#< tagging bc people are comparing these incidents

[straightlightyagami]

In case anyone is not aware that the migrant boat disaster in Greece is far from an isolated incident. Thousands of people have died crossing the Mediterranean. Seeking asylum is a right recognized by the Geneva Convention. The political groups daring to assert that the act of migration is "genocide" by "diluting" the "white" population in their countries and the states that attempt to prevent refugees from entering their borders have blood on their hands.

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ JUMP TO PART TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.” 

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.” 

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.” 

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

READ PART TWO HERE

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 

-

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 

“Leonid.” He repeats. 

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 

He says it anyway. 

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 

 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 

-

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 

And again, they both laugh. 

-

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 

-

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 

-

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 

“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night. 

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 

His feet take him to her room. 

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

[waitingforsecretsouls]

Traumerei wasn't just being bitter or referring to a comparative lack of skill from said "loser" Towerborn followers when he said this. We know that administrator tests are reserved for Irregulars and that those were the only kind of tests to exist back when the Great Warriors were climbing the Tower. So the only reason they could have had "Regular" companions on their climb would have been by the GW's asking for them to be allowed to take part in the administrator tests as well. Meaning the only reason they got to climb the Tower would have been quite literally due to the GW's interceding on their behalf.

(All of these are from Tower of God #59)

Which makes the as of yet nebulous but brutal backlash they got for closing the "gate" decidedly less "Zahard and co. taking away the Towerborns freedom and choice so of course they lashed out" and more "GW's decided they were calling quits so the people they were allowing to tag along (and likely hard - carried there) threw a violent tantrum" (Not to mention the way it revealed the superficiality of their adoration, lasting only for as long as the GW's acted as they wanted them to).

To me at least, whom I can acknowledge as likely to be less charitable towards these people than someone whose favourite characters do not include Zahard and Traumerei.

However, given how clear the story has been on the whole "climbing the Tower corrupts a person" theme, I'm decidedly less enarmoured with the primary argument characters in-universe and the fandom bring forth against how sealing the 135th floor was not only the wrong choice but also somehow inherently morally abhorrent that amounts to "keeping the climb going is paramount! For...reasons!" ('Bc that used to be their goal?' Well, they clearly received some form of new information that changed their minds and was likely part of what was decried as "falsehoods" by Arlen. Fair to disagree with, but not to the point of immediate violence against former comrades. From what (admittedly very little, but clearly traumatic) we got, it doesn't seem like there was any kind of debate but rather immediate violent lashing out against the very news. Given that it's one of Thee formative incidents in the GW's (or at least Traumerei's) growing dissassociation from Towerborn and, more importantly, doubling down on their choice to keep the gate sealed, I also think it's intended that they were the sympathetic party in it, who were truly unjustly wronged). Nevermind the fact that we don't even know why the GW's decided to seal off the floor.

So while I can certainly understand and symphatize with e.g. Amizu's declaration that she deserves to know the truth about the matter, I disagree with the perspective that the GW's deprived the Towerborn of their god - given right to climb floors, when it's the very opposite. If it wasn't for the GW's, said people wouldn't ever even have gotten close to said "gate", much less learned of its existence, so when they then lash out at being "deprived" of it against the very people that got them to this point, it's not a good look. I can perhaps understand a sense of betrayal over this seemingly sudden change of course, but immediately back - stabbing them? And we know it was sudden and a seeming shock, not the escalation of previous discontent and disagreements that were communicated. "The people who worshipped us like gods while we climbed the Tower suddenly turned against us once they found out that we closed the gate."

We also basically know that these people (the ones who "bombarded [them] with curses and committed the most beastly atrocities") were the the ones who joined with Arlen and V in proto - F.U.G., going by what Amizu is saying in response :"I don't forgive them for that they did...But ultimately I belong with them because we share the same goal. That's why I first agreed to join you all" as she's leaving to join Arlen and V (Joined the Zahard faction bc she couldn't forgive them, but ultimately shares the same goal with them and now leaves to join them. Highly unlikely that these people wouldn't be part of the V and Arlene faction and just some nebulous third thing when the one thing we know about them is that they wanted the gate not closed, which just so happens to be proto - F.U.G.'s goal as well). Which feeds into the perceived plausibility of an upcoming plot - point and the way it was accepted very neatly as well.

(I also disagree with the arguments that what they climbed was only a small part of the Tower or of a multitude of further floors waiting above, since it would be very weird to me from a narrative standpoint? I think it's likely that the 135th floor is either the last one, or already the way "out" to the top. Otherwise, why the huge fuss about this floor specifically, not to mention the huge amount of story leading up (and not even anywhere close) to reaching it? The HUGE and central plotlines surrounding its key? It seems far likelier that they did truly "finish" climbing the Tower, as Traumerei said, and anything further would no longer be climbing further floors but exiting the Tower, one way or another)

[roobylavender]

someone posted this panel regarding oliver vs bruces parenting taking a jab at bruce that seems funny enough, like we can just like the post and move on but i checked the notes and apparently fans of each family are at war arguing with each other😭mostly shitting on bruce because oliver is the better parent and somebody brought up how when queen and his kids were having issues at some point that it was ooc and while i am not super well read on GA stuff i can definitely buy that, but what i dont understand is why that isnt allowed for bruce. i saw tags concerning the other horrible things bruce has done as like a gotcha to bat fans and its like why are only his comics the ones we take at face value as 100% accurate and in good faith am i wrong for finding this dumb😭

not at all i totally agree it’s dumb lol 😭 the thing that confuses me about the bruce v oliver debate is that i don’t get why there’s a need to compare when their parenting issues are at completely different ends of the spectrum. granted i do think both of them have issues with communicating but those stem from different things. every problem bruce has as a parent has to do with how he neurotic he is about being a parent to begin with. he cares too much, he worries constantly, he carries reams of guilt, etc. he’s constantly arguing within himself whether to keep the people he loves close so he can make sure they’re safe or to let them go so they can pursue their own dreams and aren’t put in harm’s way bc he asked them to stay. he’s like, a conditional-helicopter parent, in the sense that the helicopter gene only activates when people are in his city, which is why he allows them to walk away bc then it means he’s not trying to control them (except we obv know that leads to the problem where they feel like he’s pushed them away bc they think he thinks they’re not good enough)

oliver to me in comparison is someone who initially did not take parenthood seriously enough and almost treated it like he did any other relationship. unlike bruce, he was very intentional with treating roy like an equal—when i use that modifier at the beginning what i mean to say is that bruce was very cognizant of his position as a parent. dick’s safety was a higher priority than was dick’s self esteem (at least beyond the zucco incident which had a very specific goal of closure) even though bruce very much came to believe that dick was his equal, esp as an adult—and to the extent that when roy got into serious trouble with drugs oliver not only expressed this sort of condemnatory disappointment but also only expressed pride at roy having recovered from his addiction later on bc it was something he did on his own. he respected roy’s responsibility and maturity even though realistically as a parent he should have stepped in to help bc roy was still barely an adult and he had fallen prey to drugs bc oliver left him alone in the first place

those are both styles of parenting that i think you can criticize. there’s pros and cons to being too protective of your children vs not protective enough. and i think people tend only to criticize the former style and its example in bruce bc a recovery of his relationships with his children has never been the goal in the way that it is for oliver’s writers. which is a shame bc i really don’t think you or i believe bruce is as intentionally selfish as writers portray him to be. but alas 😭

[zipegs]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @cedarbranch thank you so much!!

tagging: @valentinsylve @wastrelwoods @shachaai @chaotic-plotter @thedarkmongoose

@luvbef @abstracteeveewrites @det395 no pressure though!!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

28! back in the good old days (especially when i was mostly writing oneshots) i used to be able to do one work a month but now i'm a lot slower and much more sporadic. definitely think i can break the 30 mark this year though!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

212,146!

3. what fandoms do you write for?

right now it's hannibal and the heu. i have also written for star trek aos, the terror s1, and supernatural, and will probably revisit some or all of them at some point in the future

4. top five fics by kudos

A Treatise on Touch (or Lack Thereof) (Star Trek AOS) - 883 Murphy's Law of Cohabitation (Supernatural) - 594 to the victor go the spoils (Hannibal) - 578 of all acts for which you must atone (Hannibal) - 554 kalos kagathos (Hannibal) - 522 my two crack fics coming in first! lmao. just goes to show that being silly and self-indulgent can pay off 😂 especially considering that top kudos'd fic is rated T! also was a surprise to see my terror yuletide fic coming in the number six spot, since that's a much smaller fandom compared to the others i've written for (or it was, at least. i know it's grown a bit since i started there)

5. do you respond to comments?

yes, all of them! unfortunately i'm an even slower comment responded than i am a writer but i do respond to each and every single one eventually. i appreciate people leaving the time to let me know they enjoyed my work so much and i definitely want to show that. plus i just enjoy the conversation!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

well! the book of jonah (hannibal) is definitely high up there, as are some of the oneshots in take the longing and give it a name (the terror). oh also ad finitum (the terror) and maybe elegy (the terror)? some of those (and a few i mentioned) are more bleak horror endings but the hartnell death oneshot in take the longing and give it a name and ad finitum are definitely just straight angst

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

a lot of them have happy endings, and some are just fluff oneshots! but i'm gonna say A Treatise on Touch (or Lack Thereof) for its very slight angst and eventual supremely happy ending.

8. do you get hate on fics?

i do not! i've found a nice little niche i suppose lol

9. do you write smut?

yes! i used to hate it but since joining the hannibal fandom i've started enjoying writing smut and dabbling in pwps. actually most of my recent work has been pwps dkfhdgh

10. craziest crossover?

i haven't done anything crazy i fear! my only crossovers have been heu.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i've noticed! i've had one suspicious incident of concept-ripping BUT it could have very well been a coincidence, so overall i've made out well!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

yes i have!! Stacy_likegravity translated A Treatise on Touch (or Lack Thereof) to Chinese and Jane_Ka translated i am my beloved's (and my beloved is mine) to Belarusian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have not. i used to be too much of a control freak to consider it—the thought alone was off-putting. now, though, it's something i'd love to try with a writer i'm comfortable and have a rapport with.

14. all time favorite ship?

you can't ask me that because my current ship always is my all-time favorite!!! so, yeah, gotta say hannigram.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

mmmm i have a bunch! there's an old supernatural horror fic i had about anna milton being a terrifying and off-putting child (thanks to, you know, once being an angel) that i'd love to finish and spruce up bc i felt really good about it at the time. that's five years ago now though so who knows if i'd feel like the writing held up!

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i'm pretty good at setting and description—establishing a place and/or feel/tone for a piece. i like to think i'm pretty decent at capturing speech patterns but i do find dialogue a lot harder than narration personally.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i tend to get rambly and overexplain when it's unnecessary (and sometimes gloss over what i should space out a bit)! pacing isn't always the easiest for me and i'm not great at story structure.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i don't mind it, as long as it's easily navigable! i used to be all for the hover-translations people would do but now i love linked footnotes. scrolling up and down for translations can be a little taxing for me personally.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

phantom of the opera. i tried my hand at writing a phantom/christine sex scene way back when and got about as far as "her corset 'magically' became undone". needless to say that never saw the light of day! first published fandom was a galadriel lotr oneshot i posted on ff.net (completely forgot about that until right now, actually lol)

20. favorite fic you've written?

i think i have to say the book of jonah, because i'm really proud of that one!

[artist-assassin]

ok i need to know more about ellaria STAT. and your thoughts on rosy + the rosymance !!

RRRRR OK OK but ive only played the public demo so far i havent paid for the patreon/closed demo yet, so i have very little information about the Rosymance in general. info dump and stats below

Ellaria is the humorous / cheerful kinda Button, about 5'5", and she calls her brother Nick-Nack in the game but I imagine she will call him any random number of names off the top of her head (based off of when I played Fallout 4 and I would often call Nick any random nickname like Nicki Minaj, Nickle Pickle, Nickolodeon, Nickaroni and Cheese, etc lol). She has some insecurities because she compares herself to her brother a lot, but she tries to tough it out and beat up her bad thoughts bc she's an unstoppable optimist!!! Stubborn to a fault she refuses to back down once she sets her mind to something. Is a very nice person but gets very socially awkward in large groups, and sometimes lashes out when she gets frustrated by how fragile people treat her (the first thing that made her like Instructor Kim was that he didnt beat around the bush abt her zero but didnt treat her like a kid either!! shes like damn finally some respect around here)

Loves Nick so much (i got like a 160% relationship with him in the open demo lol) looks up to him like her personal hero + mentor. Loves her dad even though it's a little bit strained, has not seen or spoken to her mother in 4 or 5 years after The Incident(tm). but she misses her mom a lot she, she's half scared of her mom hurting her and half scared she will hurt her mom.

I chose the pre-prepared name Ella when I first started playing bc I didn't know what the game was about so I wasn't prepared to like.. make an OC for it until I decided I liked it enough lol. But I compromised by just naming her Ellaria and Ella is her nickname. Here are her stats by whatever chapter is the last one in the open demo (8 i think?)

I LOVE AMBROSE KIM... i played as bisexual in my first go as Ella so i had no idea the genders for some charas changed until I checked the Ambrose Kim tag on tumblr lol. but im way more into rosy as a man than as a woman... Mr Kim u can instruct me any day,..

Like I said tho I don't know a lot about the Rosy romance because I only played the open demo, and I know the author says his romance takes the longest to flower because of the whole teacher/student aspect so he's actively trying to NOT fall for button.. well too bad bitch I'm gonna be so respectable and hot he's gonna have no choice.

anyway im gonna get the patreon this week (friday probably) so i can update u on how i feel soon jhgjhlks i also love all of the characters ngl. i would romance all of them in separate playthroughs.

and u didnt ask but ill mention Kali also, my 2nd Wiseman. shes NUTS. i made her to be the exact opposite of my first humorous, cheerful, ready-to-take-on-the-world girl Ella - so Kali is grim and not nice at all and technically still ready to take on the world but more in a "the whole world is my enemy" kind of way instead of the "i wont let anything stop me" ella way. She's VERY resentful about her zero and is one bad look from a ment away from strangling someone

sorry for the long ramble jhagdwj youre the first person who is talking to me about this game that has become my newest obsession (and u were the one who got me into it so UR responsible for this mess) and im happy to share it w someone :3c

pls feel free to tag me in any mind blind stuff u post, whether fanart or oc art or just rambles n stuff i dont care ill love it all. thank u

[bbyboybucket]

Don't you just love people who make accusations but every accusation they make, when flipped, is just a confession? Like unless I've missed something, you're not the one who's dedicated their entire blog and every post they've ever made to blindly defending a fictional character to the point of ignoring canon and straight up reinventing it, and then gone as far as to abuse other people over it just for tagging said character in a post that wasn't even negative to begin with?

I mean, honestly. Walker won't stand for criminals getting away with things even though he's a criminal who got away with multiple crimes himself, including murder? This man appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner. He hasn't apologised for what he did or shown genuine remorse. He chased down Nico and killed him in cold blood. Nico wasn't trying to kill Walker when Walker killed him, and Nico didn't kill Lemar Hoskins; he was actively trying to run away after it happened.

"If you like to see criminals get away with murder then you can go ahead and cheer Walker was right to kill and let him destroy the world!😁" is a better fit, I think.

With the path he's going down, Walker is on track to cause a massive international incident - even bigger than murdering a civilian in a country where he has no jurisdiction.

I think Walker is a very interesting character, and a good character (in the sense that he's well written for marvel's current standards and he has depth) but he isn't a good person by any means. Anyone who doesn't see that massively misunderstood the show's message, and the entire message of the Captain America movies and comics.

I think the fact they're determined to start a fight in an empty room and argue against things that weren't said or implied already demonstrates a severe lack of media literacy. Not to mention resorting to personal insults rather than a civil or analytical discussion says more about them than it does you 😬

I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. Fandom toxicity sucks.

Thank you! I agree that John is a very interesting and well written character, one that you’re supposed to love to hate. And yeah, the original post was for fun and was supposed to be funny because there’s a few similarities between their personalities and physical appearances. Like obviously he’s not as bad as homelander bc Disney will never go that dark for one and two, we’ve only seen John once and it’s just the beginning of his arc.

But damn, to get that mad and call me “hitler” bc I compared the two is just….😭😭

And you’re especially right with the point that Nico isnt even the one who killed Lamar. But yeah, John was soooo justified in killing Nico….

But yeah, honestly I’m just kinda mind blown that someone would act like this. I know I shouldn’t respond bc I’m feeding into it but…🤷‍♀️

Fans be crazy

[icharchivist]

oof like i know France is easy to dunk on but if we could not make jokes about how “what the police would do if you camped on the arc de triumph, they spend all their budget for their military in white flags and baguettes” while our president is, on the contrary, hyperfunding the police (by cutting, among others, the budget that was supposed to go to the hospitals, right before the pandemic, which is also why the gov didn’t *handle* the pandemic well), and that the past few years have skyrocketted in incidents of police brutality, many against vulnerable people, like that one incident against refugees that were camping specifically nearby the places you’re joking about? 

[saltysalmonkid]

Guys i cant stop thinking abt wwdits polycule dynamics so heres me infodumping about them yas

Nandor and Laszlo first bc i care them and people don't talk about them enough!!!! Their relationship isn't all that defined (mostly bc theyre geezers who don't know what a queerplatonic relationship is) but they are very tender and sweet to each other when they want to be. No spoken words, just soft touches and little gestures here and there. I also like to think that the manor they live in was first owned by Laszlo and Nadja but then Laszlo met Nandor and they fooled around on and off so much so that Nandor decided to move in because they had a spare room and he spent so much time at the house already anyway.

Colin Robinson and Laszlo next. Shut up he is not a baby i have no fucking clue what you are talking about you sound insane right now. I think i said this before but i stand by the fact that Colin Robinson will constantly try to annoy Laszlo and then get taken aback and embarrassed when Laszlo just finds his antics cute. When Laszlo realises this he does everything in his power to try and fluster Colin Robinson. It only works about 30% of the time. They go out and do gross, unspeakable amounts of pda quite often because Laszlo's a freak and Colin Robinson can get a pretty good meal out of the collective disgust of the onlookers. Also maybe he enjoys it a little bit but he'd never tell.

Now Guillermo and Laszlo. I'm sure its dawning upon you at this point that when I say "wwdits polycule" what i really mean is "laszlo's continuous quest to obtain more and more partners" and tbh i'm not apologising for it. Once he starts seeing Guillermo as an equal they both find each others' company surprisingly pleasant, and Laszlo takes on a sort of mentoral position in Guillermo's life, teaching him various silly things like playing the piano or how to properly tend to the garden. Guillermo enjoys the domesticity of it all and Laszlo enjoys how enthusiastic Guillermo is when learning. Also, when he finds out that Guillerno is trans he offers to bring him to the witches to get gender affirmation surgeries in a much cheaper and less intrusive manner than human doctors can provide(which is how he did it back in the 1800s, as he tells Guillermo) They reminisce about their childhood, compare past experiences, Guillermo asks him what it was like to be trans back when he was still human, so on and so forth. Sometimes he lets Guillermo tag along on his date nights with Nadja.

Nadja and Guillermo now. Guillermo's not strictly into men, perse, but it's very rare that hes actually attracted to any women. Im not sure if they would be that romantically involved with each other, but they definitely care about each other a lot (specially after the London Incident) and they confide in each other very often. Plus theyre almost the same species of girlboss so they get along pretty well. Usually they'll share looks of exasperation whenever nandor and laszlo do stupid shit and gossip about things and go on fun shopping trips (because laszlo has been banned from shopping ever since he tried to go back home with two carts full of electronics from best buy but nadja still enjoys it so she goes with guillermo instead) Nadja also loves to dress Guillermo up because he has "a steaming heap of donkey shit for a fashion sense" and Guillermo doesn't mind because he likes to be doted on.

Nadja and Nandor now. I actually see their relationship as more of a sibling dynamic than anything, especially w the way they treat each other in the show it's really reminiscent of the way two siblings might squabble, like how they act like they hate each other but when one or the other seems to be in genuine distress they soften up and show genuine care and concern for the other's wellbeing. Some notable examples of this are the gail episode (nadja genuinely being worried that nandor is going to have his heart broken again) and the siren episode (nandor doing his best to placate nadja and help her find her dollie). Because of this i imagine Nandor confides in her a lot, or at least under the guise of complaining. Nadja acts like its a HUUUGE hassle for her every single time but she'll still make no move to walk away from him and will even give him advice on occasion. As for Nadja, she has Laszlo to talk to usually, but everytime they have a lover's spat she'll turn to Nandor and Nandor will usually be kind of at a loss for what to do and will end up awkwardly patting her on the back as she clings to him and moans and cries about how terrible her stupid beautiful husband is being to her. Also, after the London Incident she's become very over protective of Guillermo and will scold Nandor every time he makes him upset.

I'm going to do the rest of the Colin Robinson ones in a batch because i have puzzled over them for ages and still can't come up with anything. Anyway I think out of the rest of them he's most friendly with Guillermo, if only because they spend the most time together as daywalkers. Sometimes if he takes pity on Guillermo he'll do the grocery shopping for him for the week. Nadja and Colin Robinson have a tense relationship at best, especially after Colin Robinson tried to make a move on her that one time. She thinks he is a very annoying little man. Colin Robinson finds her easiest to feed on because she is the most easily irritated one in the house, even more than Nandor. And speaking of Nandor, he's sort of got no opinion on the c-man. They kind of just tolerate each other's existences. Though occasionally Nandor will ask Colin Robinson about things he's genuinely interested in because he knows Colin Robinson knows a lot of stupid random trivia and Colin Robinson will indulge him if only so he can go off on several tangents to drain him a wee bit in the process. (Usually all Nandor asks about are horses.)

Okay, that's all for now gimmy ur own hcs if u hv any

[heytherejulietx]

The Office - Bughead

Masterlists

Requests open (ONLY for Bughead)!

Read on AO3 here!

Notes - Ahh I’m so excited to post this one! This fic is for an April writing challenge by @writers-chateau using the prompt “office au”. This is based on an actual episode of the show “The Office” - season 6 episode 17 “The Delivery”. I’m so happy with how this turned out - this is fuelling my obsession with the show and bughead amazingly. Also thank you to @andmybelovedneitherdoyou for helping me out with some of the characters in this and beta reading it for me, I love you tons! Some characters and lines are taken from the show so not all of this fic is my original content!

Warnings - Pregnancy / labour, mentions of pain.

Word count - 5k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @hppygmc8 @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @luella-cane @bc-jh22

To join my tag list fill out this form

“Good afternoon, I just wanted to check and see if there was anything you needed before I went on my maternity leave since I won’t be here for a while,” Betty leaned back in her seat as she spoke, her free hand resting over her eight months pregnant stomach. She should have been on maternity leave already for a few weeks now, especially considering how far along she was in her pregnancy, but Betty was stubborn and had refused to only until she really had to. Her and Jughead needed the money from two incomes, especially with a baby on the way, and although Jughead had tried to get her to take it sooner, there was no stopping Betty once she was determined to do something. So at almost eight and a half months pregnant she was still working her office job, selling printers, paper, and other stationery supplies. “Yeah, I’m having a baby. Thank you, you're so kind,” The blonde smiled at the nice comment that the customer had left, scribbling down a note on her pink post-its as they continued. “Great, I’ll type up your order for you now. Thank you, have a nice day.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t do that,” Betty sighed as she put the phone down and looked across her desk, where Bret was seated opposite her. “You cannot exploit your baby for sales.”

“Hey, did I tell you we’re having a baby?” Jughead’s voice cut in from where he was sat on Betty’s left in the middle of herself and Bret speaking with a customer, shooting a wink in the latter’s direction when he started glaring at him.

“Hey, stop that Jones.” He snapped.

“Bret, there is nothing bad about talking about your life. People like that kind of stuff-” Betty started, before she winced and squeezed her eyes shut as her right hand pressed into her side.

Jughead looked up over at his wife’s desk with a small concerned frown, a crease forming in between his eyebrows when seeing the pain she was in. Betty had been having contractions since the morning, though since they were irregular and far apart, they had agreed to wait until they were seven minutes apart before going to the hospital. Their insurance company only covered two nights there so they were trying to hold off until midnight, but seven minutes apart was when they were going if she got there before midnight.

“See? Even your baby hates it. They aren't even born yet and you’re using them for your own personal gain. How disgusting.” Bret scoffed, and Jughead just shook his head at him as he wheeled his chair closer to Betty around the corner of the desk.

“You try giving birth to a baby then, Bret.” Betty shot back towards him once the contraction had pretty much passed, gently squeezing her husband's hand when it had been offered to her.

“Fine, easy, my hips are big enough for an easy birth anyways. Maybe that’s why you’re already so bad, you’re too small.” Bret rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you have a baby then if you’d be so great at it,” Jughead proposed, somehow managing to keep himself composed through the ridiculous proposal. “Then you could use your own baby for sales.” He shrugged before he leaned back closer to Betty to check that she was okay, leaving Bret staring into the distance as if he was actually considering the idea.

-

“So, what are you thinking about baby names? I’m dying to know.” Veronica enquired with a smile as she leaned against Betty’s desk, beside where the woman herself was seated in her chair.

As silly as it sounded she had been trying to avoid anything that was even rumoured to induce labour; so no spicy food, no sex (although that wasn’t really a problem in the office - at least not recently), and no walking around unless she really had to. Jughead had offered to wheel her around in her desk chair, but after a recent incident with a shopping cart and a cast on Archie’s arm she decided against it and declined his offer.

“Well, if it’s a boy then he’ll be taking up Jughead’s name as the fourth,” Betty smiled when she caught Jughead winking at her from across the desk, deciding to ignore the sarcastic fake yawn that Veronica let out. “And if it’s a girl then we’re thinking, oh-” She cut herself off with a quiet groan, her hands coming around her stomach as she stiffened in her seat. She felt Veronica’s hand on her arm soothingly, and just as she heard her husband start to speak beside her, his voice was soon drowned out by their excited boss making his way out of his office.

“Oh oh! Contraptions she’s contrapting!” Reggie’s voice rang through the office loudly, very clearly excited that Betty’s baby was slowly but surely on the way.

Reggie Mantle was a strange man. For such a well put together man; slicked back hair, expensive looking suits, and the smoothest talk when he needed to sort a business deal - he was honestly quite far from that. To everyone in the office who got to see Reggie outside of formal business and meetings; he was a loud, childish, obnoxious, idiot. To put it politely. He had a good heart, but he either didn’t use it enough or went too far. When it came to Betty and Jughead’s baby, he was definitely pushing it too far.

“Okay!” He clapped, standing in front of the entire office as he grinned. “Someone call an ambulance, grab the go bag. It’s hospital time let’s go!”

“Why do you have a go bag-” Betty started before she was cut off.

“Okay, calm down Reggie,” Jughead shook his head a little, lifting a hand. “We aren’t going to the hospital yet, we’re trying to wait until midnight because of our stupid HMO.”

“Right, of course, Betty cross your legs and keep ‘em in there.” Reggie pointed at her and earned an irritated look in return from Betty as her contraction started passing.

“Yeah sure, I’ll do just that.” Betty muttered sarcastically with a sigh as she managed to relax back in her seat.

Veronica usually had the best chair in the office - she had lied to corporate about some back issues just to get an expensive though very comfortable chair out of them, compared to the cheap and uncomfortable ones that everyone else in the office had - though through the last week of work she had been letting Betty use it to make sure she was comfortable. She could handle an uncomfortable chair for a week. Just about, anyways.

As Bret distracted Reggie with something that led the two to retreat into his office and Veronica left to go and find Archie, Jughead wheeled his chair around the desk again to be beside Betty and gently took her hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go in now?” He asked as he gently ran his thumb across her knuckles.

“No, no I’m fine,” Betty smiled and shook her head as she gently squeezed her husband’s hand. “When they’re seven minutes apart then we’ll go. I really wanna try and make it until twelve, Jug.”

“Okay, as soon as they’re seven minutes apart then we go.” Jughead gently squeezed her hand back and pressed a kiss to her lips for a moment, matching her smile with his own once he had pulled away before he wheeled back to his own seat. Of course he was worried about her, he hated how much pain she had to go through for their baby to come, but he was happy that they would be going to the hospital soon to have their baby - whether it was before midnight or not.

-

“Alright, seven minutes,” Jughead clapped his hands together as he walked over to Betty’s desk where she was sat with a grimace across her features as she gripped the arm rests of her chair, breathing out through her teeth. “Couldn’t quite make it to midnight but that’s okay, we’ll just get you settled at home after. Let me just grab the bag and then we’ll go.” He gently rested his hand on her arm before he turned to leave, though stopped when her hand reached out to grab his arm.

“No no, slow down Jug. I’m okay we don’t have to go yet.” Betty breathed out, and Jughead couldn’t help but frown in confusion and concern.

“What? Betty, no, we need to go.” He shook his head with a frown, becoming increasingly worried that they would be putting it off for too long. Jughead was well aware of how stubborn Betty could be, especially over something like their insurance, but he really didn’t think that it was such a big deal that they wouldn’t get as much time in the hospital as they had liked. He would just settle Betty comfortably in their bedroom when they got home with the bassinet for the baby. He didn’t really get why it was such a big deal to stay at the hospital.

“No, Jug, we can wait a little longer. It’s okay,” She managed to smile a little once her contraction had passed, reaching out to gently take his hand with a gentle squeeze. “The doctor said anywhere between five to seven minutes. We’ve still got time.”

Jughead stared at her for a moment before he sighed and reluctantly gave in, knowing there wasn’t any persuading Betty once she was being stubborn about something. If there was anything he had learnt about his wife after being with her for a good couple of years, it was that she was even more stubborn than him. And that was saying something.

“Fine,” Jughead sighed and nodded. “Fine, we’ll leave at five minutes. But no later, okay? I’m serious, Betty.”

“Of course. Five minutes.” Betty smiled.

Jughead exhaled and nodded as he squeezed her hand again before he sat back in his seat at his desk beside hers, trying to focus back on his work. But he could barely pay attention, glancing back at his wife every few minutes; and practically staring at her with a frown when she had another contraction that left her wincing as she leaned back in her seat.

“Stop staring at me,” Betty breathed out as she met his gaze, her hands cradling her enlarged belly. “I’m fine don’t worry.”

“Okay crazy,” Jughead scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I think I have some better things to do with my day than worry about you. Like sell printers. Well, now ‘till Friday; twenty percent off all toner cartridges. That’s a big deal. While we’re on the subject why don’t I just run you down to the hospital?”

“Nice try,” Betty shot a finger gun at him, smiling a little more as her husband shook his head irritably. “Five minutes apart, sweetie.”

“Yeah five minutes apart I know.” Jughead grumbled in annoyance, the tapping of his fingers against his keyboard becoming harsher and louder as he grew more irritated.

“Hey, guys,” Archie wheeled over on his seat from across the office, one hand on his arm rest as the other - which was still in a cast - rested in his lap. “Word of advice, speaking as a former baby. Don’t get too hung up on baby names. I was named Walter Jr. named after my great grandfather, until I was about six or so when my cousin was born, and my family changed their mind. They thought my cousin better exemplified the Walter Jr. name so they gave it to him, and I was renamed Archibald out of a baby names book from like the eighteenth century. How cool is that?”

Betty and Jughead blinked and glanced at each other for a moment, trying to process what Archie had just told them, before Jughead nodded as he turned to face him again. “Thanks, Arch. We’ll be careful about it.” He nodded, and Archie grinned at him as he nodded to.

“Oh my god, Betty,” Veronica gasped as she came over, standing beside Archie as she rested her hand over her chest. “You are such a strong and brave woman. Did you know that you could be in labour for like twenty hours? That’s twenty hours of pain like this-“

“Veronica?” Jughead cleared his throat.

“-and your hair and teeth can fall out, like you could lose them all-“

“Veronica.” Jughead repeated a little firmer.

“-and the baby can get stuck and hurt and you can like pass out and bleed really bad-“

“Thank you Veronica for letting us know!” Jughead spoke loudly, causing Veronica to jump and shut up immediately. “Don’t you guys have some work to do?” He shot an irritated glare towards her and Archie, which caused them to just nod before they retreated to their own desks. He looked back at Betty and frowned when he saw her scared expression, reaching across the desk to take her hand. “Hey, that’s not gonna happen with us. You’re already pretty far along. Far enough along to get going already-“

“Jug it’s not happening.” Betty told him, and he rolled his eyes, but frowned when she groaned quietly and clutched at her belly again.

“Okay, baby time!” Reggie stepped out of his office and clapped his hands, a grin over his expression as he walked over towards Betty and Jughead’s desk.

“No, we aren’t going yet.” Betty got out through gritted teeth, and Jughead just sighed as he looked at her, his bottom lip being brought between his teeth for a moment as he started to get a little frustrated.

“Okay, well do you want a distraction to keep you from thinking about it?” Reggie asked, and Jughead practically shot daggers at him as his eye twitched slightly in annoyance.

“Actually, Reggie-“

“Yes please.” Betty cut Jughead off, smiling at Reggie some as Jughead gripped the armrest of his chair tight enough for his fingers to dent the cheap rubber covering it.

“Okay great. Uhm, Jughead and Veronica will you guys go in the break room with her?” Reggie asked as he gestured to Betty, and Jughead had to clamp his jaw to keep from expressing how irritated he was as he stood up and took her arms to help her up and to walk her to the break room along with Veronica.

“Betty, I have this brilliant movie on my laptop we can watch together since Archie doesn’t want to watch it with me. It’s got Leonardo DiCaprio in it; total bae, I know.” Veronica grinned as herself and Jughead helped Betty into one of the seats in the break room beside the many vending machines they had in there.

Once Betty had smiled and nodded Veronica left to get her laptop from her desk, leaving Betty and Jughead alone as he moved to sit beside her.

“You’re annoyingly stubborn, you know that?” He asked her, and she just fondly shook her head as she took his hand.

“You still love me though.” She told him with a smile as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Jughead chose to sit with Betty and Veronica to watch the movie, just to make sure Betty was okay and to sit with her through the contractions. At some point Reggie had joined them, which only made Jughead more irritated at his attempt to talk Betty through her contractions, which we’re just extremely annoying.

“Alright, you’re at six minutes apart, another like seventy-five contractions and you’re going to be there.” Reggie told Betty with a grin, earning an irritated look from the couple and a sharp “shh!“ from Veronica who was extremely interested in the movie.

“Six minutes is close enough to five. You know what? I’m just going to call Doctor Keller he’ll know what to do.” Jughead stood up, extremely worried and irritated as he let go of Betty’s hand to grab his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Jug-“

“No Betty we should probably call-“

“Honey we don’t even need to go yet-“

“Actually yes I think we do-“

“Guys can you shut up I’m still watching this movie.”

“Yeah Jug you’re really distracting me from my distraction right now. Sweetie, I love you, but I’m trying to watch this movie.” Betty spoke a little louder over Jughead’s worried rambling, causing his jaw to clench and his eye to twitch in irritation again as he looked at his wife. “Why don’t you try and go do some work?”

“Great,” Jughead nodded with a sarcastic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry for worrying about my wife who’s going into labour.” He huffed as he walked out of the break room, leaving Betty with Veronica and Reggie to watch the movie.

Though instead of going back to his desk he walked straight past it and towards the exit of the office, ignoring Bret’s complaint that he wasn’t working as he quickly went down the stairs and left the building to head towards his car. He unlocked it and got inside, rooting around in one of the bags they kept in the back seat until he found what he was looking for; four pregnancy books.

“Five to seven minutes,” Jughead mumbled as he flipped through the first book, before he tossed it into the back seat and opened the next one. “Five to seven minutes,” He repeated, the next book being thrown. “Six minutes; different, but not really,” He huffed before he opened the next one. “Five to seven minutes.” He groaned and dropped his head down to rest on the steering wheel, though flinched and sat back up when he had accidentally beeped the car horn.

He sat down there on his own for a good five minutes before he heard a light tapping on the car window, and looked up to see Betty stood there. She motioned for him to roll down the car window and he quickly did so, leaning his arm on the door of the car afterwards.

“Hey,” She smiled. “I’m not going to get into the car because I know you’ll try and drive me to the hospital.”

“Ah, you know me too well.” Jughead nodded, fiddling with his tie as he looked up at his wife.

“Jug?”

“Hm?”

“Everything is fine, okay?” Betty smiled reassuringly. “I’m okay, we still have time, she isn't coming for a while yet.”

Jughead froze as Betty did, his mouth dropping open slightly as he met her gaze. “She?” He whispered.

“Oh god I’m sorry,” Betty clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “I called the doctor last week, I just couldn’t wait. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Jughead’s voice broke as he smiled uncontrollably, reaching his hand out of the car to grasp his wife’s gently. “How could I be mad? We’re having a little girl,” He nodded a little as his vision grew slightly blurry, tears collecting along his waterline. “Really?” He asked, and was met with a teary smile from his wife that matched his own as she giggled.

“Yeah,” Betty smiled brightly. “We’re having a baby girl.”

Jughead let out a light laugh and nodded, his smile only widening as he lifted his hand to run over his eyes before he leaned out of the car enough to hug Betty, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. Originally he had wanted to wait until the baby was born to find out the gender. He had refused multiple times when the doctor had asked, not wanting to find out prematurely, but he couldn’t even be the slightest bit unhappy that Betty had let it slip early, the emotions that were running through him in that moment were indescribable; he couldn’t wait to find out how much better it would feel once the baby was born. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jug.” Betty whispered, gently hugging him back before she let him go so he could lean back into the car.

“Okay, I’m gonna go back upstairs, okay?”

“Okay.” Jughead nodded and smiled as he gave her a once over, but paused when he saw what she was wearing. Before he had left the office she was in her usual attire; a skirt and a jumper. But now she was wearing a pair of maternity leggings and one of his hoodies, an outfit he knew that she kept in the office just in case. “Did you change outfits?”

“Oh yeah, my water broke so I had to.” Betty shrugged before she turned to go back into the office.

“Oh right.” Jughead nodded as he sat back in his seat, still thinking about the baby more than anything else. Though once he had processed what Betty said he sat up and looked over at her just as she was walking back inside. “Wait what?”

-

Jughead had been pacing outside of the break room where Betty was with Reggie for what felt like hours, though in reality it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. He knew if he was in there then he would just stress Betty out more with his (rational) worrying, so he opted to stand outside. Though it was definitely worse out there; having to listen to Betty in pain and Reggie’s annoying talks through it was really just setting him even more on edge.

“Okay, that’s fine, almost made it to midnight but you should probably go to the hospital now.” Reggie was saying as Betty groaned again. “Too bad you didn’t have sex like… seven and a half hours later. But you had to have the afternoon delight, I understand, sometimes you just have to go for it.”

“N-no, I’m fine, the doctor said it’s s-still considered a minor contraction as long as I can still talk through it-” Betty barely forced the words out shakily before she groaned, causing Jughead to immediately walk into the room with a frown.

“Okay, Betty we really should go.”

“No, it’s fine,” Betty started as Jughead walked over to her, shaking her head. “That wasn’t even the worst of them, no-” She started rambling as Jughead took one of her arms and Reggie took the other to try and get her out of the seat.

“Betty come on.”

“No, no Jug it’s fine-”

“We should really go now-”

Everyone started talking at once as the men tried their hardest to pull a struggling Betty out of the seat before she scowled and shook her head harshly. “No!” She yelled, tugging her arms away harsh enough for them both to let go of her. “No! No I am not going yet! I’m not going okay? I’m not going because I can’t do this I don’t think I can do this.” Betty’s voice broke as she started crying, her lip trembling as her vision blurred with unshed tears.

Jughead’s gaze softened as he looked at her, a frown curving his lips downwards as her voice filled him with sadness and sympathy for his wife.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked softly as he crouched in front of her chair, taking one of her trembling hands in his as she sniffled in front of him. “Betty, you are the strongest person I know. If anybody can do this then you can, okay?” Jughead asked softly, and she nodded tearily in response. “I’m scared, love, I’m so scared. But this little girl is going to be the luckiest baby out there because she has the best mother in the whole damn world.”

“You’re having a girl? Really? Guys, I wanted to be surprised what the hell?” Reggie complained from across the room.

Jughead only rolled his eyes and chose to ignore him as he turned back to Betty. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do; we’re going to get our bag, go down to the car and drive to the hospital, and then we’ll have our beautiful baby girl. Okay?” Jughead squeezed her hand when she nodded and smiled as he stood up to kiss her forehead softly.

“Thank’s Jug.” Betty whispered as she looked at her husband.

Jughead nodded before he turned to look at Reggie, clearing his throat. “How’re we doing on contractions?”

“Two minutes.”

“Two- two minutes?” Jughead asked, a glare quickly being sent to Reggie as frustration quickly bubbled up inside of him. “I thought I said to let me know at five minutes- what good is two minutes that’s too late two minutes doesn’t help us! What happened to four and three minutes huh?” Jughead started rambling as he helped Betty out of her seat who was starting to get worked up again.

“Jug we can still drive-” Betty started, stopping his rambling for a moment, before she gasped and almost fell over at the intensity of her next contraction, groaning as she gripped onto Jughead’s hand tightly.

Jughead frowned and held her up, his free hand rubbing her back as she started crying again. Reggie, who was clearly flustered and not too sure what to do, grabbed Betty’s jacket from the chair and helped Jughead lead Betty out of the room as her contraction started to past.

“It’s go time people!” Reggie yelled across the office, letting Jughead hold Betty up completely as he walked out in front of the whole office. “Veronica call an ambulance!”

“No, ambulances are for emergencies only,” Bret spoke up with a glare. “You call an ambulance I call the cops.”

“We’re driving it’s fine,” Jughead spoke up as he carefully helped Betty sit down at her desk chair, gently pressing a kiss to the crown of her head in hopes of keeping her calm. “I’m just going to grab the bag and we can go, okay?” He asked softly and Betty nodded as she gave him a tearful smile. “Okay.” He gave her arm one last squeeze as he quickly jumped up and practically ran across the office to where they were keeping the bag in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, his heart racing a million miles an hour in the panic and excitement (though mostly panic) that their baby was on the way very soon.

By the time he was back in the main office area everyone was in a panic: Reggie was running around packing his own go bag for some reason, Veronica was squealing excitedly about getting to meet her godchild (they had picked her as the baby’s godmother a few weeks ago and she still hadn’t gotten over it), and even Bret was up and out of his seat, talking to Reggie quickly.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Jughead tried to smile as reassuring as he could towards his wife as he walked back over to her seat with the bag over his shoulders, taking her hands to help her stand up. “Are you good to go-”

“This is ridiculous,” Bret cut him off as he walked over. “Has anyone even checked how dilated she is yet?” As he spoke he pulled out a tape measure and kneeled on the floor in front of Betty.

“Bret!” Jughead and Betty gasped at the same time as he opened the tape measure.

“Bret are you serious?” Reggie scoffed as he walked over. “Give it to Jughead that’s his job.”

As Bret held the tape measure up to give it to Jughead he rolled his eyes and pushed it away, instead moving his hands to his pockets frantically as he started to just freak out further.

“Has anyone seen my keys- where are my keys?” He shouted, before he reached into his trouser pockets and sighed as he pulled them out. “Got them.”

As he started leading Betty out of the room he managed a genuine smile as everyone in the office started shouting goodbye and good luck, and he felt a little relieved when he saw Betty was smiling too. He gave everyone a big wave before he took both of her hands again and led her out of the room and into the elevator so that they could leave.

The whole drive there Jughead kept her hand in his free one, letting her squeeze it as tightly as she needed through contractions and constantly ran his thumb over her knuckles to try and soothe her somewhat. He truthfully was terrified, but wanted to get Betty there as calmly as possible. He didn’t have time to panic about it, as much as he wanted to, he just had to settle with the constant thumping of his heart until they pulled into the hospital and he ran out to grab her a wheelchair.

“We’re here now, okay? Everything is going to go perfect, Betty. We’re going to meet our baby girl soon.” Jughead assured her as he helped her into the wheelchair with a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Jug.” Betty smiled as she reached back to take his hand as he wheeled her to the door.

“I love you, too.” He smiled.

There were two doctors at the door waiting, and as they had offered to help her inside Jughead squeezed her hand before he let it go. “I’m just going to park the car, I promise I’ll be back in a minute.” He told her as one of the doctors started wheeling her inside, and smiled at her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Jughead got back in the car and took a few minutes to find a parking space, though once he had he sat in the car for a minute longer than needed. His fingers reached up to brush along the edge of the scan photo that was clipped to the mirror of the car, an easy smile sweeping across his lips as it took everything inside of him to not get emotional again. Even though he was still panicked and worried and terrified, he couldn’t help but take a moment to smile and breathe.

He was simply excited to meet their little girl, and that would be enough to keep him smiling forever if he could.

[writingpuddle]

(responding to your tags bc it's interesting and i've been thinking about it a lately) andrew isn't necessarily less violent when medicated be he definitely follows through more when he's sober? and he gets distracted much more easily from being angry when he's medicated. in the first book he smacks neil with the exy racket, but it seems more like an impulse than planned, and then we see him threaten people twice (nicky and kevin) but not follow through, also on impulse, his plan to drug neil, which is carried out semi-sober, and that's about it. (he also threatens to hurt himself but doesn't follow through, impulse as well) after easthaven he pretty much immediately chokes allison and has to be bargained with to stop, punches matt, threatens katelyn, chokes kevin and has to be physically pulled off him before he stops, attempts to physically fight the fbi, nearly punches neil, and breaks rikos arm. idk i wouldn't say he's like, nonviolent on medication by any means but i think it did defang him in the way the court intended it to, for the most part. he does genuinely seem to lose interest in following through in the first part of the books, and he gains that focus back in the latter half. obv this isn't like, an ironclad theory and also it's possbile i'm missing smth bc this is off the top of my head, but i also think that as far as it cosmetically looking like it's making a difference it could just about pass muster for a parole officer who's making sure there haven't been any extra murders yet.

sorry this is super long i just have many thought thank u for ur time

oh my GOD do not apologize for sending me this i am so happy to see all your thoughts and i think its totally fascinating. i am 100% with you on the fact that sober andrew has more follow-through--hitting someone who hit someone else like...yesterday is a very pre-meditated, almost clinical sort of violence. there's no real emotion to it, it's just methodical punishment, and drugged andrew seems like he would respond at least less reliably with violence since the drugs would wash away his immediate emotional reaction by the time he ran into matt again.

so its more a matter of...is clinical violence more violent than impulsive violence? which is why i would want to actually like. collect all the incidents and compare them not just in number but severity. because of the nature of plot, a lot of really insane shit happens in late in the series when andrew is sober, versus many of the triggers for his violence when he's drugged are a lot less serious; nicky making an off-colour joke, kevin being pushy about exy. it's hard to directly compare that to like, someone andrew loves being kidnapped and presumably murdered. i couldnt confidently say if drugged andrew would react with less violence to that situation because drugged andrew never encounters a situation that serious (excepting drake, in which case its a) against himself, who he doesnt value as much as his family b) he's too physically injured to do much other than hold on to aaron).

(actually speculating about how drugged andrew might have responded to baltimore is an interesting puzzle--but then its begs the question of how neil and andrews relationship might have evolved if andrew was still drugged, since i personally hc that andrew isnt comfortable with engaging in sexual activity when he's high)

BASICALLY i could make a case for either side really, because its so ambiguous. i can kind of see how andrews sober, methodical and premeditated violence would be more frightening to people than the emotionally impulsive one-off incidents that happen when he's drugged, but the volatile nature of andrews moods when he's on his medications do not seem super safe either.

i think tho we can agree that andrews medications werent really about his own mental health--they were about controlling his behaviour. whether they worked or not...unclear. whether they were ethical or not? hell no.

ugh. next time i read the books im gonna have to use sticky notes to keep track of all the incidents. im gonna have a goddamn spreadsheet of andrew behaviours.

[thefirstknife]

you have a personal vendetta against other blogs bc you keep tagging them asking why they're not talking about this or that issue. essentially, you're policing them about what they should or shouldn't post about. for the record, this isn't a jem defense ask, and you dismissing criticism about your behavior by saying "you sound like someone who only reads jem's blog" is incredibly disrespectful yikes.

I only ever tagged Jem, once. I replied once before to an already existing post, but that's about it. No clue which other blogs you're talking about as being tagged out of the blue by me.

I wondered about Jem in particular because she vagued about the drama and called everyone performative activists who are dogpiling an artist for woke points and I found that very strange because I've seen Jem telling people they're ableist and sexist if they're talking about a theory about Osiris.

No idea how to make this as clear as possible, but I'll give it a try, under the cut because long:

Jem said that certain fandom behaviour is ableist and sexist, which means that Jem understands that fandom behaviour about certain characters can be harmful. She posted about this, called people out as being sexist and ableist and also noted that if Bungie goes with that theory, she will support dogpiling the devs about being sexist and ableist.

Yesterday we discovered whitewashed art and pointed it out, but there's been an incredible amount of backlash saying we're all armchair activists posting for woke points by calling out whitewashing.

What's the difference? Why is Jem acting like her takes are legitimate activism, but other takes are just "hashtage woke"? Why is calling out whitewashing not a legitimate fandom issue to her?

Whitewashing is a legitimate issue in fandom and online spaces in general. It should be pointed out. It should also be noted that it can happen accidentally and that we should give the artist the benefit of the doubt to fix the mistake. Which I've done and I'm still willing to do.

You're absolutely only taking this from Jem's side and her post, which she thought I wouldn't be able to see due to me being blocked, but I can see it. Which is why I can tell that you're coming from her post.

This incident is documented here. As stated, Jem used a derogatory term. Jem was notified about using a derogatory term by another user, she DELETED their warning and made a separate post to apologise for using a derogatory term. I find that pretty hashtag woke (to use Jem's terminology) to appear better in other people's eyes instead of replying directly to the user who pointed a derogatory term out and apologising directly.

Pot calling the kettle black (instead I do actually apologise to people directly, I don't delete their replies to make myself look better). I'm glad she apologised for using the term, that's good no matter what and I respect it. I don't respect framing the apology in this way. I don't respect deleting a comment from the person who pointed the derogatory term out, ignoring that person and making a separate post without crediting someone who called you out.

It doesn't help that the same person is the one who pointed out whitewashing and has been getting transphobic attacks from the very people who are reblogging and supporting Jem's post. Basically, Jem evidently does not want to be called out on her mistakes and does not want to acknowledge them.

I also want to address the following:

Nice gatekeeping language with the "ever since you got here." It seems to me that before I got here, some people in the fandom were never challenged on their posts, or they were and they were promptly dogpiled and blocked. Since the incident I linked above, numerous people came out and said that Jem has been a menace in the Destiny community for a very long time.

I am so eager to find out which blogs I've been digging through looking for dirt and ripping out context. Because the only ones I've ever addressed are people are actively engaging in bigotry in the fandom. Bigotry that makes other people unwilling to engage with the fandom, talk and socialise. Bigotry is making the fandom space unsafe for a large amount of marginalised groups in our community. I will KEEP pointing out bigotry in the fandom. I don't even have to dig, because some people in the fandom keep their dirt on the surface, but if I have to dig to prove that there's bigoted ulterior motives, I will.

I want marginalised groups and minors to feel safe in the community. I want bigots to feel unsafe. Not the other way around. Call it performative all you want.

Already addressed this pile of crap. Jem swung here but ultimately missed by a mile. She gave it a try, but unfortunately she doesn't really understand these things very well, which isn't a surprise considering she picks which battles to take by throwing darts on a board and considering she doesn't care who supports her as long as it's support. Post where I explain mentioning anxiety and original post where I mention it. Please try to read through these on your own and engage critical thinking and then compare it to whatever the hell Jem has going on in this paragraph.

The only liar and truth-twister here is Jem. And according to other people in the community, it's nothing new.

Since people aren't clicking links: I got anon hate telling me to do real life activism instead of posting on my Destiny blog. I explained that this is a tumblr blog about Destiny so you can't tell whether or not I'm doing real life activism based on my tumblr blog. I jokingly added that due to having anxiety, I am capable of caring about multiple issues at once. I did not use it as an excuse in any capacity, but Jem has nothing else to attack me for so she had to scrap the bottom of the barrel to find something.

Please read something other than her horrid takes.

Another tragic miss from Jem, who has worse accuracy than me in Trials. I have so many friends to vent to and I've been venting to them this entire time. They're all sending their regards.

This is like a billionth time that I'm saying that I don't support anon hate and that I do not have physical control over other people's devices and tumblr blogs so I can't stop them from sending anon hate. I said it multiple times: don't send anon hate in my name.

I am not sure how Jem wants me to enforce this. But I also received anon hate and so have other people who participated in this discourse so, pot kettle.

Jem is heavily projecting her own reasons for causing drama and thinks that everyone does it for the same reasons as she does. Weird slip.

Anyway, you can tell Jem that I've seen it and that I say: Bye!

[impossible-rat-babies]

@elmshore tagged me to talk about my fic our reflections!

gonna put this mostly below the cut bc it might get long + im ewbarressed 2 talk bout my fics bc often there is a lot of imagery behind them sdjfls

i’m gonna tag: 

@bitchesofostwick, @trvelyans, @mournholdmushroom, @wayhavn, and anyone else who is a mutual who writes who wants to be just. jabber on about their fic i would love 2 hear it

the idea rumbling around in my head, if I’m remembering this correctly, came after the book three demo came out and there is the bounty on the detective’s head for their capture. this got me thinking about how “well it would make sense if the trappers actively went after the detective when they were alone, or otherwise indisposed.” 

That got me rolling on the idea of what happened in the aftermath of such an incident. I wanted more the aftermath rather than the whole omg the detective is in danger haha they’re saved by their LI! I don’t find that as compelling or interesting personally compared to them saving themselves, but they’re injured or had to find a way out of the situation themselves. Or both--I’m not picky.

It was also a sort of fic born out of the desire to see where pollux and mason get on each others nerves/where their conflicts reside. I love fluff between couples, but I also love exploring the more difficult and organic parts of two people together. which this fic was a really great place to explore that between the two of them, mostly because pollux is antagonistic towards asking for help or letting himself be helped. he doesn’t need to be babied in this instance and he had everything under control. the fact that mason is upset over the fact that it actually happened and pollux didn’t tell anyone is irrelevant in pollux’s mind. he got out of it with his life and he can tend his wounds in peace--he doesn’t need help. thus, we have a nice little conflict.

but a bit of dialogue or action that got stuck in my head when i was first drafting it was:

“....fucking hopeless.�� Mason grumbles to himself and Pollux bunches his fingers tightly in his shirt.

“If you’re gonna talk then shit say it to my face, Mason.” Pollux spits his name and he knows he’s playing chicken with a speeding car—sooner or later he’s going to get hit.

Mason turns on him, anger drawing his lips into a snarl and frustration tensing his shoulders,

(take one more step, I swear to god)

“I said...” He starts slow, meeting his grey eyes and there’s a vicious storm in that grey, “you’re fuckin’ hopeless, Pollux.”

“Good.”

we’re gonna ignore how pollux definitely would’ve decked mason if he had gotten much closer.

this part really stuck because in all my writings i’ve done with them, both published and unpublished, it’s often pollux who presents the conflict between them verbally. It’s more in his nature to have that confrontation compared to mason. but this is a flip on that, where mason is just so fed up with this sort of crap from pollux where he says something he doesn’t mean. it does sort of put a stop to the argument though, both of them sort of putting each other in their places. mason unintentionally saying an extremely hurtful statement to pollux, and pollux asserting both that yes mason you said that and yes i am hopeless glad you finally got the picture there chief.

moving on, I didn’t really write one of these scenes before all the others. I skipped past a majority of the main argument to get to the meat of that and then built everything up around it. I did skip to after the argument where pollux is in the bathroom alone too. fun fact: the ending is the least edited and most free flowing part of it because i got on a roll + i just didn’t want to edit it. is it less polished and more rushed feeling? maybe. but i did like a lot of the prose i put into the ending. (looking back it’s definitely sort of sparked my obsession with writing about hands and the minuscule movements of hands in fic. if i don’t spend a couple sentences of a character paying attention to hands then what sort of gay writer am I?)

--

the image in my mind when writing fics is often playing things out as a movie scene. it’s all constructed in my head, the environment, the placing of the characters in the space, their interactions. i pick out what seems the most relevant even if it seems rather mundane. blinds or curtains being open, the color a lamp sheds--if it’s more blue or yellow. (bluer whites always read more clinical or impersonal, where more yellow lights feel more homey and personal). or like the color of the tile. I love thinking about the color of bathroom tiles/the inherent cold touch of bathroom tiles. i also like thinking about bathrooms as much as i like thinking about vintage hotel rooms.

but in this fic I was really wanting to hit on the “this is the middle of the night when no one should really be awake unless you’re getting into trouble” but also “this is the middle of the night when people say things or get into arguments because the dark hides everything.” 

also i dunno why i’m so stuck on only having one light source in a scene i write, it’s become a habit and i dunno why.

--

I didn’t really take inspo from another piece of media. i mean, it’s undoubtably got bits of tropes and such stuck into it, but such is writing. im not saying this is entirely original because it isn’t, i just can’t think of anything.

and like i said before, the book three demo with the trapper bounty really got me thinking. well that and the realistic part of what would happen if pollux got jumped by three or four trappers intent on kidnapping him.

me taking the idea of the detective possibly never having killed someone and tossing that shit out the window.

not that pollux is eager to kill people, or is fine with it. tensions just run high when you’re being attacked and slamming a person’s head into the bonnet of your car until they stop moving in a viable tactic for him. did the trapper live? i dunno, pollux certainly doesn’t.

--

i guess the cornerstone going around with this fic was stated above--the strained, realistic, not getting along parts of relationships between people. the subjecting these characters to a possible thing that could happen and seeing how they deal with it in their ways and the conflicts that brings.

but there’s also this chance to grow, to figure things out and avoid a repeat of the situation. it’s as much about the nitty gritty as it is the learning process of being with someone. like when mason explicitly asks/says in his own way for pollux to not do something like that again, whether thats fighting the trappers on his own, or refusing to be helped. or pollux not outright saying no, but rather saying he’ll try. it’s a step along the way towards making it work.

i know i write a lot about the rough and angsty parts of a relationship, but it’s also partially about the growth between characters. the realism of the bickering, the fights, the missteps along the way when you’re trying to make a partnership work. it’s the caring enough to make a mess, to not turn ones back on someone for being difficult. 

i love writing gross--both angsty gross and fluffy grossly human stuff!

[bellamyblakru]

HEYYYYYYY i’m so excited to respond to ur ask it made me so happy to see u in my notifs and i’m so excited for u for ur milestone! anyways i kinda want all of them but i decided to cut down to 🥺 :)))) 👀 pls rant i will read it all and ☕️ for morgwen andddd manon from the tog books. <3 <3 :*

HEY AMY!!! i hope you had a lovely day today🥺thank you for the ask💞

🥺- for my mutuals, ill talk about why i follow you and why everyone should be as well

omg im pretty sure i met and started following you like the day of that bellamy scene™️ because i remember thinking how fucking horrendous that episode ended, and, at the same time, how amazing that night on tumblr was aksnakaaj. so that night, tumblr was a fucking disaster and chaotic and funny asf. i remember texting @tkstrrand the entire ep (bc she couldn’t watch it for some reason) like how boring it was/how she wasn’t missing much blahblah and then when the death scene happened at the last fucking second, i sent her about a thousand separate incoherent texts in the span of like two minutes LOL tumblr was in shambles and i made a few posts about how fucking dumb the show was—one post i made i told my few new followers to fuck the 100 and just watch merlin and you texted me about it!! we have literally so much in common (with merlin, atla, the 100, tog!!!) that when you texted me about how you felt about that scene compared to merlin’s ending, my thought was like “this blog is so kind and we feel the same way and i need to follow asap.”

you are literally so sweet and lovely to talk to🥺that night™️ may had been disastrous, but i can look on it with a lighter heart because we met because of it!! every time we talk i always smile so much (and dw, i know i still have to get clone wars for our boy anakin👀👀)

dude, everyone should be following you because your blog is incredible, your tags are superb, and you are literally one of the sweetest people i’ve met on here😭💞 i adore you.

👀 - and ill tell you a parallel from merlin or the 100 that still fucks me up

this post for merthur still FUCKS ME UP by @camelotsheart

THE EYES. THE GIFSET’S BEAUTIFUL COLORING. THE EYES. EYES. I CANT. THIS GIFSET HAUNTS ME. parallels, man, i fucking love them.

☕️ + send me a ship/character/movie/book and ill give you my opinions on it

my opinions on morgwen:

I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I SHIP IT WITH MY WHOLE ASS SOUL. dude, their potential as a ship is incredible😭i fucking love them together. i wrote them as a side pairing in my first multi-chapter merthur fic and i adored writing their interactions and dynamic sm. if morgana was going to be with anyone, my first choice will always be gwen. i also read them as a pairing in fics all the time because the pure power-couple potential is insane.

hot ☕️ here™️: i think if someone was to bring morgana back from the brink of hatred, it should have been gwen (not merlin). so, like, i could definitely see merlin telling her about his magic and whatnot and maybe that would have stopped her from going dark side...but...i didn’t think merlin should have (ekk probably an unpopular opinion).

see, i love merlin with my entire heart..and tbh telling uther fucking pendragon’s ward that he had magic was just too much of a gamble—especially with arthur’s life on the line, which literally became merlin’s sole purpose in life (another matter for a different essay™️). i understand his need to keep it a secret from her even more when the large reptile repeatedly got into merlin’s head that she was bad news from the jump (also another matter for a different essay™️).

SO. that leaves two options for our miserable magical gal: arthur or gwen. now, i honestly believe arthur wouldn’t have hurt her if he was told. and i even think he may have became more sympathetic to the magical community because of it—especially when he saved mordred wayyyy early on that cemented the fact that arthur was not uther. but i can also understand why morgana wouldn’t tell arthur, and it’s pretty much the same reason merlin didn’t tell her about his magic: the risk was too big and she didn’t want to gamble her life with an unknown reaction.

now we get to the main point: gwen would have been the best option for her. whether it is platonic or not, gwen was always there for morgana. gwen is such a kind, loving soul, and she deeply respected and adored morgana—you can tell by the way she smiled around her in the beginning seasons, how she would get her flowers, how she would worry about morgana’s wellbeing. even though gwen was morgana’s servant, she cared for her in more ways than were required and it showed. they were best friends. the entire incident with gwen’s father, which was horrendous, might be the reason gwen would be rightfully upset about the subject of magic; however. she knew her father wasn’t magical, she knew uther was a tyrant, and she knew morgana’s heart. someone is gonna tell me that if morgana had explained to gwen what happened, how her magic was innate, how morgana would never fucking choose to have magic anywhere near her shithead guardian (who probably would have killed her imo if he knew bc you know the whole “fire will purify” bullshit), that gwen would hate her??? I MEAN LITERALLY WATCH THE LAST EPISODES AGAIN. when QUEEN GWEN realizes that the whole time it was merlin saving everyone’s asses, and she connected all the dots, her face showed nothing but pure understanding and acceptance.

gwen was such an underused character. her fucking potential arcs could have been phenomenal (again, LOL, another matter for a different essay™️), and the way canon made morgana use gwen was fucking gross and im not a fan🙃 but fuck canon. i ship them and i love them to pieces ✌🏻thank you for coming to my talk✌🏻

my opinions on manon mf blackbeak:

oh boy, where do i start? i would die for her...is that too extreme for the starting place? i fucking LOVE manon blackbeak dude. oh my god, so, remember when her and aelin fought for the first time in QoS? i remember jumping up from my lounging position with my hand over my smiling mouth because i love both of these badass hardcore women with everything i am. i mean, aelin owns my ass (she is probably my favorite character of all time rn) but manon hits differently. her storyline at the beginning was so bleh, but, man, did it escalate fast to “holy shit” to “i fucking love her” to “oh fuck im sobbing.”

the only thing i will complain about with her character in canon was the fact that my girl was straight???? excuse me?? she has been alive for fucking forever and she is straight? no. i cant accept that. tbh i ship manon and elide🥺 (i also ship dorain and chaol oops). but her character development was everything and i cant think too long on what happens because i will start crying tbh sksjsmakks

okay wow im so sorry for, uh, spilling every thought i had into this. it legit took me like a day to respond 😔

i appreciate you so much. thank you🥺💞

[hinasho]

isle of the lost vs descendants 1 characterizations

the book ends literally when the movie starts so their personalities cant be that different right? lets see

(similarities posted at the bottom!)

DIFFERENCES:

book: when evil queen goes on about beauty related things, especially in regards to her daughter, usually evie would begrudgingly recite whatever “tip” eq taught her and just go along with what she says. not to say she hated those kinds of things, but whenever her mother brought it up, she never expressed similar excitement or engagement. more often than not she was indifferent to her mother’s beauty antics, and we only see her talk about them in regards to herself in the last few chapters (im not talking abt the mirror incident, but the one liners she’d drop about her appearance here and there) movie: when the parents first tell their kids about going to auradon, eq talks about sprucing her daughter up before she leaves and evie is visibly excited about the makeover. she also goes onto encourage it on others as seen when they’re all in the limo and she tries to put makeup on mal.

book: the villain parents are not friends and we almost never see them together. the one time we saw the parents/adults all together was in the prologue scene for evie’s 6th birthday party. after that they never interact and dont pay each other any mind. this is especially true regarding evil queen and maleficent, as they state in the book that they’ve been at odds ever since they fought over who’d rule the isle. eq has also just been welcomed back into society after being banned by the other, so time-wise, at worst, they are still enemies and, at best, barely tolerable acquaintances. movie: evil queen & maleficent have a significantly close relationship, so much so that eq knows her house like the back of her hand and where maleficent keeps things, specifically that her spellbook is in the fridge. they even have a laugh about how they use to run things before being forced to live on the isle. they seem to be genuinely close. 

put the rest under the cut bc this post is too long lol

book: jafar and jay’s mantra is “whoever has the gold makes the rules” which was significant because it helped them while in the forbidden fortress movie: jafar and jay’s mantra is “there’s no team in I” (while this change was surprising, i also wasn’t that upset abt it bc both book and movie!jay struggle with teamwork)

book: carlos is not athletic at all and goes on about how he hates gym class. he is very focused on stem and doesn’t really care about any other kind’ve hobby. meanwhile jay is athletic and does casual parkour when going anywhere. movie: both of them do extreme parkour in the opening song. im not referring to the dancing ofc, but the extra flips and tricks they do. this is not unusual for jay, but is in regards to carlos.

book: jay isn’t the only one that goes around stealing things, mal very much does it to. at the end of the day they’d even compare how many things they’ve stolen to see who’s the best thief. jay usually wins, but still, both are thieves. movie: when they get to auradon, mal is very confused as to why jay would take the time to steal things and even needs for him to explain why he does it.

book: ben describes audrey as a classic fairy tale princess. she finds all things in auradon lovely and beautiful, and even has a bird land on her finger during their date. while she does think negatively of everyone on the isle, she acts mostly “lovely and sweet” before anything else, and it is not faked. think: giselle from enchanted. movie: idk how else to explain this difference besides “audrey just has a different vibe”. she is more regina george-esque than genuinely cheery, and puts on an obviously fake smile and attitude so often that queen belle expresses distaste for her 

SIMILARITIES:

mal likes art and goes around the isle putting up tags --- (the romance storyline wasn’t bad, but it would’ve been nice to see mal maybe join an art club? or get into painting or smthg else related to her hobby)

carlos is afraid of dogs --- in the book he can’t even say or hear the word bc it’s a trigger for him. he can say “puppies”, but he cannot say the word dog. whereas in the movie, he says the word several times. this is an extremely minor difference to be fair

when they’re afraid/think they’re in danger, they all cling to jay

they’re not used to sunlight 

the ben & mal tension on first meet (and continued infatuation before the cookie scene) --- in the book both characters have had a dream about the other. they didn’t know who the other was, but they remembered the dreams vividly enough that they were able to describe their faces in detail. in the movie when they first meet, both pause on each other several times. it’s likely because of the o’l Disney Romance™️, but it could also be because of curious recognition. 

jay is a flirt/smoother charmer and girls fawn over him

carlos is good with and likes science & technology

mal wanting to prove herself to her mother & the others not being as set on it --- in the book, mal is constantly reminded of the times her mother has called her “not worthy of bearing her own name or of being her daughter” and it causes mal to lose her cool several times. the other VKs also have parental issues ofc, but ones that are not as focused on proving themselves like mal’s are. theirs lean more towards other problems. in the movie she is extremely insistent on reminding them what they’re at auradon for and that this is their “one chance to prove themselves”

the core four freeze in fear when confronted with the reality of their parents’ pasts

mal can touch maleficent’s scepter --- to be fair that dance number in the museum was most likely just mal daydreaming, but still

jay going off on his own/following his own plan --- in the book jay and jafar plan for him to go with mal to the forbidden fortress and then double cross her and steal the scepter for himself, taking it as their “big score”. in the movie when they first see the wand with their own eyes, he runs off in front of everyone and only opens the gate enough for himself to squeeze through. carlos has to open it wider so they can all get through it after him. and once theyre in the same room as the wand, he reaches for it first against mal’s wishes.

carlos is bad at sports --- this is in both the differences & similarities section because, while in the book & movie he’s bad at sports, in the book he also doesnt like them and has no desire to do them as he is completely focused on science & tech. while after some practice in the movie, carlos joins the tourney team alongside jay. (i personally would’ve preferred for him to join a computer or engineering club)

mal can manipulate people with ease (book: evie / movie: jane & ben)

fairy godmother is mainly the one that enforces the “no magic” rule --- beast may have created it, but both in the book & the movie, people/creatures talk about fairy godmother being the one that restricts them

carlos climbs trees/searches for higher ground when afraid

evie knows how to use her looks, specifically her smile, to get the things she wants (book: persuading dr. facilier / movie: getting info out of chad)

audrey likes to dance 

carlos is sarcastic & competitive 

mal cheers up evie when she’s upset 

evie is good with academics

ben wanting to be his own person rather than act like his father --- this was a good continuation from book to movie as ben only realizes he needs to be himself in the final chapters, which he just continues to encourage in the movie. 

mal’s spur of the moment saving tactics

the villains aren’t good with computers/the internet --- the isle canonly doesn’t have wifi and in the movie the villains struggle with the laptop that was most likely given to them from an auradon representative

audrey’s family still being deeply traumatized by what maleficent did 

belle not letting beast talk shit 

mal pitying her mother for what she went through --- in the book: when she sees the past of what happened at aurora’s christening and sympathizes that her mother was nothing but a sad lonely girl. in the movie: the “and i really wish you hadn’t gotten there yourself” line during ben’s coronation

annddd yeah!

honestly there were a lot more similarities than i was expecting, and i am pleasantly surprised! book to movie things dont usually crossover well, but honestly, the first movie didnt do too bad of a job of it. 

tbh i think the one that probably suffered the most was audrey’s character. she really seemed very different from her book counterpart. this isnt to say that book!audrey was a saint and would’ve treated the VKs kindly, but she also wasn’t a fake person and was genuinely that cheery and upbeat all the time. whereas in the movie, it seems like almost nobody likes her (except chad) bc of her “fakeness”. 

i personally think if they were gonna go with the “bad girl and her minion” role, then audrey should’ve been the minion. in the book she was kind’ve an airhead (?? idk she just tended to have her head in the clouds a lot) and if one of the auradon girls told her to act a certain way towards the VKs for the “good of auradon”, i could see her listening to them. i dont know if she’d be the one to come up with the evil deed herself though. 

overall, the continuity flowed pretty well. i wish they didn’t change audrey’s character like they did (they probably could’ve had jane play the role of ‘stuckup girl’ tbh since she was a new character and her mother had a higher position in the kingdom compared to audrey’s parents anyway, so smthg to boast abt), but other than that, the movie’s characterizations were kinda close to the books!