#florence sparks

[dreamless-disco]

she's so me coded

I wish my bathroom was big enough to do homework on

[faithless-lovers]

Florence Pugh as Marlene McKinnon

As the daughter of the Minister of Magic, Marlene is raised with the expectation of being a model child. Chafing under the pressure to be genteel and proper at all times, Hogwarts is a welcome safe haven.

However, having grown up with little to no companions of her own age, she struggles to fit in, make friends and find her footing; her desire to be well-liked is a driving force for most of her life and also a source of strife, as her popularity doesn’t translate to the kind of close bonds of friendship she craves. 

After her father's government crumbles overnight and he is carted off to Azkaban for a brief stint in prison however, Marlene finds herself spending the latter half of her Hogwarts years as a rebel, finally rejecting her mother's doctrine and embracing her wilder instincts.

The unjust treatment of her father also prompts her to become an auror - immediately finding success as the department’s rising star. 

[anarchic-miscellany]

Kudos to Simon Helberg: Goes from being in one of the most hated but highly paid sitcoms of the modern era, to doing fantastic supporting work in "Florence Foster Jenkins" and the absolutely incredible "Annette". Good for you man! (Watch "Annette!")

[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 may have been 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.

[controld3vil]

sand walking?

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!!)

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: how to seduce someone walking on sand.

notes: there hasn't been confirmed for dune 3 yet but denise villeneuve has said he's writing for it to happen. ill patiently wait for the day it's confirmed :) ALSO there are fictional/made-up mentions of the novel for the sake of the reader. they're made to be gender-neutral!! and this includes platonic flirting between cast members. i MAY have gotten carried lmaoo

“I mean- what do you think of the character? Do you think they deserved more screen time?” The clip starts off with you comfortably conversing with the interviewer. To say you weren’t deflecting their curiosity. In actuality, you were eager to learn what others thought about your performance and take on the character. The only other interpretation had on-screen was from the classic 1984 film by David Lynch.

The clip that has been widely retweeted back is of a cute moment you had from the first film of Dune (2021). Before release, little was known about your character’s potential. Apart from the enthusiastic book lovers, film viewers were clueless about what role your character would play after the first movie.

Denise Villeneuve didn’t reveal much to you in person. He wanted to keep ideas confidential until he was 100% on board making the project come to life. Still, rumors sparked through speculation and interviews with the cast members of Dune. Including an infamous short, that you forgot about, of yourself boasting about your hopes and wishes for your character.

“Yes! How could we not!” On the opposite side, the interviewer exclaimed as they leaned forward from their chair, closing into your proximity. Their hands clenched, tightening their grip on the flash card, full of questions. “The movie left us on such a cliffhanger. I think everyone would want to know what happened to Nerre,”

“That’s for Denise to decide,” Nodding you gave a relaxed smile while lifting one leg over the other. Your shoulders relaxed, feeling content and ecstatic about their response. “I can’t confirm anything until he gives me the green light to say anything,”

“I’ve also talked to Timothée this morning,” A shift in gears as the journalist flipped over another flashcard. You two had just fussed about the finale and its dramatic cliffhanger. “And all he had to say were the sweetest things about you,” At the mention of your costar compliments, you felt your skin heat up. Your eyes soften, expressing only fondness for the lovely message. A soft awh escaped your breath. “He’s very sweet. Timothee's always been fun to be around.” A fervent chuckle from the interviewer sends them into a feverish excitement. “And- he said- you had great flirting skills!” It was then your face morphed into complete shock and giddiness . “Really?!” The camera pans up on your initial reaction, eyes popping out in surprise and a bubbling laugh slowly erupting. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talents!”

Without context, the short clip seemed harmless. Your sheer reaction to Timothee's comment emphasized the fun chemistry the two of you had on set. Mirroring much of Paul and Nerre's friendship, you both complimented each other well in the first film, being the youngest surrounded by well-renowned actors. But the reason for the recent spike of interest was partially from Dune: Part Two and their interviews.

Fast forward to the debut of Dune: Part Two, it made success at the box office. Even surpassing the first film altogether. The entire cast of Dune was proud of the work they've made. The introduction of new characters played by wonderful actors and actresses all around.

Weeks after the early IMAX screenings, press interviews were being published amongst of the young cast members. A particular interview by IGV Presents brings together Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh, Austin Butler, and yourself.

This would be considered to be one of your first interviews with the Dune cast after the box office release. You felt nervous yet overjoyed at the same time to be meeting your co-actors again after the conclusion of filming had taken place.

The spokesperson of IGV, Simon Harkness starts off the interview strong with a pleasant greeting. "Congratulations on an incredible movie. Uhm it is the definition of a sci-fi blockbuster and is absolutely phenomenal, so huge congratulations to you all!"

"Thank you!" The five of you all politely cherish his kind words.

"It's so lovely to talk to you. Um- Timothee, Zendaya, I'm going to start with you. This is probably the hardest question I've ever asked in an interview so you've been warned." An endearing giggle can be seen from Zendaya before allowing him to continue. "Sand walking, who does it better?"

Timothee immediately lifts up his microphone. "I'm going to give it to Zendaya here." Without glancing at her, you could tell Zendaya was happily smiling at his compliments. How quick he was to answer made it seem how well connected the cast was even given the amount of time spent together. The main lead continues very swiftly, diving more into how cinematic the shot was from an outside perspective, "I think it's the most- one of the most cinematic shots in the movie and she really has it very precisely down but it's the nature of the movie too that she's supposed to be better than Paul,"

"Is that what it is?" In return, Zendaya who sat next to him gave him a teasing look.

Quietly from afar where you sat, next to Austin Butler, you whispered. "He acted like he couldn't do it but," Soft snickering can be heard across the room.

"In fairness to me, I was going 65%- 65 to 70 too hard," Chalamet reasons justly as he glances in your direction before looking back to the interviewer.

"You dumbed it down," Harkness nods in a high-spirited manner. Right after, Timothee reluctantly agrees, keeping the mood light-hearted.

"I had to!"

"Just how committed you are!" Austin steps in, joining in on the joke.

"Zendaya, you can take that crown. I love that," The brown-haired man reassures as she recuperates with appreciative laughter. In truth, it was a beautiful scene between Paul and Chani you were lucky enough to witness behind the camera. And contrary to their light banter, you thought both actors did well at accomplishing what it was meant sand walk. Truthfully you had no scenes beyond walking through the desert but understanding the mechanics and traditions of the Fremen was as fascinating as it was watching it up close.

Suddenly it was Florence's turn to speak, "Zendaya taught me the other day and I had to just stop to stare at her feet."

"The swoopy swoop?" You asked in a cutesy tone, with furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't help but remember the few instances you witnessed your costars practice the sand walk to be one of the more adorable rehearsals you've seen on the sand.

"Yeah, her feet were so pretty! She was doing the swoopy swoops," The blonde acknowledges, waving her hands in a zig-zag pattern. As the replication of water and how her feet moved.

The interviewer's eyes light up, "Honestly I tried to swoopy swoop at home- um because we have a carpet in the bedroom."

"How did it go?" The mixed actress puts forward.

"Awful!" An assembly of bewilderment is seen between Zendaya and Florence as they quickly question why. However, they reassure him in the end that they would practice together in hopes of him archiving the sand walk.

Talks with simple questions went down the row. Florence discusses her experience from her beginnings, starring in Little Women, comparing those scenes in terms of royalty to Dune. In both films, she's worked with well-known actors and now Christopher Walken as the emperor and her father. She raves about how it was a dream come true. A dream she had when she was little. From this experience, Florence emphasizes the concept of learning and observing her fellow actors.

Another intriguing topic follows Austin for his experience between learning choreography fighting and Elvis's iconic rubber legs. In a sense, as you leaned forward on one of your seats, you became fascinated by the Elvis actor's comparison of it all. While Elvis's moves were televised and had to be precise for the camera, being a Harkonnens gave him more leverage in the freedom to move. It was a captivating question that you couldn't help but want to listen to more.

Comparisons aside, you didn't have much to note for your upcoming question. Which is exactly why you felt unprepared for what he was going to ask.

Harkness brings up your name for the finale. "You have done stunt work before. For the first and now second film, I've heard you compared it to rather- dancing. Is that what you think your relationship with the choreography has been?"

You gave a content hum, "You see it with the Fremen or Harkonnens right? Everyone moves so differently and for the course for me, I've had to adjust my choreo little by little. And I think that analogy you mentioned really does relate back to dancing. I don't know if it's because I was once a dancer or that I'm a visual learner," You shrug your shoulders, "But I see the choreography as a dance routine. You're moving alongside people, doing hits and jabs. Both are very hands-on so I would like to approach it as something I can always work on." Satisfied with your answer, you clapped your hands together.

"Kind of like sand walking no?" It was then that Zendaya swerved counterclockwise to face you.

Bringing back the conversation they had in the beginning about sand walking, your eyes instantly brighten. "Exactly like that!"

"I feel like you would be great at sand walking," Florence puffs, mindlessly shaking her microphone back and forth. "You- You already got the moves." Even Timothee came into agreement, humming and commenting you worked well with the choreography.

Austin Butler raises his microphone. "I think you gotta learn with me because I don't think I could,"

"Nonsense!" You give him a silly glare. "If you can do a killer rubber leg, I think you can sand walk." Florence and Zendaya both mumble their support and your male costar leans to have his arm around the back of your chair, warmly.

"Is that an open invitation I see?" The spokesperson, Harkness giggly pokes at than the rest of the cast turns to look at you. Your scowl morphs into an innocent one.

"Hm?" As you squint your eyes in hesitation.

"I feel like you could have the potential to sand walk but just with the right partner," Timothee chimes in, spreading his arms over his chair as well. Your brows furrowed accusingly, as if wanting to clarify what he meant by his comment.

And the French actor gives you a look, one you became so sure of. "Mm right!" A slight eruption of laughs before you straightened your back with proper posture. "With just the right partner,"

There were also hints mentioned in your interview with Timothee surprisingly not. This was one of the more recent ones to be published, as you finally were able to pair up with your favorite co-star (besides Brolin) from the first film. The two of you had strong chemistry despite having less screen time together in the second film.

The beginning of the video cuts to a clip of you answering an innocent question. "What I think about every day, is Timothee going to send to me a meme today? Uh, I hope so!" You give a sarcastic look to your seat partner as he latently laughs in front of you. "Or when is he going to text me you know?"

It then transitions to an interviewer from Heart commercial radio as he shouts out your names. "How are you both?"

"I'm doing good!"

"Going great!"

The radio show was more relaxed than you would've expected as the spokesperson was very down to the earth with his conversation starters and contagious warmth. Timothee was able to catch up with him from his last interview when he premiered his Wonka film. Eventually, the interview became more casual discussing working together, cooking, and trendy topics.

Timothee and you both went back and forth on favorite memories you had of the first film. And talking about the new cast members and new elements it had brought to the table for the film itself.

"Cool new characters this time," As you played around with the fuzzy microphone the camera crew gave to you.

"Yup lots of new people to meet," Timothee adds on, nodding.

The interviewer proceeds with the question, "And also you have seen- there's a clip about of you running around actually." He signals to you, "Of your reaction to something Timothee said about your performance in the first film,"

"Oh! I've seen it," Almost instinctively, your co-star raises his hand. "I was supposed to send it to you but I forgot." As he turns, to finds you looking lost at the topic at hand.

"Really what was it?" You almost looked concerned, seeing how you didn't understand what they meant.

Luckily for you, the Heart radio spokesperson managed to get a hold of the video from his phone, "It was a little callback of Timothee raving about your flirting skills."

As it plays, the camera zooms in on you and your co-actors reaction. The French actor couldn't help but look slightly embarrassed but smitten when the timing of your reaction came on screen. While you held an intrigued stance, arms crossed and a content grin.

"I am pretty good at flirting,"

"You really are, huh." At the same time, you both turn to make eye contact.

"I also heard Tim- that you thought that they would be your love interest initially?" At the radio speaker's inquiry, you couldn't help but in mid-sentence, finally, swerve your head suddenly.

"Yeah well, fun fact actually," The male actor tries to reason, sitting up. "In the novels, Paul and Nerre almost did become a couple!"

It was a well-known fact of that in the first novel, there had been slight changes to the story. Initially, it was said that the author, Frank Herbert had planned for Paul and Nerre, the character you played to have a romantic connection after the fall of House Atreides. Nevertheless, it was later scrapped for another plot, that of instead having Chani as the love interest. But even decades later after the novel’s release, it was something fans still fuss about.

"Oh, I heard about that!" Almost in awe, you nodded, your attention fully on Chalamet, wondering how far he was willing to go beyond spoilers.

"Do you think Nerre would ever meet someone then?" The afro man questions, adjusting his microphone. "Since- Paul has Chani, I feel like if we ever get a potential third film, that could open some doors!"

"If a third film could happen," You start, fiddling with the lining of the mic cover, "I hope so! I mean I got the moves, I got the skills!"

"Keep practicing your sand walk and we'll see," Timothee cutely chimes as you proceed to blow a raspberry at him. Only for him to lightly swat you away.

Despite your failures to have scenes of sand walking, your cast of a crew were more than happy to show you. Javier Bardem and Jessica Ferguson were quite supportive in your interest for something you did not have any part-time. A few behind the scene videos show the actor demonstrating from afar the slower version of the walk.

Though your back was facing the camera, viewers would pick up and recognize it to be you. Jessica as well was off to the side, in her luminescent costume of a million robes, clapping from side to side.

Another later pans to you taking long strides across the sand in the background. In front of the camera are Josh Brolin and Javier having their turn in the video, to discuss their relationship and the previous they have worked on together. However, viewers couldn't help but pinpoint your figure alongside the frame trying to master the patterns of what Javier taught you from the previous clip.

[sincericida]

Do you have any favorite Peter smut fics to recommend? I'm in need something spicy! I'll take anything you can think of!

Dear, if you want to turn up your temperature with some of the smut fics I’ve read recently, here are a few:

So, So Mean, by @lovelettersforthedamned

Smitten, Peter's Angel, The Ruler and The Killer, Peter and a Cam Girl, Enraptured, Doing so Well, Not so Innocent, The Goddess, In The Dark, Cheating With Peter, Phone Sex, and my favorite ever Back to Basics, by @blooming-violets

Love on the Brain: Sugar & Vice, vol 2, Sugar and Vice, Sweet Dreams, These Violet Delights, by @liz-allyn

Bondage, Mattress Acting, by @reysdriver

August Slipped Away by @peterthepark

Symbiote mini series by @mrshipsmcgee

Florence series by @periprose

Dulcet by @jamespottersdaisy

Quiet Temptations by @parkerpeter24

Sparks Fly by @mortwig

Jawbreaker by @witchywcmans

The Angel In The Garden of Evil series, In Your Boss’s Office, Professor Peter Parker by @backtothefanfiction

'Til Kingdom Come by @pedrito-friskito

Masterlist of @withahappyrefrain

This fic of @deviouz

Going to The Edge of Heaven by @multifandomworldsposts

Another Love series by @abibliophobiaa

Too Close For Comfort by @lovelettersforthedamned

Thick and Thin by @ficthots

Daddy Issues seeries by @venus616

I’m Holding my Breath for You by @lxinesux

There must be others I’ve read, but I’ve read so much fanfic… You must find more things in this tag [peter parker fanfic] that I usually put in the fics I reblogged.

Thank you to all the writers on Tumblr!

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, it's me again :) Happy New Year to you and Eggs. I have another idea once you are through with what must be a very long list <3 - So, Reader and Elijah had a romantic whirlwind encounter while she was extensively traveling Europe, living her best life. They agreed to keep it on a first name basis and on keeping things casual. One morning, she just disappears on him. Back in the US, she is taking up a new job/ studies where she meets Klaus, and they start dating (semi casual). Once he introduces her to his family for Thanksgiving, she sees Elijah again, and whatever happens after is completely up to you :) Thanks in advance.

Serendipitous

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader && Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader } When your new life in New Orleans collides with the past you tried to outrun, you come face to face with the man you never stopped thinking about. And worse? You are sleeping with his brother.

♡♡ Once again you give me the most brilliant ideas @originals23~ thank you and I hope you enjoy! ♡♡

8.4k words {whoops} - Warnings: so much smut (there are THREE scenes in this one ~lol I may have gone overboard), unprotected sex (I know, I know, vampires can't reproduce... but reader doesn't know they are vampires...) fingering, oral (f!recieving), casual sex with Klaus, little but of angst, lot's of unresolved sexual & emotional tension, reunion sex, semi-public sex, Elijah being intense and possessive in the hottest way, Klaus being a messy but well-meaning && inappropriate use of a side table...

Your arrangement with Elijah was simple. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

You met by chance on a sunny afternoon in Florence, your tables at a café so close your elbows nearly touched. A passing comment about the wine turned into a two-hour conversation about art, history, and the fleeting beauty of life. His voice was velvet, his presence magnetic, and by the time the waiter brought the check, you were hopelessly charmed.

Keeping things uncomplicated was your idea. First names only. No talk of the future. Just two people indulging in the moment. But there was something about Elijah. His poised elegance, the way he made you feel seen. Made sticking to those rules harder every time you saw him.

Tonight was no different. Except for one thing. This was your last night in Europe, and he didn’t know. You hadn’t told him you were leaving and that the version of yourself he had come to know. The carefree traveler. The woman with no roots… she would disappear as soon as the sun rose. A part of you wanted to tell him, but the words caught in your throat every time you thought to speak. You couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the fragile perfection of what you had, even if it was destined to end.

Now, standing outside the door to his suite, you felt that familiar pull, equal parts excitement and dread. The lock clicked, and the door swung open before you could knock. Elijah stood there, immaculately dressed as always, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Never,” you lied, stepping inside.

The suite was extravagant, warm and rich, but it was his presence that filled the room. He gestured for you to sit, though you barely made it to the sofa before he pulled you into his lap, the contact sending sparks dancing under your skin.

“I was going to ask how your day was,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “but I know you don’t tolerate small talk.”

“Not when there are better things we could be doing,” you breathed, pulling him in for a kiss.

A soft sigh escaped you as your lips met, his strong hands holding you steady, your heart beating in time with his. You were in freefall, tumbling down the rabbit hole of his affection, and as he deepened the kiss, the last shreds of your resolve fell away.

He was so, damn, crushingly good in bed. He knew how to take his time, to read the smallest shifts in your body and adjust his rhythm. When he touched you, the whole world faded away, until all that was left was the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

You tugged his shirt out of his pants, pulling on the buttons of his vest in an effort to undress him faster. He chuckled, sitting back, watching you fumble.

"I can do it," you muttered, blushing as you undid his buttons, his skin hot under your fingers.

He shrugged off his jacket, and you ran your hands up his arms, across his chest, his muscles firm and taut under his crisp shirt. He was always so impeccably dressed, his clothing clearly expensive and well-made. You’d noticed it from the start, how he carried himself like a man born to luxury, but never flaunting it—just letting it linger in the details. It made you wonder what he did for a living, how did he earn his money? You knew so little about him, yet you were about to have his cock inside you.

You quickly peeled off your dress, watching his reaction as you tossed it aside. You loved how he looked at you. As if you were the only woman in the world, his gaze filled with admiration.

"I like it when you watch me," you admitted softly.

"I'd rather have my hands on you." He replied, running his palm along your thighs, his fingers trailing dangerously high, stopping just short of where you needed him.

You let out a quiet moan, and he chuckled at your response, moving his hands under your hips and picking you up, placing you underneath him on the bed. You watched as he slid his belt from its loops, tossing it onto the floor.

"Can you keep the rest on for now?" you asked, your voice quieter than intended. "You look so good in a suit.”

"As you wish." He grinned as he unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection, and your heart fluttered. He reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom.

"No," you protested, your brain-to-mouth filter long gone. "I want to feel you."

The moment the words left your lips, you knew you had gone too far. The two of you never talked about this. Hell, you didn't even know if he wanted kids. Or had kids. Or birth control. Or anything personal at all. Yet, there was a part of you that didn't care. A reckless, desperate part that wanted to feel him come inside you, to take whatever piece of him he was willing to give.

He studied your face, and you were certain he would tell you no. Any reasonable man would. But then, he dropped the condom and kissed you, a slow, lingering kiss that made you squirm.

"If that's what you want." He murmured, pulling you even closer.

You nodded, clinging to him. Your hips rose to meet him, and his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, as he slowly entered you.

This was such a bad idea. Having raw sex with a stranger. It was the kind of decision that would've gotten you a stern talking-to from your mother. And yet, you'd never been so turned on in your life.

He moved inside you, a languid roll of his hips, and a whimper escaped you. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer. You felt drunk, delirious, overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin against yours, his hard length filling you, stretching you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

It was different this way, more intense, the intimacy heightened. You suddenly regretted asking him to leave his suit on. You wanted more, the need for closeness clawing at your chest. You tugged on his shirt, until he took the hint, leaning back to shed it, his hips still moving, keeping a perfect, maddening, rhythm.

"You don't know what you want today, do you?" he said, his tone playful.

You always enjoyed a bit of dirty talk, but the sound of his voice now. Soothing and authoritative, the slightest edge of teasing… had your head spinning.

"Hush," you chided, trying to regain your composure.

He chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Tell me what you want."

You moaned, the warmth in your belly coiling tighter. The way he held your hands, steady and sure, felt too intimate, too personal. But you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

"Do you want me to go harder?" He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, curling into a teasing smile. "Deeper?"

You nodded, closing your eyes as he adjusted his angle, his cock hitting the spot that made your toes curl. You were close, and he seemed to sense it, his hips rocking into you harder, the bed creaking under his weight.

"Do you want me to come inside you?" he whispered, his voice rough, his words sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

It was a foolish, insane, stupid idea, but lord, did you want it. You wanted to feel his release, the heat of him filling you.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming.

"Yes," you breathed, "please."

The look in his eyes changed, as if a switch had flipped, the gentle teasing replaced by something deeper. It was the thing you were both trying to avoid, the emotion lurking just beneath the surface.

He let go of your hands, bracing himself on the mattress, his thrusts slowed, his pace deeper, drawing out the pleasure, the air between you charged, thick with anticipation.

"Say it again," he commanded.

"Please," you moaned. "I need-"

He silenced you with a kiss, your hands moving to his hips, clutching his ass, urging him deeper, faster.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his thrusts growing uneven.

"Please," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair, "come inside me."

A groan escaped him, and his body stilled, the feeling of him pulsing inside you making your whole body tense, a white-hot pleasure surging through you as you both came undone, clinging to each other as if the world would fall away without the other to anchor you.

He collapsed next to you, and you curled against him, resting your head on his chest, his heart beating fast and strong under your cheek.

You weren’t sure what this was, the two of you tangled together, basking in the afterglow. He wasn’t usually a cuddler. In fact, he’d never asked you to stay the night. Yet, here he was, running his fingers through your hair, his arms around you, holding you close.

You could hear the traffic outside, the bustle of the city. It felt surreal, as if you were watching yourself from above. The woman who’d begged him to come inside her, who craved his touch, wasn’t you. She was a stranger. A shadow of the person you pretended to be.

The thought sent a jolt through your chest, and you pulled away, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I should-”

“Stay,” he said softly, his hand trailing slowly down your back. His voice was quieter than you had ever heard it, almost hesitant, and the word stuck in your chest like a splinter.

Your eyes darted toward the door, the urge to flee overwhelming. What the hell were you thinking? Reckless. Stupid. You’d never planned for this to go so far, to feel so real. Yet, when his hand slid down your back, the warmth of his touch anchored you, quieting the chaos in your mind.

You found yourself nodding, cuddling back against his chest, as if the heat of his embrace could fix everything.

“Just for a little while,” you said, trying to quiet the voice in your head.

“Mmm,” he murmured, and you could feel him smiling against your hair.

The sun had set, the sky turning a dusky purple, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the buildings below. And the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe, content, and hopelessly in love.

The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. Elijah lay beside you, his features softened in sleep, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

You had been watching him for a while, a bit of a creepy thing to do, but he was just so handsome, even with his hair disheveled. You let your mind wander, imagining him being yours, waking up next to him every day, sharing meals and adventures. You wondered what his favorite color was, if he liked cats, his thoughts on politics. All those small details that would help bring him to life.

You also wondered what his life was like, who his family was. Maybe he was married? Cheating on his wife with you? The thought was a cold splash of reality. Of course, he was probably married. A man like him would never be single.

You sighed, running your fingers through his hair. This was such a mistake. You didn't know a damn thing about him, yet, here you were, fantasizing about a future together.

Carefully, you slipped out from under his arm, your heart aching with every movement. You dressed in silence, the weight of what you were about to do pressing down on you. Standing at the door, you glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to whisper the truth, that he was like something out of a dream. But you couldn’t. Because dreams didn't last. They didn't have roots. And you had a life to get back to.

So, instead, you turned and walked out the door, not letting yourself look back.

The New Orleans heat was relentless, thick with humidity, wrapping around you like a second skin. The streets buzzed with music and conversation, and even after months of living here, the city's energy still caught you off guard. It was a stark contrast to Europe, where everything felt steeped in quiet history. Here, everything moved fast. Loud, unpredictable, alive.

You had built a life here, found a job you actually enjoyed, and for the first time in a long time, things felt normal. A fresh start. And yet, no matter how far you ran, how many new routines you built, the ghost of the mysterious Elijah  still lurked in the quiet moments. Not often. Not intentionally. But in the space between thoughts, his presence would slip in. His hands, his voice, the way he had looked at you…

You didn’t dwell on it…

Or at least, you told yourself you didn’t…

Instead, you threw yourself into your new life. And a big part of that life was Klaus.

Not in a romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet way. That would be a disaster, and you knew better. Klaus wasn’t a boyfriend, he was more of… a friendly force in your life. Someone you got drinks with, argued with, occasionally rolled around in bed with. He was charming in a way that made people want to orbit around him, and somehow, you had ended up in that orbit.

You met him at an art gallery downtown, where he had been swirling a glass of red wine and smirking at a particularly ugly modern piece like it had personally offended him. You had made some offhanded joke about abstract art being a scam, and he had laughed, a sharp, knowing laugh, like he was having the exact same thought.

After that, he had a way of showing up. Inviting you out, dragging you into conversations about history and art over whiskey, introducing you to the chaotic energy of the city’s nightlife. You got along. He was fun. He had a mean streak, but you knew how to handle men like that. It was easy.

And maybe, if things were different, you would’ve let something more happen between you. But you both understood what this was…Just company, just passing time. Just a friendly hookup until real love came along… If it ever did.

The soft breeze drifting through the open window did little to cool the heavy heat of the room. The sheets were a tangled mess, kicked aside during the night’s events, and beside you, Klaus lay sprawled out, one arm thrown over his face, his body lazy and sated.

You stretched, the slow ache between your thighs a familiar, satisfying reminder of last night. It hadn’t been anything deep or meaningful, just fun. Easy. No expectations, no promises.

Klaus was good company, someone who understood the unspoken rules of this arrangement: pleasure, no strings. He was charming, sure. Attractive, obviously. But you both knew what this was.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he stirred, his hand sliding absently across your stomach. “Mmm, already awake?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Fortunately, for you,” You smirked, shifting to straddle his hips, your palms pressing against his chest.

He grinned, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Eager thing, aren’t you?”

“Only because you’re so damn easy.” You dragged your nails lightly down his torso, reveling in the way he tensed beneath you.

Klaus chuckled, but it turned into a low groan as you rocked against him, teasing. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to let you know he enjoyed it.

“If you’re going to keep teasing, love,” he murmured, voice rough, “you better be prepared to finish what you started.”

“I always finish what I start.” You reached for the bedside drawer, rolling on a condom before sinking down onto him, the feeling of your bodies connecting making you both exhale.

The rhythm was familiar, something you both knew well by now. You took what you needed, moved together in a way that was more about chasing pleasure than anything sentimental. Klaus let you take control, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding your movements but never demanding.

It was good. The kind of effortless chemistry that kept you coming back to him.

But then. It happened.

One second, it was Klaus beneath you, his sharp smirk, his blue eyes watching you with hunger.

And then. The stranger that you couldn't get out of your mind. Elijah.

His face flickered into focus like a mirage, his dark eyes holding you in that way that had once made your breath catch.

You froze, a jolt of panic hitting your system like ice water.

No. No.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you blinked hard, trying to shake it. When you opened your eyes again. Klaus. Just Klaus. Watching you with mild confusion.

"Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

"N-no."

"Are you sure? We don't have to keep going if-"

"No. Just give me a minute," you said, swallowing the knot in your throat, your mind scrambling.

This had never happened before. Never. But there it was. An image of him burned into your memory, overlaying Klaus, taking the place of your reality.

Klaus halted your hips and sat up, his brows knitting with concern. "You're trembling."

"Sorry." You shook your head, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like your whole world was shattering. "Just... got distracted."

"By?" He was giving you a look, somewhere between concerned and amused, his curiosity obvious.

You sighed. He was going to push this.

"Promise you won't get weird about it?"

"Of course not, love."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Someone else."

Klaus chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Don't tell me, the thought of me alone isn't enough to satisfy? That will hurt my ego."

"Don't be ridiculous." You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to squirm. "It's not about you. It's... an old fling."

"Oh?" His expression shifted, his tone more serious.

"Yeah, someone from when I was traveling. Just... popped into my head, that's all." You shrugged, a feeble attempt to make it seem unimportant.

"I see," He studied your face, his gaze unnervingly steady.

You braced for him to ask more questions, maybe to get jealous or offended, but instead, he flipped you onto your back, a wicked grin on his face.

"I guess I must not be doing my job correctly," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the spot on your neck that always made your toes curl. "I think we can remedy that."

He was a bit rougher with you this time, a bit less playful, his movements filled with a purpose. Like a challenge. He wanted to keep your mind from wandering. And, hell, it worked for a while. The way he was kissing you, moving inside you, touching you, it was so intense. So present.

You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair, and he pulled away, his gaze searching.

"Is that good?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Very."

His hips picked up their pace, his lips hot on your skin, the tension building inside you with each thrust.

You came undone, Klaus following not long after, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, his breathing ragged.

"Still thinking about that old fling?"

You chuckled, swatting his shoulder. "Shut up. Don't be jealous,"

"Me? Never."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. "I need to get ready for work,"

Klaus shrugged, rolling out of bed, stretching, and pulling on his clothes. You watched him, the way he moved, the confidence he exuded.

He was handsome, of course. He was the kind of guy you'd notice immediately, his features chiseled and striking, the perfect amount of scruff. But it wasn't just that. There was something else. A certain... charisma. A presence that made you feel as if he could command a room, the whole city, without even trying.

"Are you coming out tonight?"

"Hmm?" You blinked, his question catching you off guard.

"Tonight, to the dinner party." He cocked his head, looking at you expectantly. "Unless, of course, you've decided to spend your evening pining after someone who isn't here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic, love."

You laughed, swatting his arm. "Stop, you know I'm going. I'm actually looking forward to meeting your siblings, mostly to get dirt on you."

"That's a dangerous game, darling." He smirked, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "But, if it makes you happy, I'll see you tonight."

"See you."

He gave you one last grin, the door clicking softly as he left.

You flopped back against the pillows, letting out a shaky breath. Trying to erase a specific pair of haunting brown eyes from your memory. You weren't the type to be hung up on anyone, especially a stranger you hooked up with months ago. Yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute idiot.

You shook your head, getting out of bed, ignoring the way your legs trembled.

This was stupid. A minor setback.

You would move on.

You had to move on.

Right?

You knew Klaus was rich. But you were aware just how insanely wealthy he truly was. It was something that should've been obvious, considering the way Klaus threw around his money, but seeing his ridiculously lavish compound in person was a completely different experience.

The place was huge, sprawling, elegant in a way that only an ancient estate could be. The architecture was stunning, and you were fairly certain the entry hall alone was the size of your apartment.

"You live here?" You glanced over at Klaus, taking in his nonchalant expression.

He nodded, "It's not too shabby, is it?"

You laughed, "Not too shabby? This is insane."

You took in the artwork hanging on the walls, the ornate furniture, and the grand staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. It was the kind of place people only saw on tv. You felt underdressed, almost as if you had stepped into some kind of dream.

"Come, the food is almost ready, and I want to introduce you to my family."

Klaus led you through the winding halls and corridors, until you finally reached a large dining room. There was a massive table, laden with food, and sitting around it were a dozen or so people, chatting and laughing.

Klaus cleared his throat, catching the attention of the room. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my... friend."

A chorus of greetings echoed through the room, and Klaus gestured to a particularly attractive group sitting at the far end of the table.

"These are my siblings, Rebekah, Kol, and Elijah."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as they turned to face you.

It was him.

The man you had been trying so hard to forget, the one whose presence had taken over your life. The same dark eyes, the same gentle smile, the same strong, capable hands. Those hands.

The memories hit you in a dizzying wave. The feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, memorizing every detail.

Elijah was a ghost. A shadow. Someone you would never see again.

Until now.

His face paled, his expression mirroring your own shock. The two of you stood there, staring at each other, the rest of the room falling away.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind reeling. How? How the fuck was he here? Was this a dream? Some cruel joke the universe was playing?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unable to find the words.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier and heavier, until Klaus finally cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

"Sit, please. I have more guests coming soon."

You sank into a chair next to you Elijah, your hands visibly trembling. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

Klaus walked away to greet some more guests, leaving you with his siblings. You snuck a glance at Elijah, taking in his stiff posture, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. You couldn't bear it, the weight of the silence, the way his presence was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Y/n, that's a lovely name. How did you meet our brother?" Rebekah asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

You blinked, struggling to compose yourself. "We met at a gallery. I was, um, critiquing some of the art, and he agreed."

Rebekah chuckled, "Sounds like Klaus."

Elijah remained silent, his expression unreadable. Rebekah gave him a strange look, then turned her attention back to you.

"How long have the two of you been together?" she asked.

"Oh, we're not. Together. We're just friends." You managed a small laugh, trying to hide the panic in your voice.

"Klaus? Friends? Impossible," Kol interjected, his tone teasing.

"Well, we're friendly," you said, avoiding the subject entirely.

A waiter came by and filled your wine glass, and you thanked him, downing half the glass in one go. The alcohol was a welcome distraction, burning a warm path down your throat.

"How are you liking New Orleans?" Rebekah asked, her tone a little more casual.

"It's amazing, honestly. The energy here is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The people, the music, the history." You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. "I can see why people fall in love with this city."

Rebekah smiled, "It does have its charms."

Klaus returned, settling into his seat beside you, his hand resting on the back of your chair.

"So, what have you been discussing?"

"Oh, just the usual. How we're all shocked you've found a friend," Kol said.

Klaus snorted, "Hardly. I have plenty of friends."

"Yes, but they're not usually women," Kol retorted.

"That's not true Kol, he also has Cami," Rebekah chimed in.

Klaus removed his hand from the back of your chair, his cheeks growing slightly pink. He looked down, busying himself with filling his plate, his posture defensive.

Kol let out a laugh and pointed down to the other end of the table. "What's wrong Nik, don't want her to hear?"

You followed his gaze, landing on a pretty blonde who was chatting animatedly with some of the other guests.

"You didn't tell us Camille was coming," Rebekah said.

"It didn't seem important," Klaus muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

You had no idea who this girl was, but clearly, Klaus had a thing for her. You could practically feel the awkward tension radiating off him.

He was sweet, but a little rough around the edges. It made sense that he'd be a bit of a mess when it came to his love life.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

"She's beautiful," you said sincerely, nudging him playfully.

Klaus sighed, finally meeting your gaze. "You think?"

"Definitely." You paused, watching his face soften a little. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Klaus shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You're not supposed to encourage me, love."

"Why not? Isn't that what friends do?" You grinned.

His eyes narrowed, his expression playful as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "If I'm with her I'm not with you. Where would that leave us, hmm?"

Before you could respond, Elijah abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me."

All of you watched him walk out of the room, his sudden departure startling everyone.

"Is he alright?" Rebekah asked, her tone worried.

Kol shrugged. "He's been in a mood lately."

"You know how fussy he can get about dinner parties," Klaus said, his tone dismissive.

The rest of the dinner was a blur. You tried your best to engage in conversation, but the weight of Elijah's presence was suffocating, drowning out the noise. He had returned halfway through the meal, his expression stony, his movements stiff and calculated. He didn't look at you, not once, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense, every time he thought no one was paying attention.

Klaus had taken your advice and made a point to speak with Cami, his body language betraying how flustered he was. He was trying so hard, and it was equal parts amusing and heartwarming.

It was almost enough to distract you from the fact that Elijah was in the same room.

Almost.

As the meal came to an end, the crowd started to thin, people milling about the room, talking and laughing.

Klaus was engrossed in conversation with Cami, his eyes never leaving her face. You smiled to yourself, happy to see him making progress.

You scanned the room, noticing that Elijah was nowhere in sight. Without thinking, you excused yourself, walking through the grand hallways, searching.

You didn't know what you were looking for, or why. But the thought of him being so close, yet out of reach, was too much to bear.

The house was enormous, and as you wandered the hallways, you realized just how impossible it would be to find him. You went up a few floors, finding rooms filled with more art, more artifacts, more history. It was mesmerizing, a window into a world you had never experienced.

Finally, you reached a hallway lined with bedrooms, each one as opulent as the last. You were about to turn around and head back downstairs when a door opened, and Elijah stepped out, freezing as soon as he saw you.

A long silence stretched between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

He was even more handsome than you remembered, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his face flushed. He looked upset, his jaw clenched, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run. To flee and never look back. But you couldn't. Something in his expression kept you rooted in place.

"Hi," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello," he replied, his voice smooth, but laced with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"I'm, um, sorry to bother you. I was just... looking for the bathroom." You winced, realizing how flimsy the excuse was.

"Right." His eyes searched your face, his brow furrowing.

"Sorry," you repeated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"There's no need to apologize," he said, his expression softening a little. "I'm sure this is all... unexpected."

"Yeah, it is," you breathed.

Another tense silence passed between the two of you. Elijah looked conflicted, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "We didn't exactly do a lot of talking about our personal lives,"

Your face burned. "Right, yeah. Sorry, I wasn't... trying to accuse you of anything," you stammered.

Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I'm sorry… That was a poor choice of words."

You nodded, chewing on your lip. The two of you were both obviously uncomfortable.

"Look, I... I don't know what to say, really. This is... weird. Like, insanely weird," you said.

Elijah laughed, a sound that was a mix of relief and nervousness. "Agreed."

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "I... honestly didn't think I would ever see you again."

"I didn't either."

"And now..."

"And now."

You hesitated, your heart thumping in your chest as you took a tentative step forward. "What are the odds, huh?"

"Quite low, I imagine."

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "I guess the universe had other plans."

Elijah's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his mask. He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to.

Instead he took a deep breath, his voice softer, gentler, "I'm glad you're doing well,"

"You too," you managed, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to close the distance between the two of you.

"I should probably get back," you said, not really wanting to.

"Of course," he murmured, not moving away from you, his gaze intense.

You lingered for a moment, neither of you willing to break eye contact. It was strange, surreal. A feeling you couldn't put into words. It pulled you in, and before you knew it, you were moving towards him, drawn by some invisible force.

His hand came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, soft, but urgent, and you melted into him, the familiarity of his touch making your heart ache.

You weren't sure how long you stood there, kissing him, holding him, your hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed against yours. It was like no time had passed, the two of you falling back into the same pattern, the same rhythm.

He guided you backwards until you hit a side table, your back pressing against the polished wood. He lifted you, his lips never leaving yours as he sat you on the edge, his body caging you in.

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up, his eyes darkening as his fingers brushed the lace of your underwear.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands grasping the front of his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," he murmured, kissing down your neck.

"Me neither," you admitted, a small moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

He lifted your thighs, planting your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your legs wide, his hips pressed flush against yours.

You could feel the hardness of him, the proof of his desire for you, and it sent a wave of heat straight through your core.

You wanted him. Badly. More than you could ever remember wanting anything.

"We shouldn't do this here," you breathed, his lips tracing the shell of your ear.

"I don't care," he whispered, his fingers tugging at the hem of your dress, sliding the fabric up to your hips.

"Someone might see."

"Good," he said softly, his lips curling into a smirk, just inches from yours. "Let them see."

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers found the wetness between your legs, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing you. He slowly circled your clit, drawing lazy patterns, his gaze fixed on your face, taking in every detail, every reaction.

You tugged on his shirt, trying to anchor yourself, to keep from getting swept away. Your heart was hammering, the heat building in your core, the anticipation making you dizzy.

He pushed a finger inside you, then another, his movements firm and steady, his thumb circling your clit. He was taking his time, drawing it out, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze filled with something raw and intense.

It was that same feeling as before, the one that made you do things you wouldn't normally do. The one that made you feel alive.

Your legs trembled, your body trembling as he brought you to the edge, only to pull back. His fingers teased your entrance, before sinking deep inside you, curling and hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," you gasped, gripping his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on.

He grinned and moved to his knees, his eyes locking on yours, and it was almost too much. The sight of him, kneeling before you, his dark gaze burning into yours, his fingers still buried inside you.

He pulled his fingers from your core, the emptiness almost unbearable, and his tongue flicked over your clit. You cried out, a strangled, broken sound, and he chuckled, the vibrations making your toes curl.

He licked and sucked and teased, his movements perfectly measured, knowing exactly what to do, where to touch. He devoured you, his lips and tongue working in tandem, his fingers sinking back into you, stretching you open, filling you.

You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building, your legs shaking, your fingers tangled in his hair. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and hunger, and it was all too much.

You came, your vision whiting out, his name a strangled cry on your lips. He kept going, working you through the aftershocks, his touch gentle, coaxing, until finally, he stopped, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

He stood, and you caught a glimpse of the bulge straining against his trousers, before he leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you felt the loss of his touch acutely, the emptiness inside you almost unbearable. You reached for him, fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him, to have him inside you.

"I can't believe we are doing this," you muttered, laughing nervously as his zipper came down. "Again," you added, the word barely a whisper.

"Neither can I," he admitted, a small, wry smile on his lips.

"This is insane."

"I'm well aware."

You slipped your hand inside his trousers, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. He let out a soft groan, his hips pressing against yours, his body urging you on.

"Don't get me pregnant," you half joked, your voice a strained whisper.

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek.

"I won't."

You tugged at his trousers, pulling them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly, the velvety skin sliding under your palm.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, his lips brushing yours.

"Do it," you breathed, the need coursing through your veins.

He thrust forward, filling you completely, his fingers digging into your thighs. You moaned, the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, consuming you.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, trying not to cause the table to creak and rock. It was sensual and maddening, the feeling of his cock easing in and out of you, his breathing ragged, his hands holding onto you for dear life.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tightening around him, drawing him in, trying to keep him there. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips grazing your jaw, his hips snapping into yours, harder and faster, the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding echoing through the empty hall.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and labored, his hands moving down your back and under your ass, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, your eyes squeezed shut, your entire world focused on the feel of him inside you.

It was like nothing else mattered, nothing existed except the two of you, joined together in the most intimate way.

He held you, his movements growing more frantic, his thrusts uneven and jerky, and you could feel him coming apart. He bit down on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled his release.

The two of you stayed like that, awkwardly settled on the table, trying to catch your breath, to come down from the high.

After a moment, he straightened, tucking himself back into his trousers and running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed.

"That was..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Intense," you offered, as he helped you stand.

"Indeed," he murmured, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

He pulled you in for another kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, his lips soft and warm. You melted into him, losing yourself in the feeling of his body against yours.

After a long moment, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher. He cleared his throat, the moment breaking, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.

"Well, I should... um, get back," you said, the words hanging in the air, awkward and stilted. "Before anyone notices we're gone,"

"No need, we all heard you two," Klaus' voice echoed through the hall, startling you both.

You turned to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you hastily fixed your dress, Elijah stepped in front of you, blocking the sight from his brother.

Klaus let out a laugh, "oh no need for all that Elijah, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" Elijah demanded, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Well, I was looking for my Y/n. You wandered off and then I heard these distressing sounds coming from the hallway. So naturally, I came to investigate," he paused, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "And here you are,"

"I, uh, got lost," you offered weakly, still a little stunned.

"In his pants?" Klaus smirked, his gaze traveling between the two of you.

You were speechless, not quite sure what to say. It was humiliating, being caught like this, exposed and vulnerable. There were clearly a lot of complicated feelings between the two of them, things that had nothing to do with you.

Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist, it surprised you, the way he pulled you against him, as if he was claiming you. You glanced up at him, the look on his face unreadable. He seemed unfazed by Klaus' accusation, his expression carefully neutral.

"If you must know, we ran into each other," Elijah said evenly, his hand stroking the small of your back. "We know each other from... Another city."

"Oh, really? How serendipitous," Klaus replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, it is," Elijah said simply, his posture relaxed.

Klaus shook his head, his eyes darting between the two of you, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Wait... That hook-up you were telling me about? The old fling you couldn't get out of your head? That's... Elijah?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning so hot they could melt ice.

Klaus began to laugh, a deep, genuine belly laugh. He wiped at his eyes, his whole body shaking with amusement. "This is too much. This is... I don't even know what to say."

Elijah sighed, his jaw clenched, but his eyes amused. "I would prefer it if you didn't say anything."

"Oh, come on, this is funny," Klaus said, taking a step closer. "You're the reason she was all hung up and miserable,"

"Miserable?" Elijah frowned, glancing down at you.

"Klaus, stop," you pleaded, the humiliation making your chest ache.

"What?" He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts. You were a mess because of him."

Elijah's eyes searched yours, his expression conflicted. His hand was still on the small of your back, and he rubbed it in small, soothing circles.

"Niklaus, if you don't mind, I wish to have a private conversation with her," Elijah said, his tone firm.

"Alright, fine, but do try to keep it down, hmm? We have guests," Klaus winked at the two of you, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

You watched him walk away, then you leaned up and kissed Elijah on the cheek. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded, his gaze following you as you walked down the hallway after Klaus.

"Nik!" You called, catching up to him.

"Yes, love?"

"Look, I'm sorry," you said, trying to gauge his reaction.

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused.

"For... sleeping with Elijah," you said, a little unsure.

Klaus laughed, his expression light and teasing. "We were never going to work out, love. Our hearts belong to others,"

"I know," you shrugged. “But still... He's your brother,"

"And you love him," Klaus said simply, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"What? No, I... I don't even know him, not really," you protested.

"You will, and he'll love you, too," Klaus said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"It doesn't matter. It was just... sex," you tried to explain.

"Was it, though?"

"Yes," you insisted, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head, the one that knew he was right.

Klaus shook his head, his gaze softening a little. He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

"Listen, it's none of my business. But if there's something between the two of you, some spark or whatever... Don't let it go. Life's too short for regrets,"

You pulled back, looking up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Nik,"

"Of course," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "And do try to be a bit more discreet, hmm? You two aren't exactly quiet."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll try."

He laughed, and then headed back downstairs to rejoin the party. Off to find Cami, no doubt.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to Elijah, his eyes fixed on you, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

You reached out, taking his hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and he led you to his room, the door closing softly behind the two of you.

You stood in the middle of his bedroom, the air thick with tension, everything was happening so fast.

"So," he began, his voice low and soft.

"So," you echoed, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Elijah exhaled, slow and measured, but there was no hiding the tension in his posture. “Are you going to run again?”

The question hung between you, weighted with more than just tonight.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You owed him the truth.

“Elijah…” You took a step closer, your voice unsteady. “I ran because I was scared.”

His jaw clenched slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you speak.

“I told myself that what we had was casual. That it didn’t mean anything. But then you started looking at me like I was something more.” Your throat tightened. “Like I mattered. And that scared the hell out of me.”

His expression softened, just a fraction, but his silence pressed against you like a weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep going. “I didn’t know how to handle the way you made me feel.” Your voice was quieter now, raw. “I thought if I ran, I could outrun it. But I didn’t. I never did. Because no matter where I went, no matter what I did, you were always there.”

A beat passed. Then two. And then his hand was cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“And now?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And now…” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m standing here. With you. And I don’t want to run anymore.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. “Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It was a promise, a commitment, a declaration of everything you’d both been too afraid to say.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not just tonight. Always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Always,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet, the familiar taste of him flooding your senses. He was everything you'd been missing, everything you'd needed. There was so much more left to say, but it would have to wait. In this moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together, a promise of something more. This was where you were meant to be, you were sure of it.

~Epilogue

The first thing you registered was warmth. The kind that seeped into your bones, wrapped around you like a quiet reassurance. You stirred, blinking against the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The sheets were tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the fabric.

Elijah's arm was draped over your waist, his breathing deep and steady against the back of your neck. The weight of him, the solid presence at your side, was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t realized how much you missed waking up with someone... not just anyone, but him.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because this felt… real. Permanent.

And for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t terrify you.

You shifted slightly, your fingers ghosting over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. He stirred behind you, his grip instinctively tightening, pulling you closer.

“Second thoughts?” His voice was husky with sleep, laced with quiet amusement.

You smiled, a warm flush spreading through you.

"Not a single one," you murmured, turning in his arms, your gaze meeting his.

"Good," he murmured, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him.

It felt... Right. Like you'd always belonged here, in his bed, his arms. Like he'd always been the one, waiting for you.

There was no more running.

No more fear.

Just this.

Just him.

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If you are still taking in requests, I thought I'd just leave this here. Could you potentially do a Hannibal Lecter x reader one-shot/headcanons (it's up to you) where they used to be lovers. But when the reader caught wind of Hannibal not exactly being a normal, she practically dissappeared from his life entirely. Now, years later, he sees the reader in Baltimore at an art gallery or something (idk maybe the reader is an artist herself or just a guest?) And it just re-sparks some sort of deep longing (yandere vibes???) within Hannibal.

Just a thought.

♡: i love this idea, its fr gonna awaken the poet in me. i hope u like it and it was up to your expectations (fear of disappointing ppl goes hard)

An ache for art

YANDERE HANNIBAL HEADCANON

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Artist!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Yandere hannibal, mentions of kidnapping, forced (?) kissing, persistant hannibal, not much, only obsessed hannibal who wants his woman back

SYNOPSIS: When you abandoned Hannibal Lecter, he searched for answers everywhere in his desperation for you. Oblivious to the fact that you'd caught onto the abnormalities of the man. Years later at an art gallery, Hannibal finds solace in the painings presented before you and when he finds out you're the creator, a spark is once again lightened.

An art gallery in Baltimore was the last destination of all places in the world where Hannibal expected to find you.

When he'd asked to see the artist that had performed such a spectacular job at capturing human longing — akin to his, under the stroke of a brush, he didn't expect it to be you.

And you surely didn't expect to meet him. Yet here you were, nervousness heaving on you like cemented blocks.

You'd abandoned him under the fear that you might become his next victim. A voice inside you prevented you from informing the authorities but your morals could not allow you to stay with a man like him.

Especially after realizing he must've fed you human remains, on one of his special dinner nights. Torn between your love for him and the need to escape, you never looked back.

Hannibal tried searching for you, everywhere. He thought you two were soulmates, meant to be forever. You'd climbed the walls that he had always kept higher and higher.

Just why did you leave then? Had he done something so severe that you had to disappear from his life? Leaving your job behind, your life behind in Florence and never appearing in front of him ever again.

“Hannibal.” Your voice a whisper. He could taste the way his name unfurled on your tongue.

For a man that in complete control of his emotions and what he felt, he couldn't contain his excitement and happiness upon at the sight of you.

Hannibal stepped closer to you, a smile causing the wrinkles to appear. The same wrinkles you once used to adore.

“Beautiful art, I must say.”

You nodded, accepting his compliment, a small smile on your lips. You felt no discomfort or resentment in his presence. Only thing left were the beautiful memories of a healthy relationship.

The rest of the evening was spent together. You showed him around the gallery, explaining subtle details of your art to him albeit that wasn't necessary as Hannibal read right through your gentle brush strokes.

Though he was more interested in the art that strolled alongside him. A beautiful sight in her glory, flourishing once more like the petals of a sunflower.

Hannibal had an ache. An ache to consume art but you were the type of art he felt full just by catching sight of. He couldn't satiate these cravings you'd left him with.

After your departure, Hannibal killed and he killed. Yet no one could even compare to what you made him feel.

You were responsible for the deaths of multiple innocents, because you chose to leave him with an ache. Hannibal wondered how you'd feel if you were to find out.

He wished for the time to stop. That everything would come to a halt and you'd stay frozen right before his gaze.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run to. Only available to him, only before his very eyes.

If it came down to it, Hannibal would not shy away from denying you of your freedom.

As you both reached a secluded corner in the gallery, the tension like a pendulum hung in the air above your heads.

Unanswered questions probed at Hannibal from within. He needed to know why you'd left — just what had scared you away to the point of no return?

Somewhere he knew. Deep in his heart, he was aware that this abrupt abandonment had everything to do with his own sickly desires.

“Why?”

You knew it was coming and it did. You couldn't tell him you knew about his little murder sprees or how he fed you human flesh.

You tried to walk away from the suffocating conversation but Hannibal couldn't allow that. Hand grasping around your arm, his tight prevention scaring you.

“Hannib—”

“I won't let you leave this time.” He longed for you, he never stopped to begin with. Everyday he'd come to his house and find it empty, it felt like needles prickled his chest.

He missed you roaming the premises of his humble abode, dressed in one of his button downs. Casting a meaningful light over the painted walls and furniture.

His grip was tight. You saw the sheer determination so instead of causing a scene, it was best to continue the conversation someplace better.

Like a coffee shop.

Sitting before him with a cup of coffee in your hand, you stared at him. Hannibal was never fond of such small cafes on the roadside — he preferred lavish and rich restaurants.

“I know, Hannibal.”

That was all he needed to know that you were well aware. His face falling but there was no expression on his face at all. Like he'd expected this.

“Was it that easy to abandon me?”

A stinging sensation spread in your chest at his sorrow filled question. Of course it wasn't easy. You'd spent a whole year in complete isolation after parting from him.

Hannibal caught onto the painful expression, akin to his. He wished that he was different too, more like you and not the cannibalistic murderer he was.

But some instincts could not be controlled.

“Come back to me.”

You could not. To step all over your moral conscience required strong will which you did not possess.

“I can't. It will never work, Hannibal.”

Hannibal noticed the reluctance in your gaze, his own darkening. Plans to keep you by his side already forming in his cunning mind.

There was no limit he wouldn't cross for you. Whether it was manipulating you back into his life or kidnapping you, he didn't want to back out.

You picked up your bag and after sparing him one last glance, left the cafe. Bells ringing against his ears, notifying him of your exit.

Hannibal was in disarray. He needed to have you, he had to have you. There was no way he could sit idle and watch you leave him.

So he followed you, pressing you up against your car. Lips working hastily to captivate yours, as he fought the string of dark emotions inside him.

You almost melted.

Him being the only man that could make you feel like this. A bittersweet kiss which acted as the closure you never received from him.

Hannibal’s frame locked you in, his hands roaming down to your waist. He kissed you with vigor, with profound strength like you could disappear at any given moment.

Your hands stayed by your sides, lacking the courage to slither them across his nape.

The kiss heated – his lips sucking yours and then he attempted to enter your mouth. You didn't let him. Persistent you were.

Hannibal pulled back from the kiss and breathed against your lips.

You soon realized what you were doing, in who you were investing and you pushed him off you.

Hannibal loved the feeling of your small hands over his chest. The way you still tasted the same even after years had passed.

“Don't ever come in front of me again.”

He didn't like the venom in your tone and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go like before.

Hannibal watched you leave in your car and sighed, his fingertips running along his own lips. Remnants of your saliva bringing him to the brink of insanity.

He would do anything to have you.

And if that meant going against your will, so be it.

[wonderlanddreamer]

Reader POV Masterlist

Main Lydia Masterlist

Edits, Drabbles & More

Multi-Chapter Fics.

Queen Of Kings - Nellie Ensor never expected to return to Small Heath, but fate had other plans. After her father's brutal murder at the hands of a ruthless gang, Nellie inherits the family business—a prize many would kill for. Torn between selling it off for safety and honouring her father's legacy, Nellie decides to stand her ground. Navigating a world steeped in danger, she finds herself entangled with the notorious Peaky Blinders. As threats loom and loyalties are tested, Nellie must find courage to protect her father's dream and carve out a place for herself in a world where survival is never guaranteed. In the heart of Birmingham, amidst the smoke and shadows, a legacy is about to be reborn.

Behind Enemy Lines - Fearless journalist Florence Fletcher is on a mission to expose the Peaky Blinders, but her relentless pursuit pits her against the dangerous and captivating John Shelby. When a greater threat looms, they must join forces, turning enemies into uneasy allies. Amidst the chaos and intrigue, sparks fly and forbidden passion ignites. Can they survive the shadows of Birmingham's underworld and find love, or will their secrets destroy them?

Blurred Lines - Florence Fletcher has always been a thorn in John Shelby's side, but when he finds her drunk and vulnerable on a night out, his protective instincts take over. As he steps in to help her, the hard edges of their contentious relationship start to blur, uncovering unexpected depths and hidden feelings.

[A modern spin-off of Behind Enemy Lines]

The Rook - Seeking refuge from his turbulent life, Tommy Shelby finds solace in The Rook, a quiet pub on Birmingham's outskirts. There, he meets Rosemary King, a barmaid whose sunny disposition offers him an unexpected sanctuary. Her kindness and warmth begin to thaw his hardened heart, creating a bond that takes the gangster by surprise. But peace is short-lived when Tommy's enemies track him to his hidden refuge, putting both The Rook and Rosemary in jeopardy. As danger looms, they must navigate the threats together, testing the strength of their growing connection. Can Tommy protect his newfound sanctuary, or will his criminal life shatter the fragile peace he's found?

[luvleyshif4]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Girl with One Eye 𓁹

Synopsis: In a town shrouded in whispers and shadows, Alastor’s love is both a curse and a sanctuary. Obsessed with the innocent girl he claims as his own, his affection is a dangerous blend of possessiveness and madness. She, a once free spirit, finds herself ensnared in his dark embrace, her world shrinking as his control tightens.

Warnings: Yandere Alastor!!, obsessive tendencies, stalking, mental abuse, emotional abuse(?), depression tendencies, mentions of murder, mentions of psychotic tendencies, stockholm syndrome

A/N: Hello Hello, i’m crawling out of my seasonal depression to write this because it was nagging at me. i’m still proofreading two chapters for infernal shadows, but the taglist is so long i might just have to make separate posts for that lol, but thank you all so much for the support on the story, i genuinely love that you guys are still reading it even if it is months old! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Listen to: Girl with one eye by Florence + the Machine while reading !!

Masterlist!! // Navigation!!

She was his perfect picture of innocence, her laughter like the soft tinkling of bells in the silent night. But Alastor, with his devilish grin and eyes that held a thousand secrets, saw something else in her. To him, she was a treasure, a prize to be kept and guarded, even if it meant locking her away from the world.

He watched her from the shadows, his obsession growing with each passing day. The world was a dangerous place, he convinced himself, that only he could protect her. His love was a consuming forest fire, burning away any rational thought, leaving only the primal need to possess.

She tried to resist at first, her defiance a spark in the darkness. But Alastor's patience was infinite, his methods meticulous. He knew how to break her, to bend her will to his. The nights were long, filled with whispered promises and threats, the lines between love and madness blurring until they were indistinguishable.

Her eyes, once bright with hope and dreams, now held a haunted look. She was his, utterly and completely, but at what cost? Alastor's love was a cage, beautiful and gilded, but a cage nonetheless. She sang sweet songs to herself, a desperate attempt to remember who she once was, but the melody always carried a note of sorrow.

She was left with nothing but her memories, fragments of a life she could no longer touch. Alastor's presence was a constant reminder of her captivity, his love a dark shadow that loomed over her every moment. She was seeing only the world he allowed her to see, trapped in a love that was as destructive as it was consuming.

Alastor's love for her was like a poison, seeping into every crevice of her life. He showered her with gifts, each one a symbol of his twisted devotion. Flowers that seemed to bloom only in his presence, jewelry that sparkled like the madness in his eyes, and clothes that he chose, wrapping her in his dark affections. His love was suffocating, a constant presence that left her breathless and on edge.

He spoke to her in a voice as smooth as velvet, each word laced with a hidden menace.

"You are mine,"

he would say, his fingers tracing the curve of her face with a possessiveness that sent shivers down her spine.

"No one else will ever have you. I will protect you from this cruel world."

His protection felt more like imprisonment, the walls of her life closing in around her.

Everywhere she turned, there he was, a dark figure watching, waiting. He knew her every move, her every thought, as if her mind was an open book for him to read. His obsession knew no bounds. He took pleasure in her fear, in the way her eyes darted nervously when she sensed him near her. It was a game to him, a dance of predator and prey, and he reveled in the control he held over her.

He would whisper sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"I love you more than life itself,"

he would croon, but his love was a twisted, distorted thing. It wasn't love; it was ownership, a claim that he had staked on her soul. He would caress her hair, his touch a mix of gentleness and danger, a reminder that her safety, her life, was entirely in his hands.

She became a prisoner in her own home, the locks and chains of his love binding her tighter with each passing day. He forbade her from seeing friends, from leaving the house without his permission. His jealousy was a living thing, almost its own being, coiled and ready to strike at any perceived threat to his dominion over her.

"They don't understand you like I do,"

he would say, his eyes dark with intensity.

"They can't love you the way I can."

The more she tried to pull away, the tighter his grip became. He would punish her disobedience with a cold, calculating precision, a reminder of who held the power. Yet, in his own twisted way, he believed he was doing it all for her, that his suffocating presence was a testament to his love. He couldn't see the damage he was causing, the way he was breaking her piece by piece.

Alastor's love was a dark fairy tale, a story of obsession and control. To him, she was the princess locked in the tower, and he the self-appointed guardian. But in truth, he was the dragon, and his love was the fire that consumed her. And so, she remained, a prisoner of his affection, the girl with one eye, seeing only the twisted love that bound her to him, forever trapped in Alastor's dark embrace.

One night, a suitor from her past made the mistake of trying to rekindle what had never truly been there. His advances were unwanted, his persistence unsettling. He cornered her in a dark alley, his words dripping with entitlement and anger when she rebuffed him. Fear and desperation gripped her as she struggled to push him away, his hands rough and invasive.

In that moment, her thoughts turned to Alastor. The man who had taken everything from her, yet the only one she could think to rely on. She knew what he was capable of, the lengths he would go to for her. Despite everything, a part of her found comfort in his possessiveness, a twisted sense of security in his dangerous love.

She fled to Alastor, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anger. He held her close, his touch both soothing and ominous. "Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice menacing. His hands didn’t shake holding her though, he fought his nerves to keep his composure. There were bruises and burn marks adorning her skin, and it bothered him to no end how the one time he did take his eyes off her, she was hurt.

She looked into his eyes, seeing the darkness within them, and for the first time, she didn't flinch. "I can’t say, but, Alastor I-“," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I want you to get rid of him… please"

A slow, sinister smile spread across Alastor's face. " Of course my dear" he said, his tone filled with a chilling certainty. He left her then, disappearing into the night like a specter of vengeance.

The next day, the news spread quickly. The suitor was found, a lifeless man, his body marked by the brutal handiwork of Alastor's wrath. The town whispered of the horrors inflicted upon him, the message clear to all: she was not to be touched.

As she read the reports, a twisted sense of satisfaction washed over her. She knew what she had done, what it meant. By asking Alastor to get rid of the suitor, she had accepted his dark love, embraced it in her own way. The fear was still there, but it was accompanied by a strange, sickening warmth.

Alastor returned, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous pride. He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. "You look ravishing dear" he said softly, his voice a blend of possessiveness and affection. " Thank you for being so patient."

She nodded, the weight of his words sinking into her soul. In his arms, she felt a perverse sense of safety, a dark comfort that she couldn't deny. She had become a part of his world, her own love twisted and corrupted by his influence.

In the end, she was the girl with one eye, not only seeing the world through the lens of his love but also accepting it, finding a dark solace in the madness they shared. Her heart was bound to his, a willing prisoner in the gilded cage of his obsession.

[dreamless-disco]

oh to be a teenager dancing in the living I share with my coolest cousin in the whole world

[gracie-eilish]

good luck, babe.

an: has anyone else heard that ai cover of billie singing this song? need a real version STAT. what an angel girl:)

The balcony was draped in the kind of quiet you could only find late at night, with stars scattered across the sky and a faint breeze carrying the scent of Billie’s vanilla candles. She had insisted on spending the evening out here, wrapped in blankets with a bottle of wine between the two of you, and you couldn’t think of a better place to be. Billie had always been your comfort person—your best friend since the two of you were little.

You took another sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through you. “Okay, but seriously, Billie,” you said, your voice teasing. “What is it with you and Florence Pugh? You’re obsessed.”

Billie smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Florence is a goddess, babe. Don’t act like you don’t see it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty. But you talk about her like she’s your dream girl.”

“Maybe she is,” Billie said, wiggling her brows. Then, with a pointed look, she added, “But you’re not exactly subtle when you talk about her either.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Billie grinned, her tone teasing but affectionate. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a little sparkle in your eyes whenever we watch a movie with a pretty girl in it. Florence, Margot Robbie, Zoë Kravitz… should I keep going?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you laughed nervously. “Oh, stop. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Billie asked, her voice softer now but still playful.

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but her words stuck with you. Sure, you’d always noticed how beautiful those actresses were, but that didn’t mean anything… right?

The conversation shifted to safer topics, and you let yourself relax again. Billie started talking about her latest project, and as always, her excitement was contagious. But when the laughter faded and the night grew quieter, Billie turned to you with a thoughtful look.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice unusually serious.

“Of course,” you replied, straightening up.

“Have you ever… thought about it?” Billie asked, her green eyes searching yours. “Liking girls, I mean.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. “I don’t know,” you said slowly. “I mean, I’ve never… I’ve just always assumed I like guys.”

Billie nodded, her expression gentle. “That’s fair. But sometimes… it’s not as black and white as people think. Sometimes it takes a while to figure it out.”

You looked at her, unsure what to say. Billie had always been open about her sexuality, and you’d always admired her for it. But the idea that you might…

“I just don’t know,” you said quietly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Billie smiled, her tone lightening. “Hey, that’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. But if you ever want to figure it out… I could help.”

Your eyes widened, and you laughed nervously. “Oh, really? How exactly would you help me figure it out?”

Billie smirked, leaning a little closer. “Well, for starters, I could kiss you. See if that sparks anything.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. “Billie!”

“What?” she said, her grin widening. “I’m serious. It’s a scientific experiment, babe.”

You shook your head, laughing, but her words lingered. The idea of Billie kissing you wasn’t as strange as it should have been.

The air between you shifted, the teasing giving way to something more vulnerable. “Do you really think… I might like girls?” you asked, almost shyly.

Billie’s smile softened, her heart aching with how unsure and sweet you looked. “I think you’re amazing, no matter who you like,” she said honestly. “But yeah… I think you might. And that’s okay.”

Billie could see the shift in my expression from thinking to just flat out nervous. “Hey,” she said quietly. “I’m not trying to push you into anything. I just… I love you and I want you to know that. And if you’re not into it, that’s okay. I’ll still be here, no matter what.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—are you saying…?”

Billie’s cheeks flushed, but she met your gaze head-on. “Yeah. I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“You… love me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billie nodded, her smile soft but unwavering. “So much, babe. But like I said, no pressure. I just—needed you to know.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding. And suddenly, everything clicked. The way you always felt safest with Billie. The way her laugh lit up your entire world. The way your chest fluttered whenever she called you “babe” or “princess.” The way you gravitated towards her in any and all social situations…

“Oh,” you breathed, realization dawning on you. “I think I might love you too.”

Billie’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, laughing a little. “Yeah. I think I do.”

You stared at her, your heart racing. And then, before you could overthink it, you said, “So what if… What if I said yes? To the kiss?”

Billie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Then I’d kiss you,” she said simply.

You nodded, your pulse pounding. “Okay.”

Billie leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. When her lips met yours, it was soft and warm and completely overwhelming. Your heart felt like it might burst, and for the first time, everything made sense.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours. “Well?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, tears pricking your eyes. “I think… I think I like girls. Or maybe just you.”

Billie grinned, her relief and joy evident. “Oooh.. Good luck babe.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “Why?”

Billie just smirked looking at you with so much love in her eyes, “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

Billie leaned in to kiss you again. It was soft and sweet and everything you’d been too afraid to admit you wanted.

You smiled into the kiss, leaning into her embrace as the stars sparkled above you. For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[lastofthemadones]

Long Live Evil has me by the throat and I made a Key playlist

(I don't have a spotify account so it's on Youtube Music don't hate me) find it here

Take Me to Church - Hozier

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

2. I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers

One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic, One last kiss, I love you like a statuette, One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg

3. Oceanographer's Choice - The Mountain Goats

Look at that, Would you look at that, We're throwing off sparks, What will I do when I don't have you, To hold onto in the dark?

4. Howl - Florence + The Machine

The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground, And howl, Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

5. From Eden - Hozier

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword, Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

6. Bad Things - Jace Everett

I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you

7. It Will Come Back - Hozier

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back, It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways, Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

8. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, You better run, better run outrun my gun

9. Hurt - Johnny Cash

Everyone I know goes away, In the end, And you could have it all, My empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt

10. We Will Commit Wolf Murder - of Montreal

Something's terrorized my psyche to get even, Lately, you're the only human I believe in

11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) - Fall Out Boy

I used to obsess over living, Now I only obsess over you

12. Fever - Magpie Cinema Club

Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same, but when she put her arms around him, He said, "Julie baby you're to blame, Thou giveth fever"

13. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning, I'll be dead before the day is done, Before the day is done, And now all your love will be exorcised, And we will find you saying it's to be better now

14. Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons

There will come a time I will look in your eye, You will pray to the God that you always denied, Then I'll go out back, and I'll get my gun, I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

15. Monster - Ron Pope

Make me a monster, Make me a beast, Prey on my weakness, Become my disease, I've been lovesick and empty, Cold and I'm trembling

16. Dirty Little Animals - Bones UK

It makes your blood run hot, It makes your spit taste sweet, It makes you feel more alive, Than you have ever been

[asoftepiloguemylove]

WE SHOULD JUST KISS LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO

Marie Howe "Walking Home," Magdalene Poems // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu Heaven Official's Blessing (via Alpha Coders) // Florence + the Machine Cosmic Love // Hozier Work Song // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu Heaven Official's Blessing (via weibo) // Coldplay Sparks // Brenna Yovanoff The Replacement // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu Heaven Official's Blessing (via Wallpapers.com) // Hans Christain Anderson // Richard Siken Crush // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu Heaven Official's Blessing (via panda_colada) // Madeline Miller The Song of Achilles // Leah Horlick For Your Own Good

[rmstitanics]

* FAMOUS INDIVIDUALS WITH YOUR MOON SIGN.

If you’re looking for suggestions on which authors and music artists to check out next, look to your moon sign! In Western astrology, the moon is said to represent your subconscious mind, emotions, and inner personality, so it is widely believed that we tend to relate to media by artists who share our moon sign.

♈️ ARIES MOON

WRITERS:

Gore Vidal

George R. R. Martin

Nicholas Sparks

Rick Riordan

Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Christopher Paolini

MUSICIANS:

P!nk

Whitney Houston

Céline Dion

Selena Gomez

Rihanna

Tupac

♉️ TAURUS MOON

WRITERS:

Jodi Picoult

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Hans Christian Anderson

Clive Barker

George Bernard Shaw

Aldous Huxley

MUSICIANS:

Pharrell Williams

Kelly Clarkson

Bob Dylan

Demi Lovato

Christina Aguilera

Pitbull

♊️ GEMINI MOON

WRITERS:

C. S. Lewis

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Orson Scott Card

Franz Kafka

Margaret Mitchell

R.A. Salvatore

T. S. Elliot

MUSICIANS:

Ella Fitzgerald

Florence Welch

Art Garfunkel

Billy Idol

Sia

Tina Turner

♋️ CANCER MOON

WRITERS:

George Orwell

Liu Cixin

Brandon Sanderson

Cassandra Clare

Diana Gabaldon

Lois Lowry

MUSICIANS:

Tchaikovsky

Taylor Swift

Kurt Cobain

Halsey

Aretha Franklin

Janis Joplin

♌️ LEO MOON

Oscar Wilde

Holly Black

Geraldine Brooks

James Dashner

Jack London

Ta Nehisi Coates

MUSICIANS:

Lana Del Ray

Paul McCartney

Queen Latifah

Niall Horan

Bruno Mars

David Bowie

♍️ VIRGO MOON

WRITERS:

Leo Tolstoy

John Grisham

Claudia Gray

Isabel Allende

Xiran Jay Zhao

Douglas Adams

MUSICIANS:

Dolly Parton

Nicki Manaj

Madonna

Lorde

Bo Burnham

Lizzo

♎️ LIBRA MOON

WRITERS:

Jane Austen

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Sylvia Plath

William Shakespeare

Maya Angelou

R.F. Kuang

MUSICIANS:

Ariana Grande

Charli XCX

Bruce Springsteen

Jay-Z

Harry Styles

Fergie

♏️ SCORPIO MOON

WRITERS:

Veronica Roth

Edith Wharton

V.E. Schwab

Harper Lee

Keira Cass

Meg Cabot

MUSICIANS:

Lady Gaga

Tyler the Creator

Cyndi Lauper

Beyoncé

Bob Marley

The Weeknd

♐️ SAGITTARIUS MOON

WRITERS:

Stephen King

Victor Hugo

Marie Lu

Suzanne Collins

Samantha Shannon

Adam Silvera

MUSICIANS

Hozier

Freddie Mercury

Adele

Ludwig Van Beethoven

Chappell Roan

John Legend

♑️ CAPRICORN MOON

WRITERS:

Sarah J. Maas

J.M. Barrie

Jeff Shaara

Joyce Carol Oates

Stephanie Meyer

Angie Thomas

MUSICIANS:

Frédéric Chopin

Neil Diamond

Jon Bon Jovi

Lin-Manuel Miranda

Stevie Nicks

Donna Summer

♒️ AQUARIUS MOON

WRITERS:

Margaret Atwood

Leigh Bardugo

Louisa May Alcott

Seth Grahame-Smith

Anthony Horowitz

S.E. Hinton

MUSICIANS:

Cody Simpson

Marilyn Monroe

Britney Spears

Billie Eilish

Tim McGraw

Carrie Underwood

♓️ PISCES MOON

WRITERS:

Toni Morrison

Edgar Allen Poe

Malcolm Gladwell

Lisa McMann

Alice Oseman

Philippa Gregory

MUSICIANS:

Kenny Chesney

Elvis Presley

Frank Sinatra

Prince

Kendrick Lamar

Sabrina Carpenter