#Machine Learning Street Talk

[knowgoopplz]

the cofounder of cohere is also the lead singer for good kid

what the fuck

[phantomrose96]

The conversation around AI is going to get away from us quickly because people lack the language to distinguish types of AI--and it's not their fault. Companies love to slap "AI" on anything they believe can pass for something "intelligent" a computer program is doing. And this muddies the waters when people want to talk about AI when the exact same word covers a wide umbrella and they themselves don't know how to qualify the distinctions within.

I'm a software engineer and not a data scientist, so I'm not exactly at the level of domain expert. But I work with data scientists, and I have at least rudimentary college-level knowledge of machine learning and linear algebra from my CS degree. So I want to give some quick guidance.

What is AI? And what is not AI?

So what's the difference between just a computer program, and an "AI" program? Computers can do a lot of smart things, and companies love the idea of calling anything that seems smart enough "AI", but industry-wise the question of "how smart" a program is has nothing to do with whether it is AI.

A regular, non-AI computer program is procedural, and rigidly defined. I could "program" traffic light behavior that essentially goes { if(light === green) { go(); } else { stop();} }. I've told it in simple and rigid terms what condition to check, and how to behave based on that check. (A better program would have a lot more to check for, like signs and road conditions and pedestrians in the street, and those things will still need to be spelled out.)

An AI traffic light behavior is generated by machine-learning, which simplistically is a huge cranking machine of linear algebra which you feed training data into and it "learns" from. By "learning" I mean it's developing a complex and opaque model of parameters to fit the training data (but not over-fit). In this case the training data probably includes thousands of videos of car behavior at traffic intersections. Through parameter tweaking and model adjustment, data scientists will turn this crank over and over adjusting it to create something which, in very opaque terms, has developed a model that will guess the right behavioral output for any future scenario.

A well-trained model would be fed a green light and know to go, and a red light and know to stop, and 'green but there's a kid in the road' and know to stop. A very very well-trained model can probably do this better than my program above, because it has the capacity to be more adaptive than my rigidly-defined thing if the rigidly-defined program is missing some considerations. But if the AI model makes a wrong choice, it is significantly harder to trace down why exactly it did that.

Because again, the reason it's making this decision may be very opaque. It's like engineering a very specific plinko machine which gets tweaked to be very good at taking a road input and giving the right output. But like if that plinko machine contained millions of pegs and none of them necessarily correlated to anything to do with the road. There's possibly no "if green, go, else stop" to look for. (Maybe there is, for traffic light specifically as that is intentionally very simplistic. But a model trained to recognize written numbers for example likely contains no parameters at all that you could map to ideas a human has like "look for a rigid line in the number". The parameters may be all, to humans, meaningless.)

So, that's basics. Here are some categories of things which get called AI:

"AI" which is just genuinely not AI

There's plenty of software that follows a normal, procedural program defined rigidly, with no linear algebra model training, that companies would love to brand as "AI" because it sounds cool.

Something like motion detection/tracking might be sold as artificially intelligent. But under the covers that can be done as simply as "if some range of pixels changes color by a certain amount, flag as motion"

2. AI which IS genuinely AI, but is not the kind of AI everyone is talking about right now

"AI", by which I mean machine learning using linear algebra, is very good at being fed a lot of training data, and then coming up with an ability to go and categorize real information.

The AI technology that looks at cells and determines whether they're cancer or not, that is using this technology. OCR (Optical Character Recognition) is the technology that can take an image of hand-written text and transcribe it. Again, it's using linear algebra, so yes it's AI.

Many other such examples exist, and have been around for quite a good number of years. They share the genre of technology, which is machine learning models, but these are not the Large Language Model Generative AI that is all over the media. Criticizing these would be like criticizing airplanes when you're actually mad at military drones. It's the same "makes fly in the air" technology but their impact is very different.

3. The AI we ARE talking about. "Chat-gpt" type of Generative AI which uses LLMs ("Large Language Models")

If there was one word I wish people would know in all this, it's LLM (Large Language Model). This describes the KIND of machine learning model that Chat-GPT/midjourney/stablediffusion are fueled by. They're so extremely powerfully trained on human language that they can take an input of conversational language and create a predictive output that is human coherent. (I am less certain what additional technology fuels art-creation, specifically, but considering the AI art generation has risen hand-in-hand with the advent of powerful LLM, I'm at least confident in saying it is still corely LLM).

This technology isn't exactly brand new (predictive text has been using it, but more like the mostly innocent and much less successful older sibling of some celebrity, who no one really thinks about.) But the scale and power of LLM-based AI technology is what is new with Chat-GPT.

This is the generative AI, and even better, the large language model generative AI.

(Data scientists, feel free to add on or correct anything.)

[sxorpiomooon]

What kind of person are you truly? The good and the bad - a pac reading

for the days when you feel like no one knows or truly understands who you truly are, including yourself<3

Paid readings

tip me

Pile 1-

What's up with you guys and the number four? Were some of you also attracted to the fourth pile or what? Washing machine heart comes to my mind but I said heart? These people might love talking about love and might be interested in philosophy as well. Do you guys like nail paint? This pile is very feminine, even for the ones that feel like they are not you are trust me. You guys might have a good venus placements? Perhaps libra I'm not getting much pisces but could be cancer as well. You guys are calm and compassion "hold me, console me" played in my head I said heart again instead of head. You guys might love the sea? You guys also like cinnamon girl by lana del rey. Do you enjoy juices or perhaps coffee? I heard "I can bring others happiness without sacrificing my own" and honestly please do learn that. Stop making unnecessary sacrifices that are not needed stop pulling yourself in the front of a train. You don't have to be the one in the front of the bullet every time. Oo you guys like good shoes and I think they'll suit you well. You are calm and comforting providing comfort to way more people that you know while constantly being hanged on by a thread yourself oohoo start sewing or crocheting you guys might be good heard gemini perhaps bc it's done via your hands. People also see you as an "ideal feminine woman" btw alot of girls around you might want to be like you. Do you guys like winters or mufflers hahahahhaha. You are someone who likes to hype other people ho do you like concerts? Someone passionate and determined I saw an ink pen and jo march. You have a spark in you and remember no matter how much other people might try to steal it it will remain yours no matter what.

Pile 2-

OOO this is the pile of our high achievers and ambitious people the ivy league and the pile that is on the top. You guys like to be aware of everything happening around you I keep seeing a newspaper you keep in touch with all the news and buzz around you. Very quick to notice eyes and body movements lmao. You like to be two steps ahead of everyone I see you living your life very dramatically hahah bc it adds twist. This pile has people with very very high standards and that want to and will make it very big. You guys are constantly building yourself up and levelling yourself up via your skills. Constantly learning to be at the top and never lose their position I keep hearing ceos and all that. You guys love to have titles in front of your names might have capricorn or virgo asc in their d10 or I'm seeing sun rahu conjunction or something. Wants to be at the top and will be at the top. I see these guys being winners public opinion also matters you alot in a way that you want everyone to see your success and clap for you and so they will. You guys want to be at the authority this might piss alot of you but y'all might be like your father's like him started playing. You guys might have control issues and might start acting up/tweaking when you lose it. Stop ignoring other aspects of life

Pile 3-

I thought of the word "therapist" before I pulled the cards and looking at the cards y'all need to talk to one instead of being one<3 to start with the good you guys are brilliant leaders and bring happiness whenever you go. It's like a street filled with unhappy people will be happy and bought to joy if we send you there. You have the ability to make things and people work. You have the ability to make things feel hopeful and have people wishing of the best even when they almost gave up. You are able to hype other people ho and sort of bring them hope. You are sucessful and some of you might have good family backgrounds as well privileged in some manner? Alot of respect or authority is just handed to you I heard resources? This pile has people that are OBSESSED with working not because you like it or something bc this is just something that happens to you naturally. You don't know how to never not work. You also might sometimes be obsessed with the luxurious things not because tou like it but because you want to show off or like prove it to other people? I think some of you didn't have these luxuries growing up so now when you are capable of having them you own them even when they bring you no happiness. This pile has alot of unresolved traumas and a emotional baggage. This pile might have or will have to leave alot behind to get in this position. Honestly I feel like this is not who you are currently but this is the future you. I feel like this reading is for the people who just need to hear that they will be okay and they will make all their big dreams that seem unreachable or unattainable to other people come true. I'm rooting for you my pile 3

Pile 4-

you might forget things while speaking or thinking only your mind might get foggy? This pile might be struggling with some of their issues alone I'm seeing face acne but could be any other issue that you are insecure about. You guys sort of choose to deal and suffer alone. I heard "void" and a song that translates to "please don't go like this" keeps playing in my head might be scared of getting left by people or might have the fear that they will never be known and loved for who they truly are. But how would you even know that when you will never reveal or let other people see who you truly are? in order to be loved for who you truly are you must first reveal to other people who you truly are. This pile feels ashamed to ask others for help. This pile might like lip gloss/lipstick or might look good in them. It's crazy how they deal with their problems and issues alone because all and everyone's eyes are always on them. Everyone is always looking at you and all the eyes are always on you. My pile four, you shine so bright and I think you do know this but I don't think you are able to truly grasp how much bright you shine. It's like if you are in a room full of people there is only you in front of people's eyes. And this is not something that's romantic but something that there just is. You are truly charming and enchanting. Your presence demands to be looked at and be appreciated. You make people feel hopeful and look at the bright side. You can find the light for other people even in the darkest of the streets. A true poetic by heart naturally filled with the desire to create and articulate. It's very tragic how everyone's always looking at you yet you are so lonely and alone. I heard poetic again and saw a dove? You will find your match my pile four. You will find the love and light that you give to others. Fourth of July by sufjan stevens started playing. You guys might like the piano too.

[wosospacegirl]

Head over heels - Ingrid Engen

Summary: 4 times Ingrid and Y/n almost confessed their feelings, and 1 time when they actually did.

Word count: 3.6k

This is part of my 1k commemoration blurb! <3

Masterlist

..

1. The beginning.

Y/n didn’t imagine she’d end up as Ingrid Engen’s neighbour when she first signed up to teach the U12 girls at La Masia. 

In fact, she hadn’t expected much of anything—just another job, a few classes, maybe some peace and quiet.

She definitely hadn’t expected to form a friendship with Ingrid.

Y/n knew nothing about football. She didn’t keep up with it, didn’t even know who Ingrid Engen was.

That changed the day she casually mentioned Ingrid’s name in class, and the girls let out the highest-pitched scream she had ever heard.

That’s when she learned Ingrid Engen was royalty.

Both in Barcelona and Norway.

Although, honestly, it didn’t look like it. Not when Ingrid had shown up at her doorstep with a bag of fresh cookies, introducing herself and welcoming Y/n to the building with a shy smile. 

Not when her washing machine broke and she had to use Y/n’s for a week, leaving behind her weird Norwegian detergent that smelled like pine trees.

Ingrid was nice. Kind of awkward, really pretty, and... normal.

Y/n liked that.

It was one of those nights that felt like it would never end.

The streets outside were quiet, and the soft hum of the city was the only sound drifting in through the open window of Ingrid’s apartment.

Y/n sat on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, and Ingrid was sprawled across the floor, head resting on a pillow.

They had spent hours talking about Y/n’s class, Ingrid’s training—like they always did. But tonight, something felt different.

There was something quieter between them, heavier.

Not uncomfortable, just… lingering.

Ingrid could feel it in the way her pulse sped up every time Y/n laughed a little too loudly, her entire face glowing like it didn’t even know how to hold back.

“So, how are you feeling? You’ve got a game tomorrow, right? A big one?” Y/n asked, glancing over at her with the kind of attention that made Ingrid’s stomach twist.

Ingrid shrugged, trying to stay casual.

“Hmm, yeah. It’s the last game of the league.” She paused, and her voice dropped a little. “It's kind of a big deal.”

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes still on Ingrid.

They had been friends for a few months now, but every time their gazes held like this, it felt like something was shifting. 

Like something was almost—almost on the verge of being said.

Ingrid wondered, just for a second, if Y/n felt it too, if maybe she was about to say something important.

Something real.

But the moment passed.

“You’ll have a good game, I know it,” Y/n said eventually, her voice light. “The kids keep telling me to remind you to close the end on your right, though.”

Ingrid huffed a quiet laugh, her smile soft. “Tell the girls I'll put it into the plan.”

2. The Café

It was one of their usual spots—a quiet café tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, with uneven chairs and coffee that always came a little too hot or a little too cold.

Y/n sat across from Ingrid, halfway through her drink and animatedly retelling her day, hands moving with each sentence.

“So, how are the kids?” Ingrid asked, her chin propped on her hand, watching Y/n with a soft smile.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, sipping from her mug.

“Unhinged, mostly,” she said, grinning. “But there’s this one girl...Selena she’s ten. She’s already convinced she’s going to be Spain’s next starting goalkeeper.”

Ingrid raised a brow, amused. “I’ll tell Cata she’s got competition.”

“No, listen,” Y/n said, leaning forward like she was about to reveal a secret. “She caught a paper ball someone threw at her from across the room. Without looking. Mid-lesson. Didn’t even flinch.”

Ingrid laughed, eyes lighting up. “Alright, I’m sold. Sign her up.”

Y/n smiled at that, her gaze lingering a second too long. “She reminds me of you a little.”

Ingrid tilted her head, eyebrow raised. “Because I catch rogue paper balls? I’m sorry, I know you’re not that good at football, but I’m a defender.”

Y/n snorted, ignoring Ingrid’s last statement. “Because she’s confident. And calm. And kind of annoyingly good at everything.”

There was a pause.

Not awkward, exactly—just quiet.

Ingrid looked at her for a second longer than necessary, and Y/n suddenly realised how close they were sitting. 

The café buzzed faintly around them, but the warmth between them made everything else feel muted.

“Also,” Y/n added, teasing, “she told me she thinks your hair is cool. So, you know. Icon status or whatever....”

Ingrid’s smile curled up at the corners, soft and amused. “Well, I try.”

The silence lingered again.

Ingrid opened her mouth like she might say something else, but Y/n reached for her cup too fast, nearly knocking it over.

“Okay, I definitely don’t need more caffeine,” she said with a laugh, cheeks warm.

Ingrid let the moment pass, though something flickered in her eyes. “Shame. You’re cute when you’re over-caffeinated.”

Y/n pretended not to hear it, not knowing how to deal with it,

 “So, uh, what about you?” Y/n asked, trying to change the subject, her voice just a little too sharp. “How’s the prep for the next match going?”

Ingrid noticed the shift, but instead of pushing, she smiled softly, settling back in her chair. “Busy, but good. Same old routine.” 

Ingrid paused, eyes glinting mischievously.

“I’m just hoping no one decides to challenge me for my position as ‘most intimidating defender.’”

Y/n’s chuckle was softer this time. “Guess you’re pretty safe there, huh?”

Ingrid leaned a bit closer, her smile widening. “For now. But you never know... I might need a backup.”

Y/n swallowed, a little embarrassed by how quickly her heartbeat picked up at the thought of that proximity. “I don’t think I’m cut out for being a defender. I can barely keep my coffee from spilling, remember?”

Ingrid’s laughter softened the tension, but Y/n could feel it lingering between them...something new.

3. The Goodbye

The afternoon light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow across Ingrid’s living room. 

Y/n stood by the open suitcase, folding Ingrid’s clothes as neatly as she could, trying not to look too closely at the other woman. 

Ingrid was busy rifling through a drawer, clearly searching for her shins, her expression focused and a little frantic as she threw things from one corner of her room to the other.

Y/n’s eyes lingered on the clothes she was folding, Ingrid’s shirts, her sweatpants, all items that had become so familiar to her over the past few months. 

She let out a quiet sigh.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been around when Ingrid went off to camp before, but this time... it was different.

Ingrid was leaving for Norway’s national camp, and Y/n was unsure of how to navigate it.

She had never had to deal with this before—this feeling of missing someone who wasn’t... quite hers.

“So..." Y/n started, trying to make small talk, anything to distract herself from the tightening feeling in her chest.

“How does camp work, exactly? I know you’ve told me a bit, but like, what’s the routine? Is it much different from here?”

Ingrid’s voice drifted over to Y/n as she continued to dig through her drawers. 

“It’s pretty much the same as Barcelona. Training, recovery, more training, meetings... But with Norway, everyone’s Norwegian,” she said with a little chuckle, glancing over her shoulder to catch Y/n’s eye. “Oh, and we don’t actually leave the training facility. It’s more intense, too.”

Y/n nodded slowly, but she couldn’t hide the frown that tugged at her lips. It wasn’t jealousy…no! She wasn’t jealous. Ingrid was just... going away. 

To play football. To represent her country. This was good. This was important. 

Still, a tight feeling formed in her chest as she folded one of Ingrid’s sweaters.

Ingrid caught the frown, her gaze softening as she walked over, finding her shins and tossing them on the bed.

“Hey,” she said gently. “It’s just a week. You’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Y/n muttered, clearly lying.

She didn’t want to admit that the thought of Ingrid being gone for an entire week made her stomach churn, even though she couldn’t exactly explain why. 

They were just friends, right? Neighbors.

She didn’t need Ingrid around—she was perfectly capable of being alone for a while.

But the idea of not seeing her... of not having those quiet nights, those easy conversations that stretched into hours, made her feel like something important was going to be missing.

Ingrid stopped and looked at Y/n for a long moment, noticing the way she stood there with her arms folded tightly, her eyes cast downward. 

“Y/n,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “You’re gonna be fine. It’s just a week. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.”

Y/n hesitated, but finally, she spoke. 

“They’ll miss you,” Y/n blurted out, not thinking. “The girls, I mean. They always ask about you. I always tell them about the things we talk about. “

Y/n paused, but contineudm feeling a little embarrassed, her face growing warm. “They won’t have any Ingrid content for a week.”

Ingrid blinked, and then her lips curved into a smile.

“You tell them I’ll miss them too,” she said, her voice soft but teasing. “I’m sure they’re all heartbroken without me.”

Y/n chuckled, but it felt a little hollow in her chest. She nodded, feeling her heart race for no reason at all. 

The silence settled between them, but Y/n didn’t mind. She was used to this comfortable quiet with Ingrid. 

Still, it didn’t stop the ache that continued to build inside her as Ingrid moved around the room, packing the final bits into her suitcase.

As Ingrid was finishing up, she grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, ready to go. 

“I’ll call you when I get there, okay?” Ingrid said, glancing over her shoulder. “And I’ll bring you more chocolate, obviously.” She smiled, and Y/n tried to ignore how much that smile made her chest tighten.

“Yeah, okay,” Y/n replied, smiling weakly. “Take care of yourself. Don’t get too caught up in...football stuff, alright?”

Ingrid rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I won’t get hit by too many balls.”

Y/n’s lips quirked up. “You better not.”

Ingrid winked at her as she slung her bag over her shoulder. 

“Thanks for helping me pack. And for the good luck charm, obviously.” She gave her a teasing grin. “Maybe next time we can actually work out a football tactic for you.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll stick to the cheering–and–teaching section for now.”

“Fair enough,” Ingrid said with a shrug, then hesitated for a moment before walking over and pulling Y/n into a quick hug. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered into Y/n’s ear.

Y/n froze, her heart skipping a beat.

She wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat.

Instead, she just squeezed Ingrid back, holding onto her for a little longer than maybe she should have.

“I’ll miss you too,” Y/n said, her voice quiet but sincere.

And with that, Ingrid was gone, her presence lingering in the air long after she left, and Y/n stood in the empty apartment, feeling a little less like herself than before.

..

When Ingrid came back from her trip, Y/n found herself unexpectedly waiting for her. The week had felt much longer than it was. 

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but when Ingrid finally showed up at her door, a huge smile on her face and a bag in her hand, Y/n felt something settle in her chest.

“I brought you something,” Ingrid said, holding out the bag with a small grin. “Norwegian chocolate, as promised.”

Y/n smiled, her heart lifting at the gesture. “Kremtopper,” she said, recognising the name on the packaging from the searches she did on the internet. “Thank you!”

“Welcome” Ingrid said softly, a knowing look in her eyes as she handed her the chocolate. “And I brought something for the girls, too. More chocolate...you’ll have to share.”

Y/n smiled more brightly, taking the bag from Ingrid’s hand. “I’ll share with them, don’t worry. But... only because you brought me something sweet.” She looked up at Ingrid, eyes soft. “How was the camp?”

“It was good,” Ingrid replied, but her voice held a small, almost wistful quality. “But I’m glad to be home. I missed our talks.”

Y/n’s heart swelled at that. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “me too.”

And there it was again, the familiar, comfortable silence. But this time, it felt different. It felt like something more.

4. The Stupid Misunderstanding

Y/n woke up to the soft hum of her phone alarm, groggily rubbing her eyes before pushing the blankets away.

Her first thought was of Ingrid—of course. 

They had a little routine, one that was comfortable and familiar.

Whoever woke up first in the morning went to the other’s apartment to make breakfast. 

Y/n stretched and threw on her robe, slipping her feet into her slippers. She walked down the short hallway and knocked on Ingrid’s door, as she always did.

No answer.

She waited, but the usual sound of Ingrid humming in the kitchen didn’t come.

Y/n shrugged it off, knocking once more.

But then, the door opened, and Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise.

A girl, a random girl Y/n didn’t recognise, walked briskly out of Ingrid’s apartment, right by her side. 

The girl was wearing a Barça jacket, she stepped into the elevator, and Y/n felt something in her chest that she didn’t quite understand.

She frowned. Had she missed something? The girls from the team were always in and out of Ingrid’s place, but the girl was most definitely not from the team.

Y/n stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.

Ingrid appeared at the door then, beaming as she waved the girl off. “Bye, Michelle. It was great!”

Y/n’s gaze snapped up to Ingrid. 

She was so casual about it, like there was nothing unusual in the situation. 

Ingrid didn’t even seem to notice the way Y/n’s jaw had clenched, the surprise and maybe a little hurt bubbling in her chest.

Ingrid’s smile faltered for just a moment when she noticed Y/n standing there, but it quickly returned. 

“Oh! Y/n, you’re early,” Ingrid said, her tone light, not catching the tension that was growing between them.

Y/n couldn’t hide the anger building in her.

She had to say something, but she didn’t know what.

“Michelle?” Y/n asked, her voice tight. “You didn’t tell me you had company this morning.”

Ingrid opened the door wider, clearly oblivious to Y/n’s frustration. “Yeah, she slept here because–”

Y/n swallowed, trying to keep her tone steady. “Oh, right. She slept here.”

Ingrid nodded, completely unbothered. 

“Yup... slept here. We had some coffee, I made breakfast.” She gestured toward the kitchen, oblivious to the growing distance between them. “Come on in, I made extra for you and me. Still some left if you want.”

Y/n’s hands tightened into fists, frustration bubbling over.

Without thinking, she turned on her heel and walked back down the hall, slamming her door shut with more force than she intended.

Ingrid hurried after her, her voice softening with concern. “Y/n?”

But Y/n didn’t stop.

She heard Ingrid knocking softly on her door, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow and letting the tears come—tears of anger, confusion, and the hurt she didn’t know how to voice.

Minutes passed before Y/n finally pulled herself together. 

She couldn’t let her emotions control her, especially not when she had to teach twenty girls math that morning.

She quickly got dressed, throwing on a sweater and jeans, and left for La Masia, trying to push everything out of her mind.

She was halfway through her class when her phone buzzed. It was Ingrid. But Y/n ignored it.

By the time the school day ended, she was exhausted and emotionally drained. She was just walking down the hallway to her apartment when she saw it—a bouquet of flowers sitting on her doorstep.

Y/n knelt down to read the small note attached:

“Michelle’s Patri’s sibling. She asked me to give her a place to stay while her apartment is being renovated. PS: I’m pretty sure she’s straight.”

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening in embarrassment as the realisation hit her: she had completely overreacted. 

She had let her insecurities get the best of her, jumping to conclusions about Ingrid’s friendship with Michelle.

Before she could process it any further, Ingrid’s voice came from behind her. 

“Y/n?” Ingrid’s soft voice held a note of uncertainty. “I made carrot cake... if you want some.”

Y/n’s face flushed with guilt. She turned around slowly, meeting Ingrid’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I--I was being dumb. I jumped to conclusions.”

Ingrid gave her a soft smile, shaking her head. “It’s okay. Honestly, I would’ve reacted the same way if it were you.” 

She reached forward, holding out the plate with the freshly baked cake. “Friends?”

Y/n smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah. Friends.”

They stood in the hallway for a moment, neither of them saying anything. 

Y/n’s heart was still racing, but it was a different feeling now—a mix of relief and the quiet warmth of understanding between them.

Ingrid stepped into the apartment, and Y/n followed her inside.

The door clicked shut behind them as they sat down at the small kitchen table, cutting the carrot cake and laughing at the simplicity of the moment. 

No more misunderstandings. Just the two of them, the cake, and the quiet realisation that everything was okay.

5. The Confession 

Barcelona had just clinched the league title, and the team threw a private celebration at one of the club’s event spaces—no press, no fans, just players, staff, and a few invited friends. 

Y/n arrived in a simple silk dress, heart pounding from more than just the excitement of victory of the team.

She spotted Ingrid near the dance floor, laughing as she clinked glasses with Aitana and Alexia.

When Ingrid’s eyes met hers, she waved Y/n over with that dazzling, lopsided grin that sent butterflies crashing through Y/n’s chest.

Across the room, Alexia whooped, and Aitana held up a plate of patatas bravas.

A few of the players winked at Y/n’s direction as they passed. 

But Y/n’s eyes never left Ingrid’s, who beckoned her over with a grin that made Y/n feel all warm inside.

The DJ slid into the next song—a R&B track with a slow, pulsing beat. Ingrid extended her hand wordlessly. 

Y/n slipped her fingers into Ingrid’s, and they drifted to the small dance floor.

Beneath the gentle glow of overhead bulbs, tables of empty plates and glasses fell... It felt like it was just the two of them, two bodies swaying in perfect sync.

Ingrid’s hand settled at the small of Y/n’s back; Y/n’s other hand came to rest lightly on Ingrid’s hip. 

The thrum of the music echoed in Y/n’s chest, but the only rhythm she heard was her own heartbeat, speeding up as Ingrid leaned in. 

Warmth brushed Y/n’s ear as Ingrid spoke, her voice low, the tiniest tremor betraying nerves. “I have been waiting all night for this moment.”

Y/n’s breath caught. The air between them felt charged, as if the entire loft had hushed.

She met Ingrid’s gaze, searching the hazel depths for confirmation.

Then Ingrid asked—softly, tentatively—“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Time stretched. Y/n’s mouth felt suddenly dry. 

The thumping of her pulse was louder than the bass. She nodded, her voice caught in her throat.

“Yes,” she managed, and her words flared in her ears. “Please.”

Ingrid’s lips found hers in a soft, searching kiss. 

First gentle—an exploration—then confident, as if they’d been practising for months. 

Glasses clinked in the background, but Y/n heard nothing but the rush of Ingrid’s breath and the warmth of her hands cradling Y/n’s face.

When they broke apart, Ingrid’s forehead rested against Y/n’s. Her voice was husky.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since you moved in nexxt door.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned. 

She tucked a hand behind Ingrid’s neck, tracing the line of Ingrid’s jaw with her thumb.

“I’m glad you did. I’ve been head over heels for you, for what, seven months?”

Ingrid’s brow rose. “Seven months?”

Y/n laughed, the sound soft and breathy.

“Since the day you introduced yourself with those freshly baked cookies. But don’t let it go to your head.”.

Ingrid grinned, brushing a loose curl behind Y/n’s ear.,

“Too late.” She dipped her head and captured Y/n’s lips once more, more boldly this time, sealing their first real confession beneath the glow of victory lights and the away‑game hum of celebration.

..

a/n: if you read this far-- first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought!

i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff, @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy, @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness

[slut4hee]

Love Trial

{Paring: Summer Fling Sunghoon x Blk Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, strangers to lovers?? summer fling, ambw themes, 18+ so (mdni).

{Summary: In which, the summer vacation trip, to Seoul, South Korea finally makes it out of the group chat. What was supposed to be just a girls trip, a getaway from your stressful work lives, you find yourself in a summer fling with a local you met in Hongdae. Would this be a start of a new love story? Or would you leave half of your heart, in Seoul, South Korea?

{Warnings: explicit scenes, protected sex (gasp), fingering, oral (m&f receiving), missionary (hoon’s an eye contact type of guy), squirting for the first time, accent kink, dirty talk in broken English and Korean, language barrier (Jake has to translate for hoon), bold letters is when they’re speaking in Korean, I don’t speak Korean so translations may not be accurate, just a lot of filth and some fluff okay ?

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You and your friends squealed in excitement, as you all stared at your booking confirmation. The trip, had finally made it out of the group chat, you guys were so thrilled. You all had corporate jobs, and very exhausted from piles of paperwork, and constant meetings.

“Holy fuck! Guys we finally did it.” Jada shouted, jumping up and down. You and Naomi joined her, both group hugging, all so giddy. You could already feel the stress leaving your body, just knowing vacation was around the corner.

“So fucking glad, i won’t have to hear my bosses bullshit, for a whole three months. Naomi said, falling back onto Jada’s queen size bed, you giggled before joining her, grabbing your phone and scrolling through your socials.

“Maybe, I’ll meet me a fine Korean daddy, and get wifed up and move to South Korea”Jada chuckled, following back onto the bed as well, and joining you both.

“Guys remember, this trip is all about having fun, nothing too serious” You said, you were always the mother of the group, even though, Naomi was older you always played the responsible role.

“Oh come on Y/n, you gotta learn how to live a little” Naomi said, nudging you in your side playfully. You rolled your eyes at her, of course you wanted to have fun, just safely. You were always pretty anxious, and an overthinker. But Jada and Naomi, were total opposites, more free spirited.

“Don’t tell me, Brent has anything to do with what you were saying” Jada said, raising her eyebrow at you suspiciously. You got quiet, avoiding making eye contact with her. Jada sat up real quickly, as well as Naomi.

“Y/n.. we’ve been through this already, that trash cheated on you with Jennifer, it���s about time you get off him. Naomi said, her tone holding a sense of encouragement. Perhaps your friends were right, it has been almost 4 months, since you and your cheater of an ex boyfriend broke up.

“Nobody’s saying it had to be serious, but possibly let a handsome guy buy you a drink, and maybe get railed.” Jada giggled mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows. You put your hand over your mouth laughing, you loved your crazy friends.

//

When you stepped off the plane, you immediately breathed in the Seoul air, it was beautiful day, the sun was beaming down on your face, and the wind blowing a nice breeze. It felt so good, knowing you didn’t have to worry about, getting calls all afternoon, and going back and forth to the copy machine. No, it was strictly about having fun, and letting loose.

“Eeee! I can’t believe we’re finally here ladies” Jada said, bringing you all in for a group hug. You all cheered and expressed your excitement, before getting your luggage. You all were able to haul a taxi, and speak to the driver in the very poor broken Korean, the best you all could.

When you guys arrive at the Airbnb, the view was breathtaking, it overlooked the streets of downtown Seoul, restaurants, and shopping centers near by the area.

“Wow! It looks exactly how I viewed it online, I thought we were going to get scammed.” Naomi said, chuckling in disbelief, before dropping her luggage, and running around exploring the unit. You giggled, before pulling her luggage with yours, placing it into one of the rooms.

“Girls, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved.” Jada said, holding onto her stomach, and pouting like a baby. You didn’t realize how hungry you were as well, before your stomach growled on cue, you all burst into laughter.

“How about, we try that one bbq spot, we found on TikTok?” You suggested, Naomi, and Jada quickly agreed, as you all ran to take showers and get dressed to go out.

When you guys arrived at the restaurant, the vibes were great, and the people were friendly. Luckily most of the staff spoke English, so you guys were able to dine with ease. You guys ate until you guys were full, and then went to the convenience store for dessert afterwards.

Finally the nighttime came, and it was time to go clubbing. You couldn’t believe, you were about to experience the infamous Hongdae, a place you’ve only seen on TikTok and YouTube videos. You decided to go with something simple yet still attractive, a lace red corset top, with a black mini skirt, that if you bent over you would definitely flash someone.

“Wow we look hot as fuck!” Jada yelled, doing her little dancey dance in the mirror. You, and Naomi giggled at her, before joining in. It was time to, fucking party like wild animals!

//

Music from the clubs fills the lively atmosphere, and lots of people laugh and mingle with one another. Guys hitting on girls left to right, and many locals standing off to corner smoking a cigarette. You felt nervous, being that you haven’t enjoyed the nightlife in a while, and on top of that, you were in a totally different country.

As a black woman, you didn’t know what to expect, you did get a lot of stares, some of admiration, and some of curiosity and confusion. But you were here to have a good time, not get in your head, and let your insecurities show. Finally you guys made in to the club you were partying at, and immediately ordered drinks.

“Wow our bartender is fucking hot!” Jada said, eying the tatted gentleman, and biting her lip, as she fluttered her eyelids flirtatiously. You giggled before taking another sip from drink. After many shots, you finally start to feel the buzz, the adrenaline pumping through your body.

“Come on girls, let’s go dance!” Naomi said, dragging you and Jada to the dance floor. the Dj was playing WAP, by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. You slowly started to sway your hips to the music, your body moving like liquid to beat of the vulgar song. You dropped it low, made it bounce, all of the above.

Sunghoon’s Pov:

You caught Sunghoon’s eye immediately, when he spotted you by the bar. He did a double take, when he took in your appearance, he has never met a woman, as gorgeous as you are.

His eyes trailed down your frame slowly, your waist slim, your thighs thick enough to take a bite out of, and your aura was all but too addicting. He swallowed hard, watching you throw back your drink like nobody else’s business, he always had a thing for girls like you, beautiful brown skin, and bodies of a goddess.

When he saw you and your friends hit the dance floor, he immediately held his breath. The way you moved your body with all confidence, and seductively, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. You were making him sweat, making his pants feel like he got a size way too small.

“Holy shit, look at those chicks over there” Heeseung said, nudging Jake in his side. Jake turned around, scanning the room before finally his eyes landed on you and your friends.

“Fuck they’re hot, now those girls really know how to have some fun” Jake said, smirking as he took another sip from his drink, hissing at the sting of the liquor. Sunghoon stayed quiet, just observing and watching you dance.

And then that’s when it happened, your eyes met his, and he felt his heart skip a beat, his breath hitching. You smirked at him, biting down on your bottom lip, as continued to dance sexually.

“Holy shit Hoon, the one in the red corset, is totally checking you out right now” Jay said, smirking, as he winked, at a pretty girl passing by them. Sunghoon could feel his face heating up from Jay’s words, were you really noticing him? Were you really interested in him?

“I’m pretty sure she’s looking at all of us” Sunghoon said, awkwardly, taking another sip of his drink. Jake chuckled, he could tell Sunghoon wasn’t used to bold girls like you, plus Sunghoon wasn’t really a club person.

“We should invite them to our section” Heeseung said, turning to look at his friends for approval. Sunghoon almost spit out his drink, Invite you over?! Sunghoon was a nervous wreck already, and you weren’t even near him. Plus, his English speaking skills, were not the greatest.

“L-Like right now? What if they think we’re creeps” Sunghoon stuttered, he never felt this nervous, and intimidated in his twenty-two years of existence. His friends just laughed, nudging him in the side, and telling him to lighten up. But he could he keep calm, when the most beautiful woman, he’s ever seen was three feet away from him.

Back to Y/n’s Pov;

When you locked eyes with him, you immediately knew you had to have him, he was handsome, tall, and a mysterious aura to him. It was the way he watched you, studied you, as if you were the only girl in the room. You wanted him,and you wanted him to want you too, you prayed he would come and approach you.

You saw one of the guys he was with, walking in you and your Friends direction. He was also very handsome, his eyes resembling a golden retriever, and his hair was silky and fluffy. But your eyes were on the prize, who that in the back?!

“How you doing tonight pretty ladies, hope I’m not intruding too much, but me and my friends were wondering if you wanna come chill in our section? The gentleman said, a confident smirk on his face. His cologne was strong, but not to the point where it was unbearable. Jada had agreed, before you and Naomi could even give your opinion.

You and your girls followed the handsome guy, whose name you now know as Jake, to him and his Friends private section. Your eyes were on Mr tall, and mysterious the whole time. You took a seat right next to him, you could see him tense up, and you giggled at his reaction. He was such a cutie.

“Welcome beautiful ladies, I’m Jongseong, but I go by Jay” Jay introduced him, offering to shake hands. You all shook his hand back, but he gave Naomi a special kiss on her knuckles, clearly showing off his interest in her. Heeseung did the same, his eyes on Jada the whole time, eye fucking her, like no tomorrow.

“Not too much of a talker are you? You said, looking at over Sunghoon. He looked at you, his eyes wide, as he swallowed his spit nervously. He looked over at Jake for help, he didn’t understand what you meant at all.

“Am I not interesting enough for you huh?” You fake pouted, holding your chest, as if you were injured. Sunghoon frowned at you, looking at you with an intense gaze, he was trying so hard to understand you, but he was failing badly. Finally Jake noticed the tension, and cut the rope with a knife.

“Oh, this is my friend Sunghoon, he’s not very good at speaking English.” Jake said, Sunghoon understood that sentence, nodding his head at you awkwardly. You nodded your head, awkwardly biting down on your lip.

“You like drink?” Sunghoon suddenly said, staring at you nervously, his palms sweaty.

“Huh?” You replied, frowning in confusion. Sunghoon bit his lip, mentally cursing himself out in his head, now he wished, he paid attention in English classes as a teenager.

“Jake!, tell her I would like to buy her a drink” Sunghoon said to Jake, Jake quickly translated what Sunghoon had said, with his very attractive Aussie accent. You smiled at Sunghoon, telling him yes of course you can buy me a drink.

You watched, as he headed to the bar, he looked so sexy with his leather jacket on, a white tank top under it. He looked back to see you already staring at him, and he shyly looked away, smirking to himself. He came back a drink in his hand, a fruity looking drink.

You took the drink from him, and thanked him, as you took a small sip from it. The drink was sweet with a sour aftertaste, honestly pretty good.

“You like it?” He said, his accent thick, as he smiled softly at you, waiting for your answer. You smiled back at him, nodding your head and taking another sip from the drink. Suddenly the song by streets by Doja Cat came on, you immediately wanted to get up and dance to it.

“Would you like to dance with me Sunghoon” You asked him, gesturing towards the dance floor. He frowned at first, and then went “Ahh” when he understood what you said and replied with a nervous “Yes”. You giggled at his cuteness, before reaching your hand out, for him to take. He took your hand, and let you lead him to the dance floor.

“Just follow my lead baby” You said, looking into his eyes, before turning around, placing your backside on his front. Sunghoon damn near, had a heart attack, when you started rolling and grinding your body on his crotch. He was too stunned to speak, his hands laying awkwardly by his sides.

“Don’t be shy baby, put your hands on my hips” You giggled, grabbing his hands, and placing it on your hips. Finally he started to loosen up a bit, his body moving with yours. You both were basically dry humping in front of everyone, you bit down hard on your bottom lip, to conceal the moans that threatened to come out, every time his bulge made contact with your ass.

“Oh god, jeongmal michyeoss-eo.” He mumbled breathlessly, his grip on your hips tightening. You looked back at him, moving your hair to the side, as you now moved your ass in circles, shamelessly teasing his now hard on.

“M-Maybe we home tonight?” He said breathless, his breathing ragged, and sweat drips down his forehead and nape.

“What’s that baby?” You didn’t quite understand him, turning around to face him, as you looked into his dark eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Me and you, my home” He said in broken English, his hands now resting on your ass. You felt yourself soaking your panties, his accent was so cute and sexy, you wanted to swallow him whole. You weren’t going to miss out on the opportunity to spend the night with Sunghoon, honestly this was not something you would usually do, but your friends did tell you to live a little right?

“Ohh baby, you wanna take me home to your bed” You said seductively, running your long acrylics, down his toned chest. Sunghoon didn’t quite understand, but he heard the words baby, bed and reading your body language so he assumed you were agreeing.

“Yes baby, jebal.” He said, with urgency in his voice, he’s never wanted someone as bad as he wants you. You made him feel hot, you made him feel risky, he wanted to explore every single part of you. And that’s how you found yourself, stumbling out the club with Sunghoon. His arm gripping your waist tightly as if you would escape, and you kissed on his neck and face, giggling giddy in the process.

Of course people were giving you looks, some girls looked at you with jealousy and envy, and some guys looked at you, as if they were wishing they were the ones taking you home. Sunghoon quickly hauled a taxi over, you couldn’t keep your hands off him, caressing his chest, kissing on his neck, tracing the moles on his pale skin.

Sunghoon basically had to drag you to the cab, he almost thought you were going to, jump his bones in the public eye. You were acting like a complete slut, and you had no shame, you hadn’t been with someone, since you and Brent broke up plus Sunghoon made your body feel things.

You both were now in the cab, your lips attacking his, as you moaned and he groaned into the kiss. You couldn’t wait to get these clothes off him, you knew he was fit just by looking at his physique, snd feeling his defined muscles through his tank.

“Neoga neomu pil-yohae!”

//

You both had barely made into his apartment, before his lips, were back to attacking yours. He managed to shut the door, with the back of his foot, his lips never leaving yours as he gripped your waist tighter. Your body slammed against the wall, the makeout session very heated, as you both moaned desperately into each other’s mouths.

“Sunghoon, fuck baby I need you” You said with a whine, the ache between your legs was starting to become overwhelming, you needed to feel him, you needed him to feel you. He nodded his head frantically, you guessed he understood you, as he suddenly picked you up off your feet, and bring you to his bedroom. His bedroom was spacious, and very clean, and had a minimalist aesthetic to it.

He threw you on the bed, your body hitting the soft mattress and pillows, he stood there a moment, just admiring you, and mumbling the words “Maeu yeppeuda.” Before climbing on top, and starting to leave wet kisses on your neck, and collarbone. You whimpered, at the feeling of his tongue caressing your brown skin, and the feeling of his weight on top of you.

“Is this okay?” He asked, tugging at your corset top, you assumed, he wanted you to take it off. You quickly nodded, turning over, so he could untie the strings. He wasted no time, yanking the strings apart roughly, as tearing the fabric. He flipped you back around like you weighed nothing, groaning at the sight of your bare tits.

“Ah, ssibal yeppeune Janiya!” He grunted, now groping your tits, and pinching your sensitive nipples. You moaned loudly, at feeling of his big hands on your chest, and the thrill of not being able to understand what he was saying to you. It was just something, about the way the foreign words rolled off of his tongue, his accent being the most sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck Sunghoon! Please baby, I need you so bad, i need more” You screamed out, hoping he understands your words and urgency. He studied your body language once again, and the words baby, and more.

“More?, is what you want Jagiya?” He said, hoping he understood you correctly.

“Yes, yess! Please give me more” You begged shamelessly, tugging at his shirt. Sunghoon got the message, throwing off his jacket, and freeing himself of his tank top. You damn near melted, at the sight of Sunghoon’s toned, yet slender body on full display for your eyes only.

“Taking off” He said, tugging your skirt down with urgency, leaving you with only your thong on. You waited, anticipating his next move. He looked you deep in your eyes, with his dark lust filled ones, as he came in contact with your clothed pussy. A very noticeable wet spot, was stained on the middle of your cotton gusset, and he groaned at the sight before rubbing little circles on your pussy through your underwear.

“F-Fuck Hoon, oh god, please give me more, I need it so bad. You cried out, looking at him with pleading eyes, your hand finding his, as you squeezed it hoping he understood. He smirked at you, before coming face level with your pussy, and licking a stripe of it through your panties. Your body jolted forward, your hands going to grab at his hair as he starts to lick at the fabric more aggressively.

“Shit! O-Oh my god, that feels so good, Nghh you’re so nasty” You moaned, your legs already pathetically shaking, and he didn’t even come in contact with your bare cunt yet. Finally, he decided it was time to stop teasing, he pulled your thong to the side, exposing your bare pussy to the cool air and his hungry eyes.

“Wow! Neomu jeoj-eoiss-eo.” He said, swiping through your wet folds with his long slender fingers, before spitting directly on your pussy, and licking another stripe of your pussy this time actually tasting it. Your body jerked forward again, your back arching, off the bed, as he starts to suck and lick on your pussy like he’s starving.

“FUCK! Damn baby, you’re so good at this, how does my pussy taste Hoonie?” You whimpered, your legs threatened to close around his head, but Sunghoon kept forcing them open.

“So sweet jagi, maeu dalkomhada!” He groaned, now sucking on your puffy clit, you could feel yourself already getting closer to the end, your stomach tightening and your legs starting to shake violently.

“Oh Sunghoon, oh god you gonna make me fucking cum” You screamed out loud, your hands gripping onto his hair tightly, causing him to wince at the slight pain. Like clockwork, you shot off like a rocket, creaming hard all over his face. he kept sucking on your pussy, helping you ride out your high until you pushed his head away due to overstimulation.

“Wow! I think that’s the hardest, I ever came from head baby, you’re a sex beast. Sunghoon groaned, now unbuckling his belt, and getting himself out of his jeans. He was now only in his white Calvin Klein boxers, a very noticeable wet patch visible by his crotch area.

“My turn baby” He said, tugging down his boxers, his hard cock sprang free, hitting his abdomen, precum already spilling from the slit. Your mouth was watering at the sight, you grabbed his length in your hands, before pumping his cock up and down slowly. His body jolted, grunted deeply under his breath, your hands felt so good around him.

“Such a, big pretty cock darling” You said, looking up at him, as you continued to jerk his cock off. Sunghoon felt himself about to burst too fast, so quickly stopped your hand. His breathing ragged and ruined. He reached over to his nightstand, pulling out the foil packet, tearing it open with his tooth. He slid the condom over his dick, letting out a shaky hiss from the feeling of the condom.

“Naneun deul-eogaya hae, I need to in baby” He said, voice rushed, husky and rough. You moaned at that, grabbing ahold of your legs, and spreading them wide for him. He cursed under his breath, before lining himself up with your entrance, and slowly starting to breach your tight insides.

“Oh shit! F-fuck, you’re so fucking big!” You screamed, your hands gripping onto the sheets tightly, the stretch was like no other, it felt you were being split right open. Sunghoon was holding his breath, until finally he pulled halfway back out, to slam himself right back in to the hilt.

“Ah ssibal!” He yelled, his movements halted, as he let you and himself adjust to the new feeling, of his nested deep inside you. Your mouth was left agape, a silent scream as you should say, you never felt so full in your life. No other man, has never made you feel this stuffed before, you could feel Sunghoon’s cock touching your cervix.

“Sunghoon please! Please fucking move, oh you feel so good” You cried, desperately pulling at his waist for him to start moving. Sunghoon took a deep breath, before slowly starting to rock his hips back and forth. You immediately grabbed ahold of him, pulling his body down on yours, as you lose yourself in the feeling of him stirring inside you.

“Oh shit! Maeu kkwag, Ah ssibal.” Sunghoon moaned loudly, spurring out words in Korean, that you had no idea what it meant. But for some reason that made your more wetter, your wet pussy gripping his cock like a vice.

“Goddamn baby! I can feel you in my fucking stomach.” You whimpered, his pace now starting to pick up, the bed creaking loudly, the headboard banging against the wall.

“I’m here, my dick deep” He said breathless, pushing down on your stomach, where you could feel him deep inside your guts. You moaned loudly at that, feeling yourself teetering to the edge, for the 2nd time tonight.

“Sunghoon! You gonna make me cream your cock, fuck so damn good.” You cried out, your long nails clawing at his back, once he hits a particular spot, deep inside you.

“Cum for me, yeppeun galsaeg.” He groaned, his hand reaching between your legs, and rubbing fast circles on your puffy clit. You let out a broken sob, as you felt the band snap, your vision going white, as you came hard around Sunghoon’s dick. You didn’t realize you squirted, until you pushed Sunghoon’s dick out of you, your legs shaking like crazy.

“Wow! Very hot, jagi” Sunghoon moaned, mesmerized, by sight of your messy abused cunny. You pushed him off of you, and his body hit the mattress. You snatched off the condom, holding his still painful hard erection, starting to on the sensitive tip.

“Oh shit! o ye ppal-ajuseyo!” He whined, his hips bucking up, you held his legs down, as you started to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your mouth.

“Ah ssibal! gibun-i johda!” He yelled, his hands gripping the sheets aggressively, his stomach clenching, and cock twitching. You moaned around his dick, the the vibration, sending a shock of pleasure through his body.

“Naega ganda, naega sege ganda!” He let out a pathetic cry, his toes curling, as you brought him closer to his peak. All it took, was for you to stuff his dick down your throat, and he let out a guttural moan, shooting thick ropes of milky cum down your throat. You let go of his dick with a loud pop, opening your mouth, showing him his cum on your tongue before swallowing it and showing him it’s gone.

“Ssibal michinnom.” He chuckled breathlessly, his facial fucked out, and satisfied. You were the same, your pupils blown out, your hair was a mess from all the pulling, and tossing and turning. You were so satisfied and tired. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist, as he rest his head on yours.

“Salanghaeyo” He whispered.

//

You and Sunghoon, ended up spending the whole entire summer together, learning more and more about each other everyday, him taking you cute dates and showing you around the city, and lots and lots of sex. Unfortunately, you and Sunghoon never put a title, on whatever you guys have going on. He never asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend.

Tomorrow was the last day of your trip, and you were already feeling depressed, you had feel in love with the city of Seoul, you had fell in love with Sunghoon. But you knew sooner or later reality would hit, you would have to go back to your boring, and stressful life as a corporate worker.

You hadn’t heard from Sunghoon all morning, and it was now evening time. Honestly your feelings were hurt, you knew sooner or later you both had to go your separate ways, but you didn’t think it would be that easy for him to ghost you after everything. You continued packing up your things, checking around the room and bathroom, to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything.

Suddenly your phone ringed, startling you, and you quickly dropped your hair brush in your bag, and grabbed your phone. You saw that it was Sunghoon calling you, and your heart dropped, and skipped a beat at the same time.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice was shaky, and nervous, you didn’t know what to expect.

“Annyeong jagiya, you doing packing” He inquired, you giggled at the broken English at the end, before replying to him.

“Yes Hoonie, I’m all done, why what’s up?” You said, he took a minute to respond, obviously trying to understand what you were saying, but he just went ahead, and said his next sentence.

“I’m outside, your hotel!” He said, you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach, and you quickly threw on your slippers and robe, and you ran to meet Sunghoon outside. When you made it outside, you saw Sunghoon standing there, with a banquet of roses in his hands, and something else behind his back.

“Hey darling.” He said, smiling, as he walked up to you, and handed you the banquet of roses. You smiled happily, as you brought him in for a tight hug, thanking him for the beautiful red roses.

“I have something else Jagiya.” He said, pulling something out of his pocket. Your breath hitched, when you saw it was a necklace box, looking up at him wide eyed.

“What’s this Hoonie?” You said, your voice shaky, as you feel yourself about to cry. He smiled, before kissing your forehead softly.

He opened the box, and presented the shiny sliver Tiffany necklace to you, as he said the words you never thought he would say.

“Y/n, would you be my girlfriend?” He asked, his eyes full of love.

”Yes! Of course I’ll be girlfriend Sunghoon!” You yelled, tears streaming down your face, as you both, pulled each other in for a hug and a kiss.

“I wanna spend that rest of my life with you”

“I will never, leave your side Park Sunghoon”

And a new love story begins…

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝖽．

𝖠/n: Omg Omg Omg?! 😵‍💫I enjoyed writing this so much eeeeee they’re so cute!🥹I hope you guys enjoy this fic, and reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated.

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Taglist: @i03jae @ataver @kolawnk @ancnymcnzjy @gildedsilk

[postersofleon]

Virgin Who Can't Drive

Leon is trying to teach you how to drive so you'll visit him in Raccoon City.

content: fluff and smut

- request

notes: afab fem!reader; fluffy couple who love each other; talking about porn; praise kink coming from both leon and reader; it's a short long. I wanted to write a fluffy sex scene because re2 leon is so lovely. um, i don't like the ending. y'know, it's like written perfectly in your mind and the next day it's just an ass writing of it. both reader and leon are virgins. it took forever because i hate myself so here you go

part two (here)

taglist: @argreion

Leon smiled brightly at you as he saw your cheeks puff up. "C'mon, reverse isn't that bad." He hoped his words be enough to make you feel better, but you looked so frustrated. "I, I panic controlling this machine." Once he heard those words come from your mouth, he sighed softly.

A typical nice day with his girlfriend who hated the idea of driving. "Once these cities are walkable, I'm going to finally hate less my life." You reverse the car gently, you focused on the car and on Leon. Leon nodded his head slowly, "Yeah, good, good..." Your cheeks began to burn a bit from his words.

"Sweetie, focus." Leon said kindly.

You wanted to desperately mock him, judge him for his cute words, but what else can you do this exact second.

"Okay." You said almost immediately. You kept your hands on the wheel as you slowly turned the wheel. Once you completely turned the car, you turned to see Leon with a happy smile, "Yeah, see, I told you you can do it." Leon kissed your cheek, and it was so easy to know that he did this to praise your little heart.

"Ready to drive?" Leon asked.

You nodded your head weakly as you began to drive. Your foot on the gas and the other foot just stayed floating above the brake. You weren't a complete idiot at the idea of driving, you knew how to make turns and stuff, but the fear of the other drivers made your stomach turn. If you weren't a reckless driver, another idiot will and, fuck. You glanced at Leon, "Leon, can we just skip the driving and," You leaned a bit close to the wheel, "I hate driving."

You were twenty years old practicing how to drive with your boyfriend. No matter how positive you tried to see the story, you felt like a loser.

Leon placed the car in park, "Honey," He gently cupped your face, "Take a deep breath in." He whispered softly. You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath in. His fingers gently squeezed your cheeks to help your nerves that kept spiking up. He leaned gently and kissed your lips, "I'm here to help." Leon muttered softly. Your teeth chewed on your lower lip, "Okay."

You drove around the streets; it wasn't hard because Leon made sure to keep another extra eye as they went around. "I can't park, Lee." You mumbled softly. Leon rubbed your thigh gently, "Yes, you can, baby." He kept his hand on your thigh as you twirled the wheel into position. "That's it... good." He nodded his head slowly. You blushed at every single word he said, your cheeks burned up.

"Be careful with the other car. Nice and easy." He nodded his head slowly until you finished. You parked the car and looked at Leon, "I hate driving." You mumbled softly. Leon caressed your cheeks, "I know, but when I go to Raccoon City, I need my princess to learn how to drive so she can visit me." You looked away; it felt so unfair that Leon accepted a job so far away. Leon. You looked at the wheel of the car, "So, how many days are you betting on me to get better?"

"A couple of weeks." He promised.

And Leon was leaving in a couple of months. You needed to get rid of your stupid fear.

-

Leon was finishing his small studies of law he took in community college. It wasn't required, and probably it was wasting time and money, but he didn't mind waiting around the campus for you. Leon hated to think about leaving you alone. He wanted to take you to Raccoon City, but you needed to finish your classes. Leon didn't want you to stop everything you are doing for him. However, he feels anxious of leaving you without actually losing his virginity with you.

Both virgins who were too scared to look at real life penis or a vagina.

He had seen those trashy porn movies in his home trying to prepare, but he knew things about you. He knew you wouldn't be super sexual and he was aware that maybe his boner won't appear like he planned.

Planning sex was hard work. Especially when everyone apparently lost it in high school. It was his fault for wanting to watch Plup Fiction and Casablanca with you. He was horny, but never enough to force you to do something he knew you would be uncomfortable with.

The closest thing Leon has done was sit between your thighs as he played video games on his Sega. Your legs on his shoulders, his hands every once in a while rubbing your legs. Okay, maybe he was a moron for not having sex yet. He saw you leave your class and he stood up straight. "Honey, I was planning we can watch The Wedding Singer." He stammered out like a wheezing toy. Your eyes narrowed, "Didn't we see that already?"

"Yes," He agreed, "But, who said we can't enjoy it again."

You exhale through your mouth, "Mm, okay, I guess." Your fingers scratched your cheek, "So, The Wedding Singer and we are done for the day?"

Leon laughed softly, "Not really." He knew his face looked dumb, "I was thinking that maybe we should buy condoms."

"No fucking way." You gasped softly. Leon nodded his head excitedly, "Yup, I, I want to do it with you unt-until I go to leave. I don't want an awkward sex moment with you and fail at it." He laughed softly to himself before looking back at you. "I don't want that to be last memory of me."

You looked away from Leon and let out a laugh, "So," You held gently his arm, "I'll rewatch and see The Wedding Singer and remember that's when we had sex." Leon nodded his head, "Yeah, it'll be fun, I guess."

-

You couldn't watch the movie properly now. You kept looking at Leon as Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore fell in love. You felt yourself smile with the thought of a romantic moment with Leon. You have known for so long. You knew all his little quirks and... You are learning how to drive thanks to him. You gently pushed his hair back, you saw his moles scattered around his neck and your heart clenched.

Lee. Leon. Your love.

Leon turned to see you.

Your eyes looked down at his lips, "I love you." You whispered softly. Leon smiled weakly, "I love you more."

When the movie ended, he held your hand tightly and pulled you so close that your hips crashed with his. "So, what's the first step of sex?" You teased Leon. You had your ideas of just grinding on him until he popped a boner, but it was just your needy self. You didn't mind how long it lasted to love Leon until he was hard.

Leon laughed softly, he didn't have an exact answer, but he got into his knees and pulled out a dozen roses. You wanted to pretend you weren't digging his romantic gesture. "Lee, stop it." You groaned weakly. "Nope," He has the cutest awkward smile in the world, "I have to express my love over and over."

You accepted the flowers in a shy manner. "I hate you." You mumbled softly.

Leon and you went to car and he drove you back to your rent home you shared with roommates. "A-are we really doing this?" You asked Leon weakly. Leon nodded his head, "I brought my cassettes for the occasion." You were scared for Leon's type of music for the moment. "What's in the cassette?" You grabbed a vase to put the flowers in.

"Honestly," He clenched the cassette, "A bit of everything I thought would be romantic." Meaning, you knew Lovesong by the Cure will be there. You held Leon's hand and led him to your room, Leon felt nervous already and it pained him.

You sat on the corner of the bed. Leon nodded his head, he needed to assure himself as he prepared the cassette. Leon turned to you and smiled, "Forgive me if I fail to satisfy you." He muttered softly. He got into his knees and placed himself the only place he knew where to start. You didn't know what to do and neither did Leon. He rubbed your thigh and his hands landed on your hip.

The music of the cassette began and it was a Queen song. A small piano began and you recognized it without an issue. Leon blushed at his song choices, "I, I know I'm not good with songs." His hand grabbed your hip tightly, "A song named Jealousy shouldn't be a tape where I want to love you, but I... I can't imagine a life without you."

Your eyes looked up at the tape player and back at Leon. "Lee, I don't know how to... start." You mumbled shyly. Leon nodded his head and stood up, "I don't either," He smiled, "They don't teach this in pornos." He leaned close to you, his legs slowly tangling with yours. Neither of you were sexual aroused. But it was nice. Leon's hand caressed your face and his thumb rubbed your lip.

Your hands slowly grabbed his hip. Leon closed his eyes for a second, he leaned back and took off his white shirt off.

You knew he was in good shape. You always saw him train and see how scrawny his body was until now. He had barely formed abs and soft pecs. You usually saw this body when you two went to lake to enjoy the fresh water in a summer day. He was beautiful. More of his mole decorated his skin, he even had one so close by his nipple. His head tilted a little, his cheeks were pink, and they won't seem to fade away.

The music was completely in the background noise now. Leon closed his eyes for a second, "Okay, okay..."He swallowed weakly. Your hands stayed a while on his hip until they slowly slid down into your stomach. "Your turn." He whispered softly. His hands gently traced your stomach; his fingertips were barely even touched you skin and a small whimper escaped from his lips.

You tilted your head away. It was simple touches, yet those small butterflies formed around your stomach and between your thighs. The grip on Leon's hands tightened on your hip, and they slowly went up and up and gently pulled off your shirt. Leon smiled weakly at his new view. Your breasts looked so soft. He leaned close, his breath was against your neck, "I love you."

Your kisses met his neck and shoulders. "I love you too." You mumbled back. Leon smiled, "I like this." His hands rubbed your hips, skin on skin action wasn't as normal for you two. His hands slowly went up and took off your bra. His pecs and your breasts rubbed against each other, your nipples perked up. Leon's hand gently held your breast and placed his mouth on it. He sucked on your nipples, tugged them gently between his teeth.

The music completely disappeared now. A tiny moan escaped your lips when he pulled away from your breast and went to the other nipple.

Leon had always loved your tits. Seeing them covered with a shirt was enough for Leon, but now he was between your tits.

Leon felt how his limp dick was getting swollen up. Tighten around his jeans, aching around and becoming... it was hard to explain. This wasn't like masturbation. He had you. You felt how his bulge pressed against your covered pussy. Leon could already imagine how... fuck... your tight walls clenching around his poor aching cock. Leon's tongue traveled up until it met your neck, licking up all those details of your skin.

His own blue eyes met yours, his hand caressed your face again and pulled you close. "I, I love you." He couldn't help but repeatedly tell you those words. He meant it.

But with his dick tightening his jeans and him loving you. The next step came. You and Leon temporarily separated from each other remove your jeans. Leon was embarrassed of his tighty white underwear. He kicked them off your bed and he looked at your thighs slowly showing. Leon blushed again. You turned around and faced him. "Sorry if my vagina looks ugly." Your hands cupped your already covered pussy, but once you said those words Leon said, "I don't care." He just hoped you won't be scared of his worm.

Leon looked up at the ceiling, "So, I'll whip it out, okay?"

You nodded your head.

Leon swallowed nervously, his hands played with the elastic band and tugged them off. Your eyes couldn't stop looking at Leon's penis, "It's pretty." You whispered. His cock twitched at the compliment, "I trimmed it." Leon muttered softly. His hands played with the pubes he had, "I'm decent size." He was proud of five inches, but you didn't care of his size. You saw how his cock looked thick and heavy, and your eyes widen at how big his balls were.

"Holy shit." You mumbled softly. Your eyes saw his again, "I'm guessing that's you man spread so much."

Leon blushed again, his hand held his cock and you noticed the pre cum sticking around. You liked how Leon's cock looked. Most of the other dicks you have seen with Leon for future practice were kind of ugly looking. "It's okay?" Leon asked you.

You nodded your head.

Now it was your turn. You slowly took them off, Leon groaned weakly when he saw his girlfriend's pussy. His thigh clenched, "Baby..." You looked away for a second until you looked back at him. "Is it...pretty?" Leon nodded his head, but there was no thoughts in his mind. He was so curious of being of you now. Just the tip would be nice...

Learning was taking forever. But nobody mind it. You leaned back and Leon was rubbing his shaft between you pussy lips. His eyes fluttered a bit as how good this felt, your small moans made him want to fuck you so badly. His cock's tip caressed your cunt, his cock then just spilled his cum. It was spilling out and covering your pussy with his seed. He groaned weakly, "S-sorry..." He forced his half hard cock deep in you.

Losing your virginity was so... strange.

His cock made space for himself inside your pussy. You were gasping with every single push. He just kept pushing and pushing your walls open until he was fully in. His cock was still cumming, "Sorry for cumming." Leon muttered softly. He wanted to keep himself nice and hard for you. His hands grabbed your hips and kept himself close. Your wall kept clenching and drying up his cock.

He moaned softly. Leon's head tilted back as he released all his cum deep in you, "S-sorry-" He whispered softly. He looked back down, he smiled weakly at you.

Leon caressed your cheeks gently, rubbing the palm of his hand to your cheeks.

-

"Leon," You felt your heart beat so fast, the phone was pressed against your cheek, "Leon, you have been in Raccoon City for three days, and, fuck, baby, you haven't answered yet." You drove around the empty streets. Leon never just decides not to call you or ignore your calls. He isn't that type of guy. You threw your phone on the passenger's seat and kept both hands on the wheel.

But the world stopped when you mountains of military men and women boarding up the street. You stopped the car and placed it in parking. "Um, e-excuse me?" You cleared your throat, "W-What happened?" A man looked at you for a second, "You lived in Raccoon City?"

You shook your head, "No?"

Your mouth felt dried. "W-what happened?" The military man didn't answer you. "My boyfriend is a cop. He was..." Your voice stammered, "He was suppose to be here."

The military man sighed softly, "Sorry, ma'am, I can't say anything."

"His name is Leon Scott Kennedy," You said fast, "Is he okay?"

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter one

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summary: a well loved and respected bakery owned by none other than ex marine Frank Castle. A new neighbour moves in across the street

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

Word count: 1k (other chapters will be longer)

A/N: I'm so excited to share this brand-new series with you all! It’s a long one so buckle up. I'll be uploading one a week, so if anyone would like to be tagged in future updates, just let me know. Also, this idea comes from a poem I wrote a few years ago (called the baker and the ballerina) and how l've been watching The Punisher. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be a Frank fic or a Michael (the bear) fic, but Frank won so here we are lol. Feedback is always appreciated, thank you :)

The small bakery on 31st street, appropriately named Bakehouse 31, is a warm welcome for many tourists and a familiar face to a lot of the locals. The smell of fresh bread and pastries consume the surrounding area, drawing in anyone who dares to pass it. The people love to buy, and the employees love to sell. And all of this is because of the hard work and effort from one man; Frank Castle. From first impressions, no one would believe this was the man behind the quaint and cosy bakery. Whether it was his big muscles and stern expression, or his tough personality most people can't figure out how to crack, it always comes as a shock to learn he's the one who built Bakehouse 31 from the ground up. But Frank is passionate about what he does, and after leaving the Marines a few years back, he needed the unusual change. Even if there were some people who didn't fully support it.

- - -

"Here's your almond croissant and black coffee. Have a good day."

It's Monday morning and Bakehouse 31 is busy as always, packed with commuters on their way to work and the regular retired customers setting up on their chosen table for the next few hours. Frank is front and centre, handing out the baked goods and holding conversations he would rather not be having. His co-worker and friend, David, chooses not to be as productive. He leans on the counter, instead keeping busy by doing a crossword puzzle in the paper.

"What's another word for a mule?" he asks to anyone listening.

"Jackass," Frank replies, adding extra muffins to the display.

David shakes his head. "No that doesn't fit."

"I wasn't talking about the crossword."

David glares at his friend as some of the customers in ear shot chuckle.

He throws the paper down on the side, moving over to the coffee machine and finally helping with some of the orders.

"You ever think of hiring someone else?" David questions.

Frank looks back at him. "What, to replace you? All the time."

"Wow, you're jack of all trades today. Baker, comedian and asshole," David bites back. "I'm serious though. We're stumped most days, wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around here."

Frank packs a couple bagels and a baguette, handing them to the next customer and telling them to have a good day. He definitely doesn't get tired of saying that.

"We're fine, I can do most of this shit with my eyes closed," Frank responds, grabbing the coffees David made. "And when you actually pay attention, we can breeze through the day no problem."

"Yeah yeah."

The pair continues moving around each other and dealing with orders, the day passing by with no issues. By 2pm, most of the baked goods have been sold, and the only people left in the store is Frank and David, as well as a few regulars who stay until closing time.

The bell above the door rings and an old woman enters.

"Hey Flo," Frank greets her. "Usual?"

"Thanks, extra sugar in the coffee," she replies, Frank nodding already knowing the drill. "So, you boys looking forward to getting new neighbours?"

"What're you talking about?" David asks, his focus back on the crossword puzzle.

"The moving van across the street," Flo sounds surprised, assuming they were aware of what was happening opposite their bakery.

"Someone's bought the abandoned studio."

"Well if they're anything like the last people who owned it," Frank mumbles, thinking back to the drug bust and the obvious smell of marijuana seeping from the building.

David moves from behind the counter and toward the window, trying to get a good look at the people across the street.

Flo waves Frank off. "No no, I just spoke to the person who bought it. Lovely young woman, she's planning on renovating it into a dance studio."

Frank hums, not paying too much attention as he wipes down the counters, hoping to finish earlier than usual. David, however, has lost interest in any work he was doing, continuing to look out the window as the movers unpack the few items from the van. Flo walks over and stands next to him, the pair not being subtle about their nosiness.

David points, smudging the glass with his finger. "Is that her?" Flo nods. "Yeah, that's her. Oh she was absolutely delightful to talk to.”

"And not bad to look at either."

Frank shakes his head at his friend's words. "Oh great, like you need more distractions."

"Nah," David says, turning to briefly look at Frank. "You might though."

Flo giggles and Frank can't help but smile. "Not happening. I have a lot on my plate already," he moves over to David, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling him away from the window. "And so do you. I think it's your turn to wash up, right?"

David grumbles like a child, shuffling back behind the counter and pushing the door leading to the kitchen. "Fine, but l'm taking an extra half hour for break tomorrow."

He disappears into the back, leaving Frank to pack everything away in the front. Flo takes her now lukewarm coffee and cinnamon bun, bidding goodbye to Frank and exiting the bakery. He watches her go, his eyes inadvertently drifting to the moving van. The woman isn't anywhere to be seen, most likely dealing with the definite mess left behind in the abandoned lot. Frank goes back to wiping things down, forgetting about the conversation he just had, and the young woman he most likely won't be bumping into anytime soon.

- - -

Taglist: [TBD]

[cryptotheism]

It is 1485, you are a master stonemason in the city of Venice. Europe is at war. What else is new. Down the street, some weirdo named Leonardo is drawing blueprints for flying machines. You were essentially trained from birth in the art of stonecutting. The knowledge in your head keeps the crops watered, fortresses upright, and the streets clean of filth. As such, your knowledge is very, very valuable. You need to exchange knowledge with other masons but you can’t just publish all your secrets in a book, no sir. If every two-bit stonecutter learned your techniques it would put your job security in jeopardy. What you need is a nice, secluded place where you can talk shop with your peers. Maybe you could form a sort of society, one that regularly meets in secret. Somewhere all the masons like you would be free from prying eyes.  The Freemasons are a magical society in the same way that Yoko Ono was a Beatle. They should not, by definition, be here, but their influence is widespread, and to omit them would be a bat to the kneecaps of any good history of magic. The freemasons are a square peg in the round hole of magical history. Many occult historians have tried to roughly hammer them into place, only to find themselves lost in the swamps of mythical pseudohistory. 

Freemasonry! Today on patreon.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐀 𝐙𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

Jayce Talis x gn!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.6k

𝐂𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐖: very slow burn, flirting, unresolved romantic tension, open ending, Zaun and Piltover dynamics, light angst

𝐀/𝐍: Ok I know I said no more tumblr, but I had to share this…if it reaches the Arcane audience, cool. If it doesn’t…ah well at least my moots see this

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: As a Zaunite inventor, you don’t trust uninvited visitors in your sanctuary, especially from Piltover Councillors. But Jayce Talis isn’t like most people. Persistent, curious, and infuriatingly charming, he keeps showing up to your workshop, refusing to back down. And neither are you…

An earthy tang hit the back of your throat as you swept the concrete floor, each stroke of your broom sending swirls of dust in the air. The dust particles caught the setting sunlight spilling through the open doorway, casting a golden glow inside your workshop.

It wasn’t a huge space, but it was yours— clattered with shelves of spare parts, half finished projects, and various tools.

The main door stood propped open, letting in the faded sunlight and occasional cool breeze.

The wind slowly brushed past you as you continued to sweep, the sound of the wind charm that hung outside of your property tinkered in the air. Its delicate sound was a contrast to the mechanical hum that usually filled the space.

Your routine was as steady as the machines you built. Each day was just as predictable as the last. Sweep the dust, sort out spare parts, tinker with inventions that no one would use— or buy.

Most of your work came from the Chem-barons, commissions for complex weapons or gear that promised devastation in the right hands.

They didn’t visit often, but their demands could keep you busy for days. Then, when the work was done, the stillness returned.

No one came unless they needed something done, and you prefer it that way. The fewer interruptions, the fewer chances for someone to stick their nose where it didn’t belong.

And everyone seemed to respect that.

You paused mid-sweep, the broom still in your hand, as you felt a prickle run up the back of your neck.

The air in the Undercity was always thick with pollution and smoke, but now it felt heavier— like the weight of a storm waiting to break.

The usual hum of your machinery seemed muted, and even the wind chime faltered, the tinkering notes faded into the background.

You told yourself to ignore it, brush it off like it was nothing more than a stray thought. But then you heard it again— a faint shuffle, just outside.

It sounded too deliberate to be from the wind, and too hesitant to be a usual runner.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, stepping into the dim light of your workshop. It didn’t take long to figure out who it was— his attire was too clean for this side of the bridge.

He moved with purpose, pausing a few metres before your doorway like he’d stumble upon something precious.

You didn’t flinch, broom still in your hand, watching. You’d learn that speaking first was usually a mistake— it only gave the other person the upper hand.

The man looked at you, his stare caught somewhere between admiration and the detached curiosity of someone staring at an animal behind glass.

His height and physique could naturally draw attention. But even without that, his clothes did most of the talking.

The gold trim on his suit caught what little light filtered through the smog. His boots polished to a shine and echoed softly in the quiet streets— just loud enough to announce his arrival.

“You lost, Talis?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

Your property wasn’t exactly on the map, it was tucked away in the maze of the alleys. Only locals could navigate these paths.

That’s why seeing someone from Piltover standing outside your doorstep caught you off guard.

His name had the desired effect, setting alarm bells in him. His posture stiffened, his expression flickered with surprise with his eyes darting back to yours. “You…know who I am?”

You leaned your broom against the wall and crossed your arms.

“Everyone in Zaun knows the Golden Boy from Piltover.” Your tone was flat, like you were stating a fact. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested. Exit’s that way.”

“I’m not selling anything,” he said quickly, his hands coming up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. “I just came to see your work.”

“My work? Why?”

Jayce Talis— a name rang out in both Piltover and Zaun. His face was everywhere— on posters, merchandise, and in carefully curated photos plastered across every surface in the city.

You always knew the pictures were crafted to perfection. They had to be. The Man of Progress couldn’t afford a single flaw.

Still, seeing him in person was…something else. You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but the pictures didn’t exaggerate much.

His hair was slick back just enough to look effortlessly polished. His thick brows and light stubble framed his features that were far too symmetrical to your liking.

And then there was his outfit— his crisp white jacket with gold pieces tailored so perfectly it felt like a statement itself.

It wasn’t overly tight, but it clung in the right places, hinting at broad shoulders and accentuating a physique that made heads turn. Each time he shifted, the fabric pulled slightly against his muscles, as if barely keeping itself together.

Even his eyes seemed to sparkle more up close in the low light, a reflection of his boundless confidence and a sign that he didn’t belong here. Not in your space.

“I’ve heard words about you going around and I was curious.”

“So what? You’re gonna give me a gold star? Show off my work at the Piltover parties?”

“No, no. I mean—” he hesitated, the words fumbling for footing. “People say you’re brilliant, and I wanted to see for myself.”

Brilliant. Of course. You’ve heard that compliment being tossed around before, along with other sweet talks from people trying to butter you up before hitting you with some impossible demand.

But he wasn’t fumbling entirely, there was still a smooth air about him. One that came naturally to someone that’s used to speaking to a room full of people hanging onto every word.

Even so, there was something different up close. Was he trying too hard? Nervousness beneath his charm?

“You think I’m gonna perform for you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice dipping lower to a more soothing note.

You narrowed your eyes, holding back a scoff. So he thought a change in his tone would win you over? Clearly, he hadn’t met enough people like you.

But the real question still nagged at the back of your mind. How had he found you? It still baffled you. Your workshop wasn’t the kind of place you could just stumble across— it was hidden by design

So how had Jayce Talis done it? Had he bribed someone for directions? Pulled strings with someone that owed him a favour?

Or had he stubbornly worked his way through the Undercity on his own, pretending to look harmless?

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. He looked glaringly out of place. And yet, he stood there, looking like he genuinely cared about your answer.

Not that it mattered. You learned not to trust a nice tone or an earnest expression.

Before you could tell him to get lost, his eyes flickered past you. He stepped forward, just slightly, but enough for the air between you to shift.

“Is that…a chem-powered stabiliser?” Jayce asked, pointing past you.

You froze, following his gaze to the machinery perched on the workbench. He even had the cheeks to step closer and peered through the doorway to get a better look.

“I’ve never seen one so compact before. How did you—”

“Don’t touch that!” you snapped, stepping in to block out his view. “These aren’t for you to admire.”

He pulled his hand back immediately, fingered curling to his palm, but his eyes were still glued to the device.

“Is this some sort of new hobby? Charity work for the poor Zaunite researchers? You think you could waltz into the Undercity, slap a few compliments, and go back feeling good about yourself?”

You see him deflate a little, genuinely taken back by your words. For the first time, you saw his brows furrow as your words seemed to sting. “That’s not why I’m here, I just—”

“Then why are you here? I don’t need your approval, councillor.”

The title landed a sharp jab, but instead of retreating completely, Jayce straightened his posture.

“Fine, fine— I’m going.” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But your work is incredible, even if you hate me for saying it.”

His expression softened, his gaze flickered between the stabiliser and you. For a moment, he looked like a wounded animal, retreating quietly but with a trace of stubborn determination in his eyes.

“Don’t come back, Talis.” you called sharply, already turning your back to head inside.

“Can’t make any promises.” he smiled faintly, disappearing back into the shadows of the alleyway.

~

The muted hiss of the soldering iron filled the quiet. Your hands worked with precision, the glow from the tool casting flickering light across the delicate gears in front of you.

It had been almost a week since Jayce’s unsolicited visit, and you haven’t had a single visitor after that. Days like this weren’t unusual— visitors were rare, and you were accustomed to that.

Despite the chaos of the Undercity, it always felt distant here, muted by the walls and your deliberate isolation. Your workshop was designed to block out the clamour of the outside world.

The only sounds were the occasional clink of metal and the crackle of circuitry.

You adjusted your position, leaning closer to your work, and ran your tongue over your slightly chapped lips as you steadied the gear. The solder melted, releasing a soft wisp of smoke that carried a sharp metallic scent.

With the rare visitors and social interactions, your tools were the only thing keeping you company. They didn’t have any demand explaining or carrying expectations. They only required patience and precision.

The silence gave you room to think— sometimes too much room. After days without a single visit, you felt the weight of it begin to press on you. It wasn’t something you dared to admit to anyone— not even yourself— but you felt the toll of it.

The lack of noise sharpened your senses, as if your ears were always straining to fill the void. You heard every creek of the floorboards beneath your feet, every shift of machinery in the room, every distant echo from across the streets.

Sometimes you could even hear the faint thrum of your pulse in your ear.

And that’s why you heard them before you even saw him.

Boots.

Not the mismatched kinds that the locals wore. These sounded like it came from a clean sole that didn’t stick to the streets. A confidence that you didn’t hear often.

You paused mid-solder and tilted your head slightly, listening carefully. The sound grew louder, sharper, and irritably more familiar. It was the same stride you heard a few days ago.

Placing the iron down, you turned towards the doorway. A shadow lingered in the dim light before a figure emerged.

And there he was, flesh and blood.

Again.

“Still not lost this time,” he announced.

He carried the same easy warmth, light but steady, that seemed to sweep into the room and disturb the peace you cultivated.

Except now, it was more infuriating than the last. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come back?” you asked, glancing at him briefly.

“You did,” he admitted, unfazed. “I have a habit of not listening.”

Your gaze dropped briefly to his boots, taking in the faint sheen leather material that hadn’t been scuffed by Zaun’s grime.

“You really got some nerves, Talis.”

Of course he hadn’t learned. Why were you even surprised? Of course he thought he was entitled to walk back in here, as if the first time wasn’t enough.

“What do you want, Talis?” Your voice was a blade against steel. “You don’t belong here.”

“What, and you do?” He arched his brow, as though he caught you in a contradiction. “Doesn’t seem like you get a lot of visitors.”

“I like it that way.”

Usually, your words were enough to send someone packing. Your cold indifference was a shield, and most people didn’t push past. But Jayce didn’t flinch.

Instead, his expression softened, giving you a steady gaze. There was no mockery. Just…patience.

You didn’t know what to make of that, like his warmth stonewalled your annoyance. You stared, half expecting him to make some sort of patronising comment. But he didn’t.

It dawned on you that he really wasn’t going to give this up.

You opened your mouth and closed them again, struggling to find the words before you finally hear yourself speak again.

“You might as well come in since you came all the way down here…again.”

The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up. Part of you wished you could snatch your words back, but it was too late now.

Jayce had already stepped closer, his broad shadow loomed across the threshold. His boots scraped against the uneven floor. His steps felt measured, like he was testing how far he could go without setting you off.

The workshop always felt just the right size when you were alone— a perfect balance between cramped and cozy. But now it suddenly felt stifling. The creek of the floorboard under his weight and his shuffling steps sounded amplified in the quiet. His height alone made the walls feel closer.

Even his presence had some volume.

The glow lamps casted a soft light around the room. The workshop area had a few overhead lamps with exposed bulbs that threw harsh lighting over the workbenches, drawing attention to every imperfection.

“You know,” he started, his voice carrying a light teasing to it, “most people are at least a little polite to unexpected guests.”

“You’re in Zaun. Niceties get you robbed,” you shot back.

“Good thing I’m not carrying anything worth stealing.”

“Those boots say otherwise, Councillor.”

You didn’t wait for his resort, turning to glance around your workshop. To an outsider, the area probably looked like a disaster— grease stains on the wall, loose screws and scraps of metal littered the workbenches, and half finished work lay abandoned in various states of progress.

But to you, it’s an organised chaos. Everything had its place. You could locate a specific bolt buried under a pile of blueprints in seconds.

If anyone even dared to call it a mess, it wouldn’t bother you. Their opinions didn’t matter.

However, you’d never have a Piltovern in here. Not until tonight.

You didn’t have to look at him to imagine the look of disdain he must feel. A poorly lit workshop that reeked of oil and soldered metal wasn’t part of his orderly world.

Surely the grime and chaos would send him scurrying back to his prestigious lab in Piltover.

But when you turned to face him, the look in his face stopped you short.

Jayce leaned casually against one of the shelves, carefully avoiding anything breakable. His eyes scanned the room like he’d just stumbled upon a treasure trove. The faint glow of the lamps reflected in his eyes.

It only made you stiffer. Was this real awe, or just another layer to whatever act he was putting on?

People didn’t come here to admire your work. They came with demands and offers, often laced with ulterior motives.

His sincerity didn’t fit. It was foreign and dangerous. You weren’t used to it and you weren’t sure if you wanted to be.

And you certainly didn’t trust it.

“You made this?” he asked, picking up the small contraption with surprise care. The device whirred softly in his hand. Despite the scrubby appearance, the mechanism was fine and intricate, every piece deliberately placed.

You frowned, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you always just reach for anything that fascinates you?”

“Sorry I just—” he set the device down, as if it burned his skin. “I guess I got too curious.”

His sheepish tone irritated you more. It was easier to deal with people that were openly arrogant.

He turned his attention past you to the wall-mounted shelves stacked with material. Tools hung from hooks in neat rows, their placement a product of necessity rather than decoration.

Space was limited, so you had to think vertically, every inch of the walls serving a purpose.

Jayce stepped closer, his movement slower and more mindful. His gaze was glued to the tools, taking them in as though each one was a masterpiece.

“These tools look amazing, I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“Well, I’d hope not. Because I made them.”

“You made them all yourself?”

“Most of them.”

The words came out clipped, but his reaction wasn’t what you expected. If he was fazed by your snarky attitude, he didn’t show it. Maybe he braced himself this time, expecting your hostility, or maybe he found it amusing.

“How long…how long did it take you?” he asked softly.

“Depends on how complex it is.”

“It’s incredible,” he said. “People back in the Academy spend months trying to get this kind of precision…and even they don’t come close”

For a moment you faltered, your eyes twitched at his words. His praise sounded genuine, and you knew it. And that’s what nerved you.

Compliments always came with strings attached.

You quickly deflected. “Flattery won’t work. I’m not one of your lapdogs.”

“Good, I don’t want lapdogs,” he replied, his grin disarming. “I like inventors who can outthink me.”

The casual delivery of his words struck you unexpectedly, leaving a hairline fracture in the armour you’ve built around yourself. It was a small blip in your radar. You didn’t know why you trusted him enough to stretch the conversation this far.

For now, you allowed the unfamiliar feeling to linger, watching as he wandered through your sanctuary.

Jayce’s gaze combed through the shelves and your unfinished project with childlike wonder. At this point, you truly couldn’t decide if this was an act of not.

People didn’t come in here to admire your work— they came to collect it. Usually they would mutter a few pointers about what needed tweaking, toss their payment on the nearest bench, and leave without so much of a second glance.

You were used to that rhythm— content with it.

But, now you weren’t sure.

Having someone appreciate your work felt foreign, and the way he handled your creation with care left an uncomfortable knot in your chest.

You silently cursed yourself for noticing the subtle curve of his smile when he discovered something particularly interesting.

It was only his second time here and for some reason you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. He was already threatening to throw you off balance.

~

A week hadn’t past before you heard his footsteps again, cutting through the tinkering of the wind chimes, as familiar as the beat of your own pulse.

“Is this going to be a routine now?” you asked, arching your brow inquisitively.

He stepped closer, his voice almost teasing. “As long as you allow it.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead you turned, stepping back into the workshop without looking back. You knew he’d follow; given his last visit. Though you never made it easy for him.

But despite the lack of warmth in your welcoming, the air between you was different now. No hostility, no tension. But no comfort either.

It didn’t take long for Jayce to settle into the rhythm that grated your nerves in the worst way— calm and unhurried. It wasn’t just that he was an inventor, too. It was how he saw things with such fresh eyes, as if the clutter was all just a puzzle for him to piece together.

But there was still an odd feeling that tugged at the back of your mind.

Piltover men didn’t linger; they demanded, bargained, gloated. Then left without looking back. They didn’t come back three times, and they certainly didn’t waste their time applauding your work like it came from some exhibition.

It made you bristle. Not because he was here, but because you couldn’t figure out why.

You’ve already cycled through the possibilities, and none of them made sense. If he was scouting for talent for Piltover, why not send an envoy? If he wanted to commission something from you, surely an assistant could’ve handled it. And why three separate visits, at irregular intervals?

Your thoughts spiralled tighter, refusing to pinpoint and answer that fit. Then, a thought you didn’t dare to acknowledge emerged.

It couldn’t be that, could it? The possibility— absurd, offensive, ridiculous— settled in your mind like a splinter.

Your throat tightened, a heat rising up your neck. You shouldn’t entertain it. But the only way to gain some clarity was to confront him about it.

“You’ve been sulking around my workshop for the third time now…” your voice came out sharper than intended, but you didn’t regret it.

You let him linger around in your threshold once already, and this time, you were determined to figure out what he wanted.

“Yes..” his tone was annoyingly steady. “I just wanted to see your work.”

“Please. I know men like you. You act interested, then expect me to fall into your lap.” You stepped closer, crossing your arms over your chest. The next words edged with frustration. “If that’s what you’re here for, you can save both of us the time and get lost.”

The word tasted bitter, even when you said them. You weren’t sure why you mind went to that possibility. But it felt like the only way to shatter the weird tension that you were feeling when he was around.

Jayce froze. And then his face grew flustered at your words, like you’ve just crossed a line he hadn’t even considered.

“Is that really what you think of me?” he asked softly, before his voice gained conviction. “I don’t care about…that. I wouldn’t be that selfish. I wanted to see what you’ve built because it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. I don’t have an ulterior motive, I swear.”

You wanted to snap back, to call him out on what you assumed was an elaborate excuse, but you couldn’t find the words. You felt embarrassment cross your form.

The moment of stillness filled the space, the absurdity of your accusation sinking in. A Councilman slinking into a Zaun for…something improper. You almost wanted to laugh at yourself.

He’d never once cross a boundary. His posture was careful and his steps were measured. His gaze on you was momentary, but it never strayed too far from your workbench.

“Hmph…you’re persistent I’ll give you that.” You muttered, your voice far quieter now. “Most people don’t make it past the first visit.”

The corner of his lips quirked up to a bashful smile. “So I’m not most people?”

Your lips twitched before you quickly smothered it, fixing him a look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Golden Boy.”

Despite the harshness in your tone, you felt the lingering awkwardness pressing at the edge. Your accusations made your skin prickle with self-consciousness.

You couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, not that you ever tried before. But now it felt different.

Jayce, on the other hand, redirected his attention back on your workbench. He offered a few offhanded comments, his tone deliberately casual. You could tell he was trying to smooth out the tension, though you barely registered his words.

Just a few weeks ago, you’ve done everything in your power to push him away. Sharp words, cold stares, anything to make him leave and never come back. All proven futile.

But now, you weren’t sure if you wanted to ruin…whatever it was between the two of you.

Having someone like him around brought a spark of something you hadn’t realised you missed.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes. His broad shoulders seemed almost out of place in your cramped workshop— like an elephant in a china shop. But his presence didn’t feel intrusive now.

His eyes scanned over your blueprints and half-finished projects with genuine interest. There was a strange sense of pride that washed over you, one you tried to ignore.

Knowing that someone like him valued your craftsmanship, took the time out of his day to see your work, was almost unsettling. And you didn’t want to think too hard about why.

“This joint,” his voice cut through your reverie, drawing you back to the present, “it might seize under pressure. Have you considered a pivot here?”

You blinked, following the direction of his finger on the diagram. “It works fine as it is.”

“I’m sure it does, but it could work even better.”

He wasn’t backing down. His voice wasn’t condescending or dismissive. But something else that made you tense, and you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

He continued to offer feedback and suggest adjustments, but you weren’t fully listening. His words were slipping through your focus, weaving around you. You were too distracted but his voice. The way he said things. The way his presence seemed to fill the room.

You felt your heart stutter, and you realised you hadn’t heard a word from him for the past minute. All you could focus on was how close he was, making your skin feel tight, his hands moving over the blueprint.

“You know,” you said, leaning back slightly, “you’re kind of cute when you ramble.”

“What?”

“I said you’re cute,” you repeated, shifting your weight and hoping he hadn’t noticed the flush creeping to your face. “You’re not deaf, are you?”

“I— uh— I’ve never had anybody describe me as ‘cute’ before.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“You know, I’m a councillor. You are aware of what that status means, right?”

“Being a councillor doesn’t spare you from being cute. Or are you implying that councillors are above compliments?

Jayce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, letting out a chuckle to conceal something deeper— maybe nerves, perhaps. “I guess it’s a change from the more…superficial compliments I get.”

“Superficial?”

“I get a lot of ‘handsome’ and ‘charming’ and all the usual words.“

“That’s because they’re boring.”

A small shift seemed to pass over him— maybe he hadn’t expected that response. His gaze lingered before he looked away, as if your words had an effect on him more than he let on.

You hadn’t known Jayce for long— not personally, at least. But the more you were around him, the more you realised he wasn’t as unreadable as you first thought.

You’ve seen glimpses of him, like fitting together different parts of him that made him who he was.

The defeated look he wore when you first shut him out of your workshop. The awe that lit up his face when he stepped inside and took in your projects for the first time. The stunned silence after your accusation, as if the words had thrown him off balance.

And how he was flustered— caught completely off guard. His mouth twitched into a hesitant smile, and he quickly covered it with his palm, as though trying to shield it from you.

This was your favourite expression by far.

Something about watching him internally stumble, seeing him stripped off his usual poise struck a chord in you. It wasn’t just satisfaction— but something softer. As if you weren’t the only one out of your depth for once.

After a few heartbeats, Jayce cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence like pebble tossed in water.

“Well, I should probably let you get back to it,” he said.

His usual confidence faltered as he turned to the door, muttering something along the lines of “cute” under his breath. The door opened to reveal the darkness of the night, with the flickering glows of the street lights.

You rolled your eyes and suppressed a grin as he stepped outside. “Don’t get used to the hospitality, Talis.”

He glanced back with a smirk, a mix of shyness and mischievous. “Wouldn’t dream of it…”

Then he was gone, disappeared into the night, leaving you alone again with your tools.

[ddejavvu]

Hi lovely 🫶

Do you think Aaron and BAU!wife!reader would play matchmakers for the rest of the team. No one suspects Hotch of course but he’s just as invested as reader.

"She's at it again."

Lewis's voice breaks across the silence of the BAU, and Derek glances curiously at her. He follows the woman's gaze, landing on you peering around a corner, watching Reid walk down the hallway with one of the employees that works a level below the BAU, in counter-terrorism. She's been coming around suspiciously often, and you'd been caught conspiring over the state of their relationship more than once over the past month.

"The baby has left the cradle," You hiss excitedly into your phone, "I repeat: the baby has left the cradle!"

"Nosy," Derek laughs, but his eyes linger on Spencer's retreating form for a moment too long, "Man, she and Penelope are really having their fun with this."

"I'm having my fun with what?" Comes a sweet voice from behind them, and both agents turn in their chairs to find none other than Penelope Garcia, obviously not on the phone.

Lewis glances back to you, and you're still chattering into the receiver. She hears Derek begin to question Penelope and swivels back around, now further intrigued.

"You mean to tell me she's not gossiping with you over that phone?" Derek jerks a thumb towards you, and Penelope follows the direction until she sees you.

Her lips, perfectly pink and painted, pop into a prim pout as her shoulders sag, "No! I thought I had all the best gossip in the BAU."

"I guess not," Lewis muses, staring curiously back at you as you watch Spencer hold the elevator doors open for his mystery agent, "I wonder who she's talking to."

--

"-The baby has left the cradle!"

"Where are his hands?" Aaron asks, raising a handful of cashews to his mouth, "Are they in his pockets, or is he touching her with one of them?"

"His left hand is on her back," You squeal, "And the other is just at his side! He's- oh, he used it to open the door for her, and he guided her through with the one on her back."

"Good boy," Hotch muses thoughtfully, munching happily on his snack, "He's learning. Remember when he used to make her open the door for him?"

"He is wiping his hand with a wet wipe," You observe carefully, "But not the one he's got on her. Hopefully she doesn't think he thinks she's germy."

"Are they taking the elevator?" He asks, and at your confirmation, he stands, carrying his ziploc bag of cashews to the window.

"Okay, they wouldn't spend their entire lunch break at the little vending machine lobby on the fourth floor," He decides, peering out from between his blinds onto the street below, "So that means they're probably headed to the café across the street. I've got eyes on the door."

"I'll pull up the CCTV footage," You declare gleefully, grin so wide that it's making your cheeks ache, "If you'll excuse me, handsome, I have to make a visit to Miss Penelope Garcia."

[awionetka]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞! ✩

3, 2, 1, go! love and deepspace boys become street racers (while possibly romancing you in the process)...

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: fluff (?), drabble. street racer!Xavier x undercover cop!reader. could be treated as a preview for a (possible) longer fic.

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 / 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 / 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 / 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 / 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠…

✩ face-off; jimin

✩ houdini; dua lipa

✩ journal of ardency; class actress

You weren't exactly eager to go undercover.

Such thing, however, couldn't have been said about your coworker, the very same you ended up being partnered with. Truth be told, his brand new identity practically oozed excitement – after receiving a freshly out of the dealership flaming red Mitsubishi, he was to enter the street racing scene in downtown Linkon and hopefully blend in. His budget was overwhelmingly flexible; your supervisors would have gifted him the entire solar system, if it meant breaking the illegal racing ring that had been causing them nightmares of this caliber.

And while he was getting acquainted with his brand new ride, learning all the local slang terms and memorising codenames of his future rivals, you were preparing to reduce your skill and intellect to a non-threatening, possibly also quite charming, level, one that would allow you to pose as his "girlfriend". You tried to tell yourself that all of this was for the best – dumbing yourself down just the right amount would encourage people to trust you more, invite you places, talk to you about things they shouldn't really but oh, you were just so clueless, it couldn't cause any real problems now, could it?

So, you gritted your teeth, studied the case files day and night and obediently let the rest of your team mold you into someone a little bit more digestible. While they were picking out skirts and tops, dyeing and cutting your hair, you were choosing your primary target. And because you were never one to aim low or produce anything even remotely close to mediocre, it was him you singled out.

The enigmatic racer commonly went by the pseudonym Orion. Brief and straightforward, it resembled his demeanour remarkably well. Orion was hard to spot before the races, as he was never one to boast, and even harder to detect during the competition itself, leaving his rivals far behind as soon as lap number one was completed. Your team couldn't even get a hold of a proper photo to include in his personal file; all you had at the moment was a rather blurry and faraway shot of Orion standing awkwardly next to his car of choice – which was confirmed to be an R33 GTR Nissan Skyline spray painted white, silver and royal blue. From this lighting and angle, you couldn't even be sure whether his hair was brown or blond. However, given your boundless ambition, you assured yourself you would fill up that file in no time.

The defining moment came a couple of weeks later, during your third race (well, your boyfriend's third race). It was late November and your bare shoulders were slowly but surely becoming more and more frozen solid with each passing minute. Your partner's right arm was loosely wrapped around your midriff, offering you little to no comfort when it came to fighting off the ever-present cold. So you excused yourself, retreating to the questionable sanctuary of the makeshift garages which were at least partly covered with some resemblance of a roof.

You were already rubbing your hands together like a fly, convinced you found the perfect nook to wait out the race in, but then you rounded the corner and... well.

"Are you..." The man in front of you spoke up after an elongated moment of silence, snapping you out from your state of utter confusion. "Going to say something? You're beginning to scare me a little."

Your brows furrowed, as though on command, making the stranger chuckle. He got up from his spot, arms outstretched, and yawned.

"Sorry." He scooted over a bit, uncovering a small vending machine with hot drinks that was kept hidden behind his back. "Just don't tell them I'm here. Then, you can stay for as long as you like."

You pointed at the machine wordlessly, a gesture that he must've interpreted as a polite request directed personally at him, because shortly after he fished out some loose change from his pocket and nodded at the beverage options.

"Anything you like?"

Stepping a little closer, you skimmed the list. The heat radiating off his body forced a shiver out of you. "What's this black tea like?"

He hummed. "Not too bad. A little bitter. There's no sugar in this thing though."

"I'll live."

The stranger handed you the steaming cup, acknowledging your quiet "thank you" with a warm smile. Suddenly, you felt an unfamiliar weight on top of your bare shoulders and immediately sent him a cautious glare, one he met somewhere halfway, with eyes open wide and a lopsided smile.

"It's denim, so it's not that warm," he muttered, adjusting his jacket on your body, careful not to let his touch linger for too long. "But it appears you're in a more dire need of it than me."

You were already parting your lips to offer a reply, when the garage doors slid open, letting in a gust of freezing wind.

"Yo, Orion! The race's starting in like five minutes, man! Where'd you gone off to?"

A wave of utter disbelief washed over you in an instant, leaving you stiffened mid sip, as the man in front of you, Orion, shot the other a mean glance.

"Coming!" He redirected his gaze to you, awkwardly patting your jacket clad shoulder once in some type of reassurance. "Keep it. I'll come get it after the race."

"...Thanks." Your reply failed to reach Orion, as he was already squeezing past the garage doors, looking back only once, as if to check on your confused form. And then, he was gone.

Holy fucking shit.

Xavier could feel Jeremiah's voice through the earpiece, complete with the persistent buzzing and faint vibrations. Yet, he didn't hear a single word from it, and even if he would have, it certainly wouldn't stick around in his head long enough to be properly processed.

The steering wheel beneath his fingertips was burning hot, all the friction leaving their very own imprints on Xavier's skin. He had it under control. Jeremiah should have known that by now, that way maybe he'd lay off the excessive yelling.

The first words made out from all the surrounding noise reached Xavier's ears mere seconds before the Skyline sped past the finish line.

"Cops!" he said frantically. "The cops are here, Xavier, turn back around!"

The adrenaline that took over his body so unapologetically during the race, only intensified when he hit the brakes, stopping just a couple of steps away from you.

Body still clad in a denim jacket, his denim jacket, you were leaning against one of the cars parked by the garages, a flashy Mitsubishi owned by an even flashier driver who backed out last second after locking eyes with Xavier. The very same who now stood next to you, pressed against your side like a velcro tab, right arm sneaking under the jacket to hook around your waist.

The pre-police sweep frenzy separated you and Xavier in an instant, together with this delicate, slightly peculiar link you managed to establish back in the garages before the race. As he made his way to one of his hideouts, it was as though it kept tugging him back, clouding his judgement in a way he couldn't quite understand. But he urged himself to leave it alone, leave you alone, together with your bare shoulders and a man with a tawdry car who wouldn't even notice when they started shaking.

It was only when he finally got out of his Nissan and the brisk air enveloped his skin, that he realised he hadn't gotten his jacket back. And even though it wasn't of that much importance to him anyway, meaning he wouldn't really mind if you kept it, something was telling him that you had a different understanding of the subject. Which resulted in a swift realisation, one that, against his own better judgement, forced Xavier's heart to skip a couple of beats here and there.

He would, inevitably, see you again.

[sungbeam]

BIRDS OF PREY — eleven

nonidol!kim hongjoong x f!reader

living in gray areas of your city, out of the way of gangs and mafia territories, could only keep you safe for so long. it was only a matter of time before you began running into problems, or rather, problems began running into you.

▷ genre, warnings. nc-17, strangers 2 lovers, slow burn, mafia au, angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of money laundering, implications of an uncomfortable workplace situation, mentions of a garter belts lmao, mentions of hired hitmen and murder

▷ word count. 4.8k

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: next chapter will be much longer, i promise lolol

CHAPTER ELEVEN: DEEPER

THERE WAS TALK. And when there was talk, there was always someone who was anxious. 

You had been working at Dionysus for a little less than a week now. Most of the work you did was standard for what you had been doing as a waitress at bars thus far; the only major difference was that this club catered specifically to higher-end clientele. It meant that your uniform consisted less of a T-shirt and dress pants, and more like a short dress and low neckline. The only reprieve from the full-glam and head of hairspray was that your managers let you get away with wearing kitten heels instead of six-inch death traps. 

It was a small mercy. But in this line of work, you would take what you could get, and your calves would thank you for it nonetheless. 

Night was fermenting into the bitterness of early morning as you made your way across the room to finally clock out of your shift. Your muscles were aching and your cheeks were close to bursting from the strained customer service smile you had plastered on all night. High performance ratings meant the owners could learn to trust you—you were just another cog in the machine, after all. And cogs didn't make choices, they only listened and obeyed and made their masters money. 

Several of your coworkers loitered around the end of the bar by the staff desktop. You imagined it wasn't because there was something wrong with it, only that there was something in the air that needed to be discussed. A week of working here and it was unsurprising that you were still amongst the outsiders on staff. Obviously, you couldn't simply state your name and earn immediate street cred or anything; respect and loyalty were earned by different means around here. 

“'Scuse me,” you murmured as you neared, weaving your way toward the monitor. 

Their chatter fell into sharp whispers, their bodies parting around you like oil meeting water. You paid their behavior no mind, used to it. 

As you punched in your employee ID and counted up your tips from tonight, you could at least strain your ears to pick something up. Hongjoong said your job here was to listen. 

“Lilac clocked out sick for the third day in a row, so I think she's on the chopping block.”

“Well, that means that there's a spot open on the VIP waiting team, isn't there?” VIP waiting team? You'd heard it mentioned vaguely, and usually in the context of a position you were far from achieving. 

A small scoffing sound erupted. “Duh. It'll be hard to get. I heard that this next meeting's gonna have people from further up the ladder.”

There was a pause, and tension pulled taut in the musty, smokey air. “Higher up the ladder? You mean…” Another pause, and you assumed the answer was in whatever silent look or gesture was given. 

You quietly finished up at the monitor and removed yourself from the immediate area. You needed to find out when this VIP meeting was, how high these higher-ups were, and how to get onto that wait staff team. If at all possible, of course. 

That nervous bundle in your stomach began to twist as you shouldered your way through the kitchen doors toward the staff break room at the back. You needed to breathe some fresh, salty sea air to clear your head, and you would also love to get your feet out of these pinching kitten heels. Maybe then you could think straight and come up with a half decent plan. 

“Dove,” a voice called out to you before you reached the break room.

You twisted your head over your shoulder, stopping short. The voice originated from the one familiar person in this place, Jungwon. As your partner in the field, he came onto the Dionysus team as a busboy and usually kept an ear out for drama in the kitchen. “What's up?” 

The name Dove was what you went by around here. They couldn't know your real name, so you assumed either Wooyoung, Seonghwa, or Hongjoong dubbed you with the faux nomenclature for your background check. It was catchy, albeit… unique. You wondered if there was some symbolism to it. Birds talked a lot. 

Jungwon slung a dish rag over his shoulder, his dark bangs damp with sweat hanging in his tired eyes. “Need a ride home?”

You nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Meet you out back?”

He shot you a thumb's up, and you continued on your way. 

The low lights in the break room were grainy and dim, but they illuminated the state of the place well. There was much to be desired, especially compared to how flashy and luxurious the main room looked. There was a dusty couch shoved up against one side of the wall, adjacent to a small table in the corner for staff members to eat at or play cards. The offices were down a hall to the right, and up a set of stairs. You imagined they were in far better shape than this environment. 

You turned left toward the rows of lockers. The exhaustion was creeping into the muscles of your face, and you opened your mouth in a yawn as you turned into your row. 

There was one other person in the aisle. She had her locker propped open and an orange pill bottle uncapped in one hand. A white capsule disappeared into her mouth, a pill you found out a couple days ago was a caffeine supplement to keep her alert on her walks home. She already had on a pair of pants over her dress. 

Sabine was one of the few employees who could relate to your outsider status amongst the others. Apparently, she had been considered somewhat of a lone wolf for awhile, but she didn't seem too upset over not being on the bandwagon with everyone else. The young woman was probably only a couple years older than yourself, with dark cherry colored hair that fell to her shoulders, and a body that looked great in the color black. She was built with sharper features and an alluring, feline-like grace. While she could rock the customer service aspect of the job when she wanted to, her real self was far more socially distanced. 

She glanced up over at you as you began thumbing your lock open. “Hey.”

You nodded back at her, yanking your locker open with a metallic screech. “Hi. How was your night?”

A deep sigh. “Same old, same old. Just wanna get my cut of the tips and hit the hay,” she muttered. She grabbed a dark colored puffer jacket and shouldered it over her uniform. 

“No, for sure,” you agreed. You pursed your lips and considered her again for a moment. “Do you need a ride again, by chance? Jungwon's driving me back to my apartment and your place is on the way.” 

You and Jungwon gave Sabine a ride home last night as well, especially after she mentioned her scares going home. While making the commute at very dark and unsafe hours wasn't new to you, Sabine didn't exactly live in a grey area or exist under the protection of a mafia family. The more you thought about it, the more you were forced to acknowledge your position of power and privilege. 

Her eyes raised again. “I… would appreciate that,” she said. She nodded, almost to herself, and began zipping up her jacket. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” 

You dug around in your locker to toss on your own winter jacket, wrapping your scarf around your neck, and applying a layer of chapstick over your dehydrated lips. 

Should you ask her about the VIP position?

The heartbeat that was supposed to be in your sternum catapulted into your throat. 

You coughed. “By the way,” you began, and her attention returned to you, “I overheard some of the others talking out there about some meeting the club's hosting between a few higher-ups.”

Sabine raised her brows. “Right,” she drawled. “Are you asking me who the higher-ups are?”

“Well, I just assumed they aren't our managers.”

“You're a smart girl, Dove,” she told you with a deadpan. “Don't play the innocent card; you know what organization owns this club.”

Ah, she wasn't exactly wrong. It seemed like she didn't know who the heads of Lioncrest might be meeting with, if it wasn't just amongst themselves, though. It wouldn't make sense that any of the employees working the regular crowd would know. The VIP wait staff didn't exactly mingle with your like; even wait staff had cliques, and you weren't a VIP bottle girl. 

You shrugged, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Just confirming,” you said. “You're not interested?”

“Not particularly.” Sabine's words were clipped despite her continuing to answer your questions. She shoved her locker door shut and clicked the lock into place. “Bad experience with that crowd. You know, you think our customers are bad? Wait until they actually have the money to shove behind their ego and entitlement.”

You held your breath, but couldn't suppress a deeply apologetic wince. It was funny how distinct of a feeling fear was; it was a curdling in your belly, something deeply upsetting. It lingered. “I'm sorry I brought it up,” you said quietly. Should you have asked someone else? Perhaps your inquiries were doing more harm than good. 

She pressed her lips together, brushing a strand of wine red hair out of her face. “It's—it’s fine. You didn't know. And I get the allure of VIP wait staff, I do.” She nodded to herself again, gaze hard as she stared at the floor. “Just… if you do find yourself near that crowd, be careful.”

“Thank you for the advice—and for still talking to me about it,” you replied. Your hand tightened around the strap of your purse. With the crowds you waited on, you'd learned plenty of de-escalation tactics and smooth maneuvers to avoid unwanted attention. But Sabine's warning meant this venture could come with an additional level of sacrifice. Would it be worth the risk or was it beyond the scope of what Hongjoong asked of you? 

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know Lilac's out sick, so they're looking for a replacement or whatever.”

“I just… didn't really have any opportunities to advance or be promoted at my last place of work,” you reasoned. It wasn't a complete lie; Rina Iwazaki's place didn't have a structural hierarchy as rigorous and stratified as this one. 

Sabine hummed in acknowledgment. “So you want that VIP position.”

“Hypothetically?”

A small snort flew from her mouth, and she lifted her eyes to meet yours with a pointed look. “Uh-huh. I get it though, I guess. They do tip well, at least.” She absentmindedly scratched her arm as she marinated on her thoughts. 

You leaned back against your locker to give a brief reprieve to your feet. “I dunno, any advice?”

She gave you a once-over. “My advice is to just… not. But if you're serious about this, then you need to be raking in the majority of the tips every night.” 

You nodded your head. That made sense. Upping your customer service would be a top quality for being chosen to serve a “higher” class. 

“And well… fuck, I don't know.” She shrugged, smiling to herself. “Buy a garter belt.”

Hongjoong wondered if he had gradually become an alcoholic. A glass of bourbon always managed to find its way into his hand, no matter what he was doing that evening. They also tended to magically refill themselves, but that was neither here nor there. He rubbed a hand down his face, glancing off to the side where the crystal decanter was half empty. 

Damn. Maybe he should swap out this drink with something like water. Water would be a smart choice, he thought. The inked numbers and letters on this ledger were beginning to blur. 

It was nearing three in the morning and he should have been fast asleep. His inner circle were accounted for in some capacity—most of them, anyway. He was certain he saw Jongho, San, and Wooyoung head to their rooms; Yeosang was undoubtedly with Ruby at the greenhouse, as he had been for a handful of days lately; Seonghwa was likely at the headquarters office; and Yunho and Mingi… were somewhere. 

Ugh. They could take care of themselves, but something needled at the back of his brain. 

He was missing someone from his roster. You were also unaccounted for, but that was… normal. In a way. 

He cocked his head to the side in consideration, eyes narrowing at the opposite wall. Yes, you were supposed to have limited contact with him during this period when you were trying to get settled into the Dionysus club. He guessed you were on your way home, or already home. And you were smart enough to catch a ride with Jungwon, but was Jungwon smart enough to offer a ride if you didn't ask—

That was a rabbit hole of inquiries his bourbon-soaked thoughts hadn't the bandwidth for. 

Hongjoong shook himself awake and set the glass aside, bourbon still sitting at the bottom. He needed to stay on task. After his, Yunho, and San's venture into the skeleton of the old Strictland base, they brought back with them a box full of ledgers and property documents to try and decode Jung Joonseo's secret ledger. Thus far, he and his commanders had only been able to pick out the entries where Joonseo was siphoning money to his own private account. The numbers that repeated matched the account number they had found on another document. 

It was a massive puzzle game, but one didn't know each piece even existed without purposefully looking. 

At least one thing was for certain: Yunseok knew his coffers were dwindling. The Kidult property was sold to the DDC around the time Joonseo had already scraped away nearly 200,000 dollars. If Hongjoong wasn't convinced all of these events were somehow linked to his current issues, then he would have laughed in Lee Yunseok's very dead face. 

A chime rang out from his phone. 

He sighed, reaching over to peer at the notification. His brows furrowed when he saw that the security feeds outside this home was alerted. He watched the feed, the automatic visual recognition system matching the faces in the car's front windshield. 

Surprise flickered across his face, then his heart beat hurtled into a gallop. You were here. Why were you here? What was wrong? 

He bounded for the stairs to open the warehouse door. 

You stood on the other side with the briny breeze blowing in your hair. You lifted a hand to wave at Jungwon once the door was open. 

Hongjoong tried not to focus on the fact that your legs were nearly completely bare, and more on the fact that you were quivering like a leaf in the wind. “Good god,” he muttered, “get in here. It's fucking freezing.”

“You're telling me,” you managed to say through chattering teeth as you scurried past him. 

The heavy smell of booze drifted into his nose, and it woke him right up, as if he wasn't already on high alert by a myriad of other concerns. Not including the part where you were dressed in less than he had ever seen you before. You were going to catch a cold; did you not bring pants to put on after work? Hongjoong hauled the door closed, locking it tight, his teeth clenching through the annoying pricks of pain in his side. 

Soon, that infuriating bullet graze would be just a scar and a memory. 

“Why are you here?” he asked as the two of you climbed the stairs up to the living room. What's wrong? 

You didn't say anything until you collapsed into the armchair you always occupied. With a grimace, you tugged your feet out of your kitten heels to massage your soles. “It's nothing bad, don't worry.”

Hongjoong dragged a hand down his face as he perched on the coffee table in front of you. “Are you serious?”

“It could be bad. But I have a solution.”

“I need more context than that.” And maybe he did need that last bit of bourbon. He physically turned his face away from you to avoid his eyes wandering. 

An eight hour shift and you still looked like a doll. 

You tucked your feet under your body, tugging the ends of your coat over your bare legs. “I just… need your opinion. And maybe a donation.”

“A donation?” he parroted, curiosity piqued. 

“I'll explain it once I'm done,” you assured him. Your eyes drifted over to the mess behind him, the table littered with paper, the box, the ledger books. “What happened here? Hurricane Red Tape?”

Hongjoong hated that he snorted. There would be no more drinking of bourbon for tonight. “No,” he said, glancing back at it all, “just a new lead we're pursuing.”

“Speaking of leads,” you continued, “I overheard some coworkers tonight talking about Dionysus hosting a meeting with some higher-ups. Supposedly, officers from Lioncrest are meeting with others.”

Your emphasis on “others” was pointed. Hongjoong absentmindedly massaged his jaw. If he was picking up what you were putting down, this could be the thing that he was waiting for—confirmation that Lioncrest was negotiating with Strictland to betray Ateez. He trusted what you overheard before tonight, as well, but he needed to know more, needed to be certain. “Others” could be anyone. 

“The catch is that they're only being served by the VIP wait staff.”

He glanced over at you and his train of thought halted. “Which you are not.”

You nodded. “So. Is it worth it?”

An interesting question. Was it worth it to send you in? He fully understood the potential stakes, risks, and outcomes; you had watched and listened, as instructed, but now there came the decision as to charge forward or pull back. If it was any other person under his employ, he would have urged you to do whatever you could to get into that meeting. 

This was important, yet half of him remained firmly in the court that disliked every detail of this. From planting you in Dionysus, to infiltrating a meeting between potential rivals—his stomach churned with the fervor of a storm at sea. But no matter how much his boat rocked, he couldn't simply dismiss this opportunity. You weren't just a liability, you were an asset. You took the vow, you were inducted, you agreed to this task. 

He needed this; the family needed this. 

(And he wondered where he'd last drawn his line in the sand. Why did he set you apart from the rest? He knew what you were capable of, just as he knew what his brothers were capable of. But this feeling needling at the back of his mind—it was different, and he could try to ignore it all he wanted. He had people to protect, a territory to rule, enemies to put down.)

He laced his fingers together as he leaned onto his forearms. “It’s worth it,” he said. “You haven't had much exposure to the higher rungs of the ladder, so this information could be crucial. How far out is the meeting?”

“I'm not too sure, but they're looking to replace someone currently on the wait staff lineup.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. That was only partially an ideal answer. “Alright, do whatever you can to get into that meeting.”

You scratched the back of your neck, teeth gleaming in a sheepish smile. “Which is why I mentioned a donation earlier.”

He paused, waiting for your answer. 

“I know you're not a typical 'business,’ but I wanted to know if you would reimburse me for business-related purchases—”

Hongjoong's face fell sharply into a deadpan. “You've got to be shitting me.”

You threw your head back in a laugh, and there was a strange warmth that filled the room. Even the glow of the lamp in the corner seemed to gleam a brighter gold. It took much restraint to pull his lip muscles into obedience. “I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask.”

“So you're asking me for money?”

“It was an innocent question,” you insisted while raising your palms in surrender. “Someone, I dunno, suggested I buy a garter belt—”

If he was drinking something, he would have spit it out. “A garter belt.”

“You like to repeat things that are said a lot.” 

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed, a crease forming between those eyes. “Excuse me?”

You tucked your knees up to your chest and crossed your ankles in a demure, little seating position. “It was just an observation,” you said. There was an impish glint in your eye tonight, and he wondered if this was what Seonghwa saw whenever Hongjoong did not listen to him. “But someone did suggest offhandedly I add a garter belt to the uniform, and maybe a different colored lip tint. It was just a joke—”

He pressed his face into his palm and used the other hand to make a dismissive gesture. “I'll foot the bill; buy whatever you want.”

“Really, I was kidding.”

“And I won't take no for an answer.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment and it was a flash of skin wrapped in a slim band of lace that was nudging him toward the edge of a cliff. With his fingers over his face, he opened his eyes to peer at you through the gaps between. “You're not gonna say no to me, are you, doll?”

Bourbon tasted like rich notes of vanilla and caramel and earth; but it felt like your smile. And it was fucking him up. 

You cleared your throat, and he thought he saw your throat muscles contract in a swallow. “I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth,” you murmured. “Anyways, uhm, I'm sorry for interrupting your work tonight. That's all I had to say.”

Hongjoong lifted his head up and raked his hand through his hair. It was getting longer these days. “No, no. It was no interruption and I didn't mind. I don't think I was getting anywhere productive with this tonight anyhow.”

You stood up then, stepping up to the table and working your way around it to peer at the documents. “What did you say these were again?”

“We brought them over from the old Strictland stronghold,” he replied over his shoulder. He turned himself around, knees turned toward you and tucked against the side of the table. He rifled through the documents mindlessly. “We found a line of connection between the Strictland leadership and the Diamond District, but when we followed that line…”

“Nothing?” You cocked a brow in surprise, but the slight frown emoted something different. You brushed your hair out of your face as you picked up the ledger book he had left on his seat. “You don't mind, do you?”

He gestured to you. “Be my guest,” he said. “That's Jung Joonseo's secret ledger. He was Lee Yunseok's second in command. Apparently, he had been stealing money from Strictland's coffers nearing the end of their reign.”

“Wow,” you muttered as you flipped through the pages with your brows creased. “Is this the reason for all the other documents? You're trying to match up the money to all of these entries.”

“That would be correct.” 

Hongjoong leaned the side of his face against his palm to watch you. The dim light from the lamp was warm against your features, casting a shadow across half of your face that outlined the curve of your Cupid's bow and the length of your eyelashes. Some of your mascara had smudged under your bottom lashes, but that was only natural and they were only specks. Did you say you needed a new lip tint shade? A deep red would look damningly divine with your skin tone. 

“Did you ever figure it out?”

His eyelids shuttered, his brain snapping into attention as if someone had just called Captain on deck. His body straightened. “Figure what out?”

You glanced up from the ledger and a lock of hair was falling over your forehead in a graceful curl. “The afternoon we did the ritual and I came back from the east corner, we were talking about putting pieces together, and you mentioned something about assassin guilds.”

“Oh.” Right. He had nearly forgotten about that part of the conversation. You had said that Strictland was toying with him, and while it struck a nerve, it also fired a neuron. If Strictland wanted him dead, then why not hire a real assassin, a privately contracted one from a guild like the Wings Express? It didn't make sense—unless Strictland didn't want the man they hired to succeed. They were counting on him being caught. It was all a game, and Hongjoong despised playing mouse. 

He brushed a hand through his hair. “I'm pretty sure it's as you said: they're just toying with me. The guy they paid was a lucky shot, but they were counting on him being caught. Why?”

“What was the name of the guild you mentioned?”

“The Wings Express?”

You glanced back down at the ledger and pointed at something. “Do you think this could be it?”

Hongjoong's face contorted as he shot to his feet and rounded the table. He peered over your shoulder as you showed him the ledger. At the tip of your finger was an abbreviation: TWE, the date matching up to five days before Ateez's coup, and the amount deducted from his coffers a whopping $100,000. 

He took the book from you and collapsed onto the edge of his armchair, a permanent kink in his brow, as he stared hard at that entry line. “I… could probably kiss you,” he blurted, still gawking at it in disbelief. 

(He was going to kick himself for saying that in about an hour when he was stone-cold sober.)

You snorted, perching onto the arm of his chair. “Yeah alright, you're welcome,” you said. “Glad it might actually be something. The letter 'T’ was just a lot bolder than all the other letters on the page, so my eyes must've been drawn to it. Maybe he was hesitant about the transaction.”

“I would be,” Hongjoong said, thumbing his lip as he considered it. The Wings Express, huh? “100,000 is probably the down payment for a job.”

“Who do you think he was trying to have taken out? You?”

He shook his head. “If he wanted me gone, he likely would have gotten one of his own to kill me. I was an inconsequential subordinate to him at the time, even five days before the coup.”

You let out a hum. “You sure proved him wrong.”

He bit the edge of his nail, and couldn't help the slight curl of his lips into a smile. “Yeah.” He was paying for it now though, by whoever was under that fake hat and mask. “But 100,000 is pretty high for a down payment of any regular person. This would have to be a hit on a very prominent member of society, or someone heavily guarded. Someone like…”

“A mafia head?” you offered. 

Hongjoong raised his head to meet your eyes, pointing at you in a vague gesture. It was like you read his mind. “Exactly.”

Your brows creased. “Interesting… I'm guessing it never happened though, because that's the last TWE entry.”

“Huh,” he muttered, flipping through the last couple of pages. The entries after this one seemed to hold the majority of the transfers from Strictland's coffers to Joonseo's. He must have felt that his time was running out and began taking as much money as he could get away with. But you were right—that was the only TWE entry there was. “He either must have backed out or his target was eliminated before the assassination was planned.”

“Here's a crazy idea,” you piped up. “What if it was Lee Yunseok?”

A line in Hongjoong's spine pulled taut. His mind wandered in the direction you pointed. What if Jung Joonseo planned to murder Lee Yunseok before he could find out about his betrayal? What if Joonseo planned to take over Strictland before Hongjoong checked the king? It made an awful lot of sense—with Yunseok dead, Joonseo was next in command. 

If Joonseo underestimated Hongjoong, then Hongjoong certainly underestimated Joonseo, too. 

“No? Stupid idea?”

“No, no” —he waved his hand to stop you— “not a stupid idea. That's a good thread to follow, Yn.”

You nodded. “It makes sense, doesn't it?”

He shared a look with you. “It does.”

But it only begged the question: what did any of this have to do with his situation now? There was that sinking feeling in his gut again, one that swirled with the rip current of dread, and it could only be quelled by answering yet another question. And this one was arguably worse. 

Where was Jung Joonseo now?

a/n: pls reblog if you enjoyed!

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[apomaro-mellow]

We're the Munsons 1/? Read on AO3

Inspired by @starshideurfics's post on blusky

Eddie's gotta take drugs across the border without rousing any suspicion. His plan? Hire some folks to play pretend family. Steve, stripper name Sprinkles, a runaway named Max, and his neighbor Dustin. The perfect family.

Eddie threw on his leather jacket, tossing his hair to free it as he did. He tightened the laces on his shoes, dumped some baggies of weed into a messenger bag and was on his way on this bright and sunny afternoon. He went out to the hall and hit the down button for the elevator. When it didn’t light up, he pressed it repeatedly.

“Come oooon, piece of shit”, he hissed and then kicked at the doors to no avail. 

The door next to it opened, revealing Dustin. He lived with his mom across from Eddie. “Elevator’s broken.”

“I can see that Dustin. You tell the super about it?”

“I did. I think he told me to fuck off but I’m still learning Russian so”, Dustin shrugged.

Eddie sighed. “Stairs it is. What a pain. Say hi to your mom for me.”

“Y-yeah, sure will!” Dustin’s voice rose up and Eddie almost had a mind to ask what was up but that wasn’t his pup, so why should he care? He took the stairs, two at a time until he got to the lobby, taking his key out to go ahead and check his mail. Before he reached the mailbox though, he passed Max, who was kicking a vending machine. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“It’s Saturday, jackass”, Max snapped.

Eddie almost was afraid of her. She appeared in the building one day. No parents or any other family to speak of and she smelled of freshly presented alpha. Eddie didn’t pay much attention to her but he was ninety-nine percent sure she was a runaway. He minded his own business and went to the mailboxes.

And who else should be there but his lovely neighbor, Sprinkles. They didn’t talk much but Eddie had heard him being called that when he left his shift at the omega strip club just down the street. Sprinkles wasn’t in ‘uniform’ right now though. He was just in a tank top and short shorts that were still technically respectable.

“I’d say take a picture, but you couldn’t afford it”, Sprinkles said, slamming his mailbox shut.

“Don’t go throwing stones, sweetheart. We live in the same glass house”, Eddie gestured to the shitty apartment building they were currently in.

“Yeah well some of us actually wanna make it outta here.”

Eddie opened up his box and took out the letters that were probably mostly bills and spam and put them in his bag. “Aww, lil stripper with a heart of gold’s got dreams~?”, he drawled.

“Fuck you. Don’t you have a corner to stand on?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Sprinkles looked very much like he wanted to throw a punch but turned on his heel instead and went towards the stairwell. Eddie smirked, allowing himself to check out the very perky ass before going on his way. He was pretty good at putting up a tough alpha front. He had to, running drugs for a living. Sprinkles was hot but he knew better than to mess around with someone like that.

Eddie whistled to himself as he went on his way. A bag to Keith who ran the convenience store. One to the guy who sat on a park bench all day. One to the senior behind the high school. He went through his rounds for the next couple of hours, stopping at a food truck for a late lunch. When the sun began to dip, he went on to his supplier’s house. Reefer Rick had been Eddie’s source for years.

He knocked on the door but heard nothing. “Rick? Dude, you in? It’s Eddie?” One thing about drug dealers, they were always prompt. So Eddie never came late when it was time to re-up. And Rick always answered on the first knock, expecting him. Eddie knocked again and realized the door was unlocked. Weird…

Not just weird, it was a red flag. Eddie was just about to turn tail when the door opened. It wasn’t Reefer Rick, in his open Hawaiian shirt and sweats. But some guy in a suit. Definitely bad news. Eddie took a step back.

“Why don’t you come with us, Eddie”, the man said.

“Uhh, how do you know my…”, Eddie looked behind the man and saw Rick’s bottom half, limp on the floor. “Ohhh okay, ummm, I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not-”

“We’re not asking”, another man from behind Eddie said.

That was how he found himself in a black van, being taken from the broken down apartments and shabby houses to a place in uptown Indy. A sleek building that Eddie never would have had the nerve to set foot in. Going up the completely functional elevator that even had a goddamn touchscreen, he felt the need to break the tension.

“Elevator music is a lost art, isn’t it?”, he quipped in the silence to his suited escorts.

No reaction whatsoever.

With a ding, Eddie was pushed out first into an office with what looked like a giant screensaver behind the desk. There was bright green foliage and monkeys hopped from tree to tree. There was even a tiger that showed itself.

“How do you like it!?”, a voice boomed, swiveling in the chair.

“Uhhhh-”

“I got that tiger last year! Isn’t she a beauty!” The man stood and walked around his desk, shooting his hand out and grabbing Eddie’s in a vigorous shake. “Yuri Ismaylov. You’ve kept me waiting Eddie Munson!”

“That’s a real tiger?”, Eddie shakily pointed to the one stalking from behind the glass.

“I like owning nice things”, Yuri shrugged in his suit that probably cost more than Eddie’s rent. He turned to sit back down in his chair and Eddie was pushed to sit across from him.

“Hey uh, I don’t know what Rick did, but I’m just the guy he’s got selling dime bags I don’t-”

“He stole from me”, Yuri said, his voice getting low. “He was warned and he took anyway and my friends”, he gestured to the muscle behind Eddie, “they took care of him. But you’re not like Rick, are you Eddie?”

“No, nope, no”, Eddie shook his head quickly. He’d say anything to make sure he got back to his dingy mattress tonight with the zero bullet wounds he currently had.

Yuri clapped his hands together. “I knew it! I knew I could put my trust in you! Did I not say that he would be a good guy?”, he pointed the question to the square faced muscle but didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Because you are good guy, Eddie, I am moving you up the food chain.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah! I lost my trust in Rick, it happens. But with him gone, there is a job left undone. I am thinking youuuuuu, you could do it for me instead.”

A job. Eddie could do a job. Especially one meant for a burn out like Rick. And jobs meant money. Eddie nodded and leaned in. “What’s the job?”

Yuri leaned in just as much. “I need you to go down to Mexico and move a teeny-tiny bit of mary-jane across the border.”

The furthest Eddie had ever taken weed was from his shitty hometown of Hawkins to some other shitty town about twenty miles away. Mexico was about that plus another two thousand miles. 

“That’s um, that’s kinda a tall order man, Y-Yuri I mean. It’s a long way, plus border control, and-”

“You do this for me, and you get $500,000”, Yuri said plainly. “You don’t? And we kill you and go to the next man on the street.”

------------------------

It was a very simple decision for Eddie. Made even more simple by the fact that Yuri had gone ahead and bought his plane ticket for him. That’d take him close to the border. He was to pick up and RV, take it to a rendezvous point where the pot would be waiting and take it all back to Yuri’s place. Easy-peasy, right?

Eddie looked himself in the mirror. His hair fell way past his shoulders in a mess that was greasy, stringy and frizzy. Even if he didn’t get clocked as a pothead, the tattered denim and leather and rings didn’t scream ‘model citizen’. He’d have to change up his look. But even if he did, he’d get stopped. What kind of weirdo traveled in an RV alone? RVs were for people following ufos or….

“Families!”, Eddie snapped his fingers, having a stroke of genius. A nuclear family of father, mother, and kids. Eddie shuddered at having to conform, even just pretending to, but if he could pull this off…

“Best to start with the hardest sell”, he said to himself, grabbing a few ones.

--------------------

Steve, stage name Sprinkles, sat in front of a vanity with a streaky mirror as he applied his makeup. His golden brown hair was under a blond wig. There was a tap on the half open door and his manager invited himself in.

“Hey Sprinkles, you got a lap dance at table four.”

“Did you check this time that he can pay?”, Steve asked, applying some eyeliner.

“He can pay. He’s got all his teeth this time too. Looks kinda greasy though so try to keep it short unless he’s got big bills.”

Steve groaned and fixed up his wig, then adjusted the corset he was wearing. He ignored the body glitter most of the other omegas favored. His name came from the many moles and freckles that dotted his body. He came out, his expression neutral but sultry as he made his way to table four.

“Hey baby, you order a dance?”

“Does wine come with that cheese?”, Eddie smirked.

Steve froze and turned on his heel, only to meet the eyes of his manager from across the room. He sighed, turned back around and leaned over to put his hand onto the back of Eddie’s chair.

“You know this ride isn’t coin-operated, right?”

Eddie brandished a fifty dollar bill and stuck it into the top of the corset. Steve rolled his eyes and sat on the very edge of Eddie’s knees.

“I’m here on business, Tinkles.”

“Sprinkles”, Steve corrected, pinching his thigh.

Eddie bit his lip to bite back the squeak and the retort. “Listen. I’ve got a job to do and could use some help with the cover.”

“I don’t do or deal drugs, Cheech.” Steve caught a look from his manager and he stood and turned, bending over in a way that was almost sluggish.

“You just need to pretend to be my wife. There’s uh something in it for you too”, Eddie slipped another bill in his thong.

Steve turned and put his foot between Eddie’s legs, gyrating robotically, knowing he was being watched. “I’m not doing crime for petty cash.”

“How’s about for $50,000?”

Steve slammed his body on top of Eddie’s lap, making him release every bit of breath in his lungs. “You think I can’t get that on my own?”

“In a dump like this? Dancing like that?”

“Please, I’m not wasting my A-material on you.”

“Trust me. I’m good for it. Fifty big ones. You just gotta get on a plane. And then an RV. It’s a couple of days and then we never have to see each other again.” Because with Eddie’s cut, he was getting the hell out of this city.

Steve smirked. “Give me a down payment and we’re in.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and handed Steve the rest of the wad he had brought along. Steve stood, smiling to himself before realizing it was just a bunch of small bills.

“Is this all ones?!”

Eddie was already heading for the door. “Use it at Old navy, buy something more motherly!”

One wife and mother acquired. Now for a kid or two. And to pray he didn’t get arrested walking home with a tent in his pants.

Part 2

[quillcraftconquer]

Simon, who never wanted a dog. He didn't mind dogs, always stopping to give them a quick pat on the side, and he didn't mind his friends' dogs coercing him to toss a ball for a couple of hours. He just never envisioned himself owning a dog. He spent too much time away from home, and god forbid if anything happened to him, who would even take his dog? 

Still, despite all of his unanswered questions, when he met the tan, leggy stray on a mission that followed him around like he already owned it, he couldn't help but feed it scraps from his dinner, let it sit too close, talk to it whenever everyone else went to bed. 

It wasn't a cute dog. Its body was nicked with tiny scars from its time spent on the streets, and Simon was well aware of the bugs running through its scruffy fur. Its legs were far too tall for its body, accompanied by a small, pointed head with ears too big that stood up when something caught its eye, or drooped comically low when he was relaxed. 

Price complained relentlessly about the “damn dog” that followed Simon to every dinner, whining and scratching at the door when they went to bed, always under their feet while he was trying to walk around the base. It wasn’t until he walked into the showers, making eye contact with Simon and Gaz knelt on the floor, the damn dog enjoying the last remnants of hot water and the empty box of flea medicine tilted against the wall that he knew it was a losing battle, the dog was going to stick around. 

Simon, who didn't want a dog, but spent more money than he had on anything else to bring it home, buy it a nice bed, and a thick leather collar. 

It wasn’t until he stood in the vet's office, watching you run the metal tag through the engraving machine with his information on it that he realized the dog was his. Simon told himself he came here because you were nice to his dog, not commenting on his unique looks or bad behaviors, and how your eyes didn't linger on the dog's scars (or his, foregoing the masks when he did stop in.)

You, of course, didn't mind Simon’s gruff exterior, the way he mumbled ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your questions, but talked extensively when it came to his dog.You laughed at the way Simon’s nose crinkled when you discussed neutering, or different training methods. You said nothing when Simon would always answer “Not my dog, just a stray.”, but always paid for the best food, treats, and care, almost as if he was convincing himself the dog wasnt going to stick around (because what did in Simon’s life?)

You especially didn't mind when Simon brought up boarding, stating he had to leave for a few weeks. You jumped at the chance, determined to show him that his dog could learn just a few house manners. You let him drop the dog off at your home, gave him access to the cameras, let him survey the yard. 

And if you had known, you wouldn't have minded the late nights Simon was halfway across the world, laying on some shitty bed with security cameras pulled up, watching the dog- his dog- take its signature 3 circles before plopping down on the outdoor couch next to you. 

It was for the dog, he told himself. It definitely didn't have to do with the too tight, too short christmas pajamas you wore in, yes, June, (he had to check the calendar, feeling like he had somehow missed 6 months of the year.) It didn't have to do with the way your fingers lazily dragged over the dog's fur, or the way you pinched the bridge of your nose when the dog tore up another cushion Simon would replace. 

Simon’s thumb punched the side of the phone, the screen darkening as he laid it against his chest, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was just about the dog.

[drunkenlionwrites]

alright curveball what typical archetype would boothill be in a high school setting and what would he be like with his partner >:) (hc format please)

Boothill HS AU headcanons:

OMG OMG nonnie, that’s such a cool ask. I honestly would’ve not thought about this concept myself, cause school was so so long ago for me, but I’ve got the vision of HS Boothill right away when I read it💖 CW: none, g/n reader

So Boothill as the archetype would be ‘the classmate who looks like a local thug but is actually the kindest soul.’

Imagine your classmate who is not really studious and can disrupt the lesson by loudly laughing and talking in class and does this 5/5 days per week. He’s loud and brush and sometimes vulgar.

Once, he kicked and cussed out the vending machine out in hallway so loudly when you passed by that it made you physically jump. Even though he’s noticed that and tried to apologize to you, calling out your name through the hall, since that time you’ve decided that you don’t like him.

You are slightly annoyed by this and never approach him, but he’s got a big presence in school, so you see and hear things about him from time to time, though you don’t know which rumors are true and which are not. Some of them sound crazy: once he beat 4 to 5 upperclassmen alone. Some say it was 10 of them. Some say he’s got something on the principal; hence he doesn’t get in trouble with anyone. Some say it’s cause he’s the principal’s kid. Or lover. Those all sound crazy and unrealistic, but who knows?

Once you see him really beating up someone behind the school building with your own eyes. You stand there and watch for a bit, thinking about reporting this to someone, but then you notice Boothill coming up to a smaller kid, sitting on the ground not far away, comforting him and picking up his bag, helping the kid to pack the contents inside. You just hear never-ending ‘thank you’s in between small sobs and Boothill’s warm laughter afterwards.

Another day, you hear him quarrelling loudly with a teacher, which sounded again completely disrespectful from his side. Later, from murmurs around school you learn that he stood up for the shyer kid when he thought that they were unjustly reprimanded.

Once you saw him in the street after school on the day when he was missing, presumably staying in sick or something. He shouted out your name from the tree, causing you to flinch again. Turns out, he spent hours trying to get one stubborn kitty to come to him, skipping classes cause of it.

It was a bit awkward when you started dating, cause being in his orbit meant that you too became more known in school and began noticing stares and hearing whispers about you.

Boothill is a total sweetheart with you, even though he can be slightly obnoxious and is not good at reading the mood from time to time. It doesn’t matter since his positive outlook and mostly always good mood is oh so infectious.

He’s also very physical, not minding the pda at school. Walking with you holding your hand, hugging from behind etc.

He doesn’t mind spending the whole day at school attempting to study, especially if you’re a diligent student. Though he is a student who’s always ready to and will bail classes and will try to talk you into skipping school with him cause it’s just too much fun stuff happening outside that seems much more important to him.

I see the dynamic as a he’s a good influence in terms for teaching his s/o to be more assertive and confident in themselves and in return being the one who needs to be stopped and calmed out a bit when he acts on a whim.

[pankowcrumbs]

It's you X Elizabeth Olsen (Fem Reader- Requested)

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

The bell above the café door jingled softly as I stepped inside, escaping the crisp autumn air. My fingers, half-numb from the chill, wrapped gratefully around the warm mug of hot chocolate I’d just been handed. The familiar scent of fresh coffee beans, pastries, and cinnamon took me back years back, in fact.

This little café, nestled on the corner of our quiet high street, hadn’t changed one bit. The same mismatched chairs, the chalkboard menu with smudged lettering, and the barista with the wild hair and tattoos still manning the espresso machine like he was creating art instead of drinks.

I smiled to myself and made my way to my favourite corner table the one next to the foggy window overlooking the street where we’d all once spent hours after school, laughing and scribbling song lyrics onto napkins. Nostalgia settled over me like a soft blanket. It had been years since I’d been back home, and even longer since I’d let myself sit in memories like this.

Just as I pulled out my phone to scroll aimlessly, a familiar voice rang out behind me. One I hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

“Y/n?”

I froze. No way. That couldn’t be... I turned slowly, and there she was.

Elizabeth. Standing right there in the doorway, wool coat wrapped tightly around her, a coffee cup in one hand, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Her eyes widened in disbelief as our gazes locked.

“Lizzie?” I breathed, standing up.

We stared at each other for a long second, both of us frozen in the moment before everything caught up and suddenly we were laughing, colliding into a hug so tight it knocked the wind out of me.

“Oh my God,” she said against my shoulder. “Is it really you?”

“I should be asking you that,” I laughed, pulling back to look at her properly. “You’re actually here? In this tiny town?”

She grinned, cheeks flushed. “I’m visiting my parents. Just for the week. I needed a break from LA.”

We stood there for a second longer, both still a bit stunned, and then she nodded towards my table.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course,” I said quickly, heart racing with happiness. “Please, sit.”

She dropped her bag onto the chair opposite mine and peeled off her coat. It felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “what are the odds, huh?”

I shook my head, still in disbelief. “If you’d told teenage me that I’d run into you here after all these years, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

She smiled softly, her gaze flickering down to her drink. “Yeah… it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Nearly six years, I think,” I murmured. “Since you moved to LA.”

Elizabeth nodded, sighing. “Feels longer and shorter at the same time. Life just… swept me up.”

“It does that.”

We both paused, the years suddenly stretching out between us like a tightrope we were about to walk. But then she reached across the table, placed her hand on mine, and said, “I’ve missed you, you know.”

My throat tightened.

“I’ve missed you too,” I whispered.

From there, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We traded stories like old records scratched at the edges but still beautiful. She told me about the chaos of film sets, the nights spent learning lines, the weird loneliness of being surrounded by people and still feeling a little adrift. I told her about staying in our hometown, working at the gallery, painting when inspiration hit, trying to figure life out one day at a time.

We talked about old teachers, ex's, sleepovers where we’d stayed up all night whispering about what our futures might look like.

“You always said you’d end up in New York,” she teased, sipping her latte.

I chuckled. “And you always said Hollywood was overrated.”

“Touché,” she grinned.

We laughed until our cheeks hurt. Somewhere between the second and third cup of coffee, she leaned back in her chair and said quietly, “I was always scared I’d come back and things wouldn’t feel the same. That we wouldn’t.”

I looked at her for a long moment. “But they do, don’t they?”

She nodded, eyes soft. “Yeah. They really do.”

The light outside had started to dim, casting a golden glow across her features. She looked older, of course we both did. But the laugh lines near her eyes, the familiar tilt of her smile… that was still my Lizzie.

We walked out of the café together, bundled up in scarves and coats, the crisp air biting at our cheeks. The street was quiet, just like always, and we wandered aimlessly, passing the bookshop where we used to sit in the window and read poetry to each other.

“Remember when you tried to convince me to audition for the school play?” she laughed.

“You would’ve made a brilliant Juliet.”

“I had the emotional range of a damp sponge at sixteen,” she smirked.

I bumped her shoulder gently. “You were brilliant even then.”

We paused at the old park, its swings creaking in the breeze.

“Everything feels smaller,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But you know… maybe we just got bigger.”

She looked at me then, eyes shining. “Can we do this again before I leave? Maybe dinner? Or God, even just a walk like this?”

I smiled, heart full. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” She looked relieved. “Because I meant it I’ve missed you. And I don’t want to go another six years without talking.”

“You won’t,” I promised.

We stood there a little longer, two girls who had once shared secrets under starlit skies, now grown and weathered by life but still tethered by something unshakeable.

Finally, she hugged me again tight, warm, familiar.

A week later, I found myself at the same café, heart thudding in anticipation. The door swung open, and there she was smiling like no time had passed.

We spent the evening in a booth tucked in the back, trading stories, dreams, and the kind of laughter that only comes when you're truly at ease. At one point, she pulled out her phone and showed me a photo from years ago us, seventeen, arms slung around each other, ridiculous hats on our heads.

"Look at us," she said, eyes glinting. "We had no idea."

"No idea where we'd end up," I agreed.

"And yet here we are. Still... us."