#west point grey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanakiras · 4 months ago

Text

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

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

WORD COUNT — 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, i don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that sparks your interest. “who?”

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

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

“what can you tell me about him?”

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

“anything else?”

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

“any particular reason why?”

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

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

“such as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

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

the funeral was long — too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

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

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

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

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

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

“then what do you want?”

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

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

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

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

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

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

and for what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

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

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

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

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

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

“what does it say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just tell me what you want already—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

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

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

iv. A PROPOSAL

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

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

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

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

so here you are.

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

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

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

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

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

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

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

but that day never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

many consider you cold and calculated.

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

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

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

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

“it’s fine.”

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

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

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

“can i get you something to drink?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s strange. really strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so that’s just fucking great.

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

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

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

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

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

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

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

of course he doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that surprises you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

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

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

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

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god, you’re sick of him already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no one. supposedly.

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

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

nothing.

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

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

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

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

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

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

“he’s kind of—”

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

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

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

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

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

“right now?”

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

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

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

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

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

works like a charm wherever you go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yet his eyes are on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is that a yes?”

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

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

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

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

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

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

ventilation shafts.

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

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

“what’s wrong?”

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

“nothing.”

“what?”

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

“that’s plenty.”

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

“speak for yourself.”

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

“well… no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

curse him for using your words against you like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

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

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

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

“you alright?”

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

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

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

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

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

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

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“have you met you?”

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

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he welcomes the challenge.

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

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

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

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

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

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

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

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

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

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

“okay. do tell.”

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

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

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

“what’s wrong?”

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

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

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hide? why?”

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

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“and?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

what an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why would you tell him that?”

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

“would that be so bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

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

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

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

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

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

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

“god, you’re so tough.”

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

“i never said i liked you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah. how’d you know?”

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

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

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

“sorry. had a rough day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you don’t show it.

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

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

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

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

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

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

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

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

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

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

it was always supposed to be you.

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

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

“like what?”

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

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

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

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

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

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

“am i on that list too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

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

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

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

when he silently nods, you continue.

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

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

because you don’t hate him anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

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

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

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

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

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

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

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

READ PART TWO HERE

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

#kim mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svthub #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #kim mingyu ff #kim mingyu angst #svt fic #svt angst #svt fanfic #svt imagines

1K notes · View notes

slaytheusurper · 9 months ago

Text

⭑ Undercover ⭑

Well I've officially written my first one-shot, a smutty one nonetheless and I hope you like it. I noticed that there are like 0 fics/one shots of daddy Tim Bradford so I took it upon myself to write one.

summary: I used some of episode 7 season 4 where Tim goes undercover and uhm things happen between you.

Warnings: +18, MDNI, vaginal, creampie, handjob, making out, tim having a sir kink, tim being hot as fuck.

Words: 3.7K

tim bradford x fem!reader

It was the early morning of yet another exciting Monday on the job. Only this time you’re annoying yet hot training officer Tim Bradford wasn’t your training officer anymore. Finally you had freedom, even though it felt strange and almost sad even to not ride with him anymore it also felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You were deep in thought making your to go-cup of iced coffee when a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Well good morning, you’re awake early.” Jackson grinned in the hall leading to his room. He had been your roommate for about 2 years now and after the academy, joining the LAPD out in the real world, called for a friend who knew what you went through. “Yes of course! It’s our first day of freedom. I’m planning on making it the best day ever so I’m going to be on time and prepared. I don’t want my first day to be a failure, I need to prove to Tim that I don’t need him anymore.” You responded to Jackson while pouring the hot coffee over to the to-go cup.

“You know you don’t need to prove yourself to Tim, he knows how good of a cop you’ve become. I mean I get it but still, today will be great. I just know it.” Jackson said as he walked up to you and gave an encouraging pat on your shoulder. “So no coffee for me?” He asked, pretending to look sad as he watched you add the ice. “Sorry, sorry I’ll make some for you too.” You laughed. When you finished up Jacksons coffee as well you two walked out to your car and headed to the station.

After changing into your uniform you headed into roll call while also pretending not to look for your ex-training officer. You took your seat, now in the second row, and talked excitedly to John about the next phase in your career. Some time passed and everyone had taken their seat, Tim as well, but you pretended not to notice his grumbley voice in the early morning. Something you came to appreciate over the years working with him. However you quickly shut up when sergeant Grey walked in. “Good morning everyone, let’s begin today with congratulations to our rookies who are now P2’s. Good job officer Nolan, West and (Y/L/N) it’s not every year that all the rookies pull through. However this new found freedom without your T.O’s does not mean that you’re off the hook, you’ll still be monitored only you now call your own shots. That would be all for this morning, good luck out there.” Grey finished and you smiled at Jackson and John who were both seated on either side of you.

When you walked out of roll call you caught a glimpse of Tim walking behind you and joining you at your side. “Just because you’re not my boot anymore doesn’t mean that you can slack off now, understood?” Tim lectured as he looked at you sternly. “Of course sir, I wouldn’t dream of it.” You responded with a slight smile, you couldn’t help but think he needed to lecture you one last time before you went out on your own but just as you were about to point that out to him Jackson joined your “conversation”. “(Y/n) we should ride together today, already got it approved by Grey.” Jackson smiled. “That sounds great Jackson, let’s grab our gear.” Jackson agreed and you wished Tim good luck today as you headed to grab your gear. You and Jackson then set up the shop and left to go out on patrol. After a couple of calls that were fairly timid you drove yourself and Jackson to the food trucks nearby where your fellow officers were already enjoying a well deserved lunch. The day went on pretty swiftly with nothing major other than a robbery in a convenience store. When the suspect was processed you got called over by Lopez wanting to talk to you about a woman allegedly adding tiger blood in her skin care line and asking if you could join Tim in interrogating her as you were always good at getting a confession out of suspects and Tim could use a hand.

You accepted the challenge and headed over to the interrogation room where Tim and the woman would be. The door creaked as you opened it, Tim’s eyes on you as you entered the room and stood beside him. “I’m officer (Y/L/N), I will be asking you some questions, Mrs Carter is it?” You asked the older woman sitting opposite of Tim. “Yes, but I don’t understand. Officer Bradford is already questioning me.” Mrs Carter almost sneered, clearly she wasn’t happy with the situation. “Well Mrs Carter I am here to uh... learn, I haven’t been on the job long and need some experience, so I hope you won’t mind.” You quickly answered, glancing at Tim who was standing next to you, looking a bit annoyed. “I understand that you recently started your own skin care line?” You asked her while skimming through her file. “Yes we’re a small operation but we’re growing.” She smiled proudly. “We’re hoping to get a write up in Goop.” She continued. “I-I don’t know what that is.” Tim looked at you confused. “I’ll explain later.” You told him, putting the file down. “A friend of yours gave us your night cream, she claimed that it contains tigers blood, like, literally blood from an endangered animal.” You stated. “Firms the skin right up.” She smiled, as if this was completely normal. You almost gasped at her quick confession and looked surprised at Tim before you pointed out, “Participating in the endangered animal trade could land you in jail for up to five years.”

“You don’t understand the wellness game. It’s cutthroat. I need to stand out. How else am I gonna compete with Sloan and her vitamin business? I mean everybody knows that her B-12 rejuvenation pills are just benzos in fancy bottles.” She mused while crossing her arms. Tim gave you an astonished look, which you returned. “Um, she’s selling psychiatric drugs?” You asked the woman. “Oh, the whole ‘westside buffet.” Mrs Carter shrugged. “What’s Sloan’s last name?” Tim exhaled, knowing that this was going to be a dragging one. After some time you and Tim found the woman Mrs Carter had talked about and she was brought in the interrogation room where you two waited for her.

“Take off your sunglasses, ma’am.” Tim sighed at the woman with the big round sunglasses while she was crossing her arms. “Do I have to? These fluorescent lights give me vertigo.” She asked, annoyed. “Okay well that could be the least of your worries. We’ve been informed that you’re selling psychiatric drugs as a vitamin.” Tim continued. “Who said that?” The woman scoffed, now taking off her sunglasses. “Doesn’t matter.” Tim cut her off. “I’m helping people. What’s the problem?” She expressed. Tim rolled his eyes. “You can’t prescribe a controlled substance without a medical license.” You told her. “My husband is a doctor, it's the family prescription pad.” The woman said as if it was obvious. “Yeah that’s not a thing.” You objected, you could feel that Tim was over it. “Look I don’t think you’re hearing me, this makes you a drug dealer.” Tim explained, now getting more irritated. “And given the circumstances a pretty high level one. You could be looking at twenty years in prison.” He continued. “What?! No, no, no, no, no. This whole thing has gotten terribly out of hand. Who ratted me out anyway?” She stuttered. “It was Aston wasn’t it? She’s been trying to break me down ever since I stole her portrait painter. Like she needs to be hung on a wall. You want a real crime to chase? Aston’s trying to hire a hitman.” She claimed almost proudly. “Wh- What do you mean?” You asked her confused. “Her husband's worth more dead than alive, so she’s been on the dark web trying to hire someone to kill him.” She smiled. You and Tim both sighed and looked at each other, this was bigger than you thought. The both of you knew what you had to do, so with permission from Grey, Tim would go undercover as a hitman to try and get the woman to say word for word she wanted her husband dead.

After you got the equipment sorted in the van you waited for Tim to arrive in the parking lot with the Mercedes as the setup vehicle, while the van you were in was parked next to him. You heard a car arrive and opened the door of the van to greet Tim who was now parking the car. “Okay, oh... that’s your disguise?” You asked him smiling, he looked like a completely normal man, not at all like a criminal. “This is what real hitmen look like.” He scoffed as he now stood in front of you. “That is not the point. Come on, get in.” You said ushering him inside the back of the van. He sighs while stepping in the van, sitting down as you climbed in as well, closing the sliding door behind you before you took a seat close to him. “What I’m wearing is fine.” He claimed. “Okay, third rule of undercover work. Know your audience. You are not trying to fool another criminal. You’re trying to fool a woman who gets her ideas about crime from Lifetime movies. Put it on” You explained as you hold the black blazer out to him. “Fine.” He said as he almost ripped the blazer out of your hands. “Thank you.” He removed his open zip up hoodie and instead put the blazer on. “Oh my god.” He scoffed, knowing he looked ridiculous. “Yeah, that’s much better.” You smiled. “I look like an idiot. I’d pull me over in a heartbeat.” Tim sighed. “Exactly, because you look the part.” You said while handing him the earpiece. “Alright mic me up, let’s get this over with.” Tim said as he raised his shirt, revealing his toned abs. You tried to play cool but couldn’t help taking a peek as you peeled the back of the sticker part of the mic off and reached over to stick it on Tim’s chest. “It's a little too high.” Tim said as you stuck the mic on him. “I know what I’m doing.” You said slightly annoyed. You checked the mic and waited for the woman as she should be at your location soon, so Tim moved over to the Mercedes, while you moved so you could listen in and record their conversation.

After some time the woman pulled into the parking lot and Tim stepped out of the car. She pulled up next to him, turned off the engine and rolled down her window. “You made sure you weren't followed?” Tim asked her as he leaned down near her window. “Yes. I drove around in circles for like half an hour.” She said with a smile on her lips. Tim then entered the car as you watched closely, the thought of his toned abs still in your mind. “So, how does this work?” The woman asked curiously. “Well, that's up to you. Your ad indicated you have a problem with your husband?” Tim started. “Yes. I need him to not be alive anymore.” She told him. “Hm, that’s not gonna be enough. We need her to spell it out.” You told Tim in his ear piece. “Do you want it to look like natural causes? A suicide? Homicide?” Tim continued. “Must be a lonely kind of life being a hitman.” She flirted. “It can be.” Tim tried to answer her neutrally. “So you’re not seeing anyone?” She asked. “Oh my god. She’s hitting on you.” You laughed in Tim’s earpiece. “No, not at the moment.” Tim confessed. “You see the thing is the fee varies depending on the method, so I need you to tell me what you want.” Tim tried to press on, only the woman seemed interested in something else. "Ooh. What I want changed a little when you got in the car.” She flirted while putting her hand on Tim’s that rested on his knee. “Wait, is she touching you? She’s touching you, isn’t she?” You laughed again through his ear piece, enjoying this a little too much while Tim is a bit stumped but stays in character. “Look I am down to do whatever you want.” Tim said. “Yeah you are.” You chuckled softly in the ear piece. “I just want the business out of the way first.” Tim continued. “So it’s 20.000 for a straight murder, 25 if you want it to look like suicide.” “Sexy, I’d pay you twice that to kill the bastard.” She said while leaning in a bit. “And the bastard is?” Tim smiled. “My husband obviously.” The woman smirked. “Yes, got her.” You said in Tim’s earpiece. “You know once he’s dead, I’ll be a very wealthy woman.” She smiled. “You’re under arrest.” Tim said while holding up his badge. Finally you got her, so you called for backup on the scene so the woman could be taken to the station in a police car. Tim walked back over to you, you still being in the back of the van. “Well great job we got her.” You smiled as you took off your headset and let Tim in the van. “She really was thirsty, my god.” He said while closing the sliding door behind him and getting in to remove the blazer. You sat across from him secretly watching, hoping to get another glance at his toned chest. Tim lifted his shirt to remove the mic and handed it to you.

“What is it?” He asked you, shit he caught you. “What- Nothing I- I just waited for you to hand me the mic!” You stammered out, a deep blush creeping on your skin and on the tips of your ears. “Really? You didn’t want a show?” Tim grinned, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “No I did not! What are you even talking about!” You scoffed now looking away from him, but still close enough for him to see your blushing features. “I saw you looking earlier, I don’t blame you.” He said looking you up and down. You were in your own clothes as you weren’t on patrol and you were wearing a white sundress with pretty blue flowers all over it. You looked down at your lap shyly. Then you felt Tim coming closer and he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “(Y/n) are you attracted to me?” He spoke softly, with his sultry voice. “What- no I wasn’t even- no I don’t- I don’t know... maybe?” You stuttered now your face was really burning, not only from the embarrassment that you were attracted to your superior officer but also from the touch of his fingers on your chin. “So you are.” Tim smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. You however still looked away from his piercing blue eyes, knowing that once you gave in, you couldn’t look away. “(Y/n) look at me.” Tim instructed, grasping your chin a bit harsher but not as to hurt you. You gave in and looked at him, at his handsome features, his stubble, his pretty eyes and his perfect hair. He was almost too much, and the smell of his delicious cologne wasn’t helping either.

He looked directly in your eyes as well and leaned in closer, the tips of your nose touching, lips a breath apart. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and your breathing became heavier. After a moment he closed the gap between you and claimed your lips with his. His lips were even better than you could’ve ever imagined, soft and pillowy but slightly chapped as well, which for some reason made them even better. As you kissed him back you felt like your entire body was on fire, you moved your hands from his knees to his neck, holding on for dear life, feeling if you let go, you would lose him forever. He moved his right hand to your cheek while the other pulled you in his lap by your waist, now moving his right hand on your hips as well. The kiss got more heated and his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you let his tongue in and met his with yours. At that moment you couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper between kisses. He softly groaned against your lips and his grip on your waist got tighter, he moved you to be right on his groin and gave your hips a squeeze as if asking you to start moving. And you did, you couldn’t not move, the moment was almost overwhelming as you started moving right on his hard on. Your underwear grew wet and you started moving feverishly against him, and then you moved right over his tip causing him to moan in your mouth. His hands moved from your hips to your ass and he started to move you harder against him, the movements alone could make you finish. The fabric of his jeans and the hardness of his erection hitting your clothed clit perfectly. But much to your disappointment he stopped you.

“Sweetheart if you want me to finish already you should continue.” He smiled against your lips. “Let me make you feel even better first.” He whispered as you feel his hands moving from your ass to the inside of your thigh, slowly creeping towards your covered clit and moving his thumb over your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud gasp as he touched you, holding onto his biceps when he moved his fingers inside of your underwear. “Fuck you’re so wet for me. All because of me huh?” He murmured in your ear. He moved his fingers right over your clit, pressing a bit harder to see how you would react. You moaned at his touch. “Tim... please just- touch me, please.” You begged, already high off of his movements. “Maybe I won’t, maybe I like it when you beg for me.” He sighed against your ear, ever so slightly moving his middle finger over your clit. “Please just please touch me.” You continued to beg, needing any kind of release. “Please what sweetheart?” At his words you knew immediately what he wanted to hear, something that you realized he might have loved to hear you say for a long time. “Please touch me... sir.” You almost moaned in his ear. He groaned at this and started moving two fingers right over your wet clit. “Good girl, always knows how to address her superiors.” He breathed in your ear, you could feel him hardening under you even more. He then moved his two fingers inside you, your wet cunt almost sucking them in out of need.

As he fingered you the sound of your wet pussy, your moans and pleas and his heavy breathing could be heard vividly in the otherwise quiet van. “Yes, yes, please sir, please I’m so close.” You moaned in his ear, begging for release. At your words he sped up his fingers, curling them up and hitting that perfect spot inside of you, finally giving you mercy and letting you cum. “Good girl, that’s it. You gonna come for me sweetheart? You gonna cum on my fingers?” He ranted in your ear as the walls inside you contracted while you came, trying to not scream for the whole world to hear. “Oh my god, please I need you inside me Tim.” You begged him, wanting nothing more than to be filled by his big cock. “I’m on birthcontrol so just please fuck me already.” You pleaded, moving your hand to pull down the zipper of his pants and reaching inside his boxers, giving his cock relief. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He groaned against you. You removed his dick out of his pants and moved your hips right above him, sliding your soaked underwear to the side so you could slowly sink down on his aching cock. You both moaned at the feeling and you almost immediately started moving after you grew accustomed to his big size. Holding on to his neck you began moving up and down the noise of his snapping hips on yours and your moans filling the van. He then moved the top of your dress down causing your braless breasts to spill out, which Tim decided to knead. After a few moments he moved that same hand to your ass, under your dress and smacked it hard.

“Oh fuck... oh fuck, you feel so good sweetheart, keep moving just like that.” He grunted, completely enthralled by the feeling of your tight pussy around his dick. “You feel so good sir, just- so- fucking- good.” You moaned as you started moving faster, feeling another orgasm approaching. Tim wanted to fuck you even harder and moved you to your seat so he could put your legs on his shoulders and fuck you deeper which had you screaming in seconds. “Fuck! Tim! Yes! Please, faster, harder please!” You screamed, holding your thighs against you chest so Tim could fuck you deeper. He did as you asked and moved faster and rougher against you, seeking his own high. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum for me?” Tim moaned, moving his thumb to your clit and rubbing it in sync with his movements which made you snap, an overwhelming orgasm overtook you as you moaned his name, walls contracting tightly around his cock. The tight feeling of your wet pussy around him caused him to cum as well, filling you completely with his seed as he moaned your name. After some seconds of calming down he moved to sit down next to you as you felt his cum dripping out of you

“Jesus Christ, we need to work together again huh.” Tim chuckled.

“Definitely” You sighed contently.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well christ that took longer than I thought but I hope you liked it, let me know what I should write next!

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader smut #the rookie smut #tim bradford is hot #we need more tim bradford fics #tim bradford x fem reader smut #tim bradford x fem reader

1K notes · View notes

transformersxreader · 2 months ago

Text

TFONE Starscream x Femme Reader x Yandere-ish D-16/Megatron (Part 2)

/Part Two/

"Anything to report switchsky?"

(Y/n) ask turning to face the group of scout seekers that had just arrived, switchsky shakes her head

"Nothing to report commander (Y/n)."

(Y/n) smiles and laughs

"Please (Y/n) will do, get some rest."

(Y/n) pats switchsky's shoulders, walking off towards the throne area. Where she indeed found Starscream sitting in all his glory.

"Greetings my lord."

Starscream smiles a bit shaking his head,

"Anything to report from our seekers? My dear."

(Y/n) sat on left side of the arm throne, pulling up a hologram of cleared area scouted.

"According to our seekers this sector has been cleared and to the west, but I think for my

Seekers safety I'll check up on the north side myself."

Starscream grabs ahold of (Y/n) servo placing soft kisses and looking up to her.

"Always thinking of our seekers. But you know I can't let u go alone."

(Y/n) sighs hopping off the arm throne

"Fine. Fine. I'll take Boomer and Rushtrap with me okay?"

Starscream stood up from his throne, giving (Y/n) a nod of approval.

"Report back immediately once the north sector is cleared."

"Yes sir."

(Y/n) was just about to turn to leave but felt Starscream servo gently holds up her chin to meet his optics

"Be safe my dear."

(Y/n) blushes chuckling, almost tripping over her pedes.

Transforming quickly to her jet form and calling Boomer and rushtrap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"See anything mechs?"

"Nothing to report (Y/n)."

Rushtrap replies flying on her left while Boomer flew to her right side.

The three transform out of their alt mode landing on a cliff that had a great view of the landscape.

"Hmm..."

"Something the matter Bommer?"

Rushtrap ask making (Y/n) look back to the two seekers waiting for his response

"Something feels off..."

Boomers deep voice echos out till all their coms activated

"(Y/n) report back to base, some scout seekers found trespassers."

"We are a bit far but will arrive soon as possible. Let's go."

(Y/n) jumps off the cliff transforming and blasting off with a bit more speed, rushtrap and boomer transforming following behind (Y/n).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) lands at the entrance of base, noticing all the high guards were gather at the throne area. She looks back to see Rushtrap and Boomer telling them to join the others while she joins Starscream.

(Y/n) made her way through the crowd, the seekers making way for her to get to the front. Once she was in the open area she stops and sees four bots on their knees. The yellow one turns to see (Y/n) and yells out in excitement his arms shaking around.

"Hey!! Look! Look! It's (Y/n)! She's here too!"

The three other bots turn to see (Y/n), she gave them a confused look before realizing that the gray and red bot were the miners she encountered on her mission.

"D-16?"

D-16 optics widen seeing (Y/n) again he felt his spark beating rapidly, he tries to stand but a few seekers aim their weapon to him shoving him down on his knees again.

(Y/n) gave D-16 an apologetic look while making her way up the stairs standing beside Starscream.

D-16 seems to noticed that you were of importance to this so called "wanna be king"

"Do you know these bots (Y/n)?"

(Y/n) looks back to D-16 than to Starscream replying

"Just the grey and red one, they were just simple miners I've encountered during my mission to the Iacon mines."

Orion pax was glad to see a familiar face and just as he stood to say that they should work together to unite cybertron was greeted with guns pointed to him.

Starscream didn't believe in working together uniting cybertron, stating that one bot with the strength should rule/lead.

Every bot cheered at Starscream words making

(Y/n) sigh looking away, truthfully she would follow Starscream without hesitation, but wanted justice for all bots on cybertron and for sentinel to pay for his crimes. Is this really the only way?

She was quickly pull out of her thoughts when Starscream stood from his throne.

"HEY!" What are you doing?"

(Y/n) sees D-16 waking away but was block by two seekers, D-16 turns to face Starscream explaining why he wasn't going to coward away, making pity moves and pretending to be a so called king.

"I found out that sentinel is rotten today! (Y/n) was the only one to warn me about him! but I was too blind to see/hear her! And I'm going to make him pay for it!

TODAY!"

(Y/n) can feel his pain, his optics showing the pain and anger he has build up, waiting for it all to be released to the world. (Y/n) hesitantly steps forward seeing Starscream walking more and more closer to the angry miner.

"You think you could insult me?, And just walk away? No one leaves here unless I say so."

Now both Starscream and D-16 are face to face, D-16 looks down thinking to himself, making eye contact with Starscream

"Is that right?.....well how could say so? With my head in your teeth."

Without a second D-16 head bumps Starscream faceplate catching him by surprise. The whole crowd begins to cheer in excitement for the brawl.

"D!"

"Starscream!"

Both Orion and (Y/n) scream out in fear, Starscream flies up to deliver a kick to D-16, blocking it with his arms but was greeted with a blast from Starscream heel rockets.

Starscream flies straight into D-16 grabbing him by the neck, lifting him up till his back hits a piece of the broken ship. Starscream repeatedly punches D-16 on his stomach, D-16 quickly transforms his leg kicking Starscream off.

D-16 lands on Starscream, giving him punches back onto his faceplate, Starscream encourages him to hit him harder.

Both (Y/n) and Shockwave look to each other thinking the same thought, just as they both were to step in, Soundwave lifts both his arms as to say let them continue.

(Y/n) gave Soundwave a worried look, seeing D-16 hurting her Starscream. The crowd cheers out D-16 name encouraging the bot more, grabbing Starscream by the neck cables.

Starscream voice glitches out more and more as D-16 added pressure to his hold, D-16 angry seems to have come out when he lifted his arm ready to finish Starscream off. Till a large cannon transforms out aiming at Starscream, surprising everyone.

(Y/n) optics widen feeling her spark turn cold in fear, D-16 surprised as well. Talking a good look at his creation heavy breaths steaming out of him, aims his cannon more direct to Starscream.

"No! Please don't!"

(Y/n) steps forward trying to get closer to Starscream, D-16 gave her a stern stare.

"Stop! D! He's not the enemy."

There was a long pause. The atmosphere growing thicker of suspense.

(Y/n) lets out a breath of relief when D-16 pulls away his cannon, (Y/n) quickly knees down to aid Starscream. Holding him tightly, looking up to D-16 shaking in fear.

D-16 felt his spark pulse in pain seeing (Y/n) in this state but seeing her cowering to this so called leader. He could offer you so much more. Together you and him can get back at sentinel from all the pain he has cause.

You can be his.

"BARE WITNESS! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I SHOW MERCY!"

D-16 starts to claim that they should follow him to Iacon city and take their revenge on sentinel prime at this moment, aiming his cannon up shooting out a single charge. Everyone begins to cheer out his name.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/n) voice ask softly to Starscream, his voice glitches out when he tries to reassure her.

(Y/n) places her hand up to his lips, as in a way telling him not to speak.

"Please dear, I don't want you to damage your voice more."

(Y/n) looks around seeing everyone continue to cheer for their new champion, she felt her breath hitch in fear.

D-16 was looking at her direction, his optics seemed to have a more orange color to them. (Y/n) quickly looks away, her attention is back to Starscream. A loud bang can be heard from a distance, a flash of light.

The explosion happened so fast catching everybody by surprise, (Y/n) tightly holds onto Starscream who also holds back both sliding to the floor.

(Y/n) quickly pulls Starscream up pushing him away from the open area, just before Starscream was going to say something, (Y/n) transforms into her jet form. Attacking all the tracker bots down. She tackles one down, lifting up a fellow seeker telling them to take cover. (Y/n) aims up to the sky shooting down a few trackers before she felt someone tackling her down. (Y/n) grabs ahold onto their arms but felt a sting on her neck, looking up.

"A-airachnid!"

"(Y/n)."

Just has (Y/n) was going to aim her weapon at Airachind, she felt a large pain on her side of her helm, everything going dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long, I really took my time on this one,my apologies. I really appreciate your patience

The next one will be the final part, and I'll tell u D-16 is going to yandere-ish to yandere for (Y/n)

Again thanks for all your feedback and support it really means a lot to me! 😊

Peace ✌️

#transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #x reader #transformers one x reader #x cybertronian reader #starscream #d 16 #Megatron #starscream x reader #d 16 x reader #megatron x reader #orion pax #elita one #b-127 #shockwave #soundwave #reader

553 notes · View notes

yuoimia · 5 months ago

Text

I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOUR FACE!

summary: they think you’re too pretty for your own good, really.

characters: wriothesley & alhaitham

notes: gn! reader, lighthearted fluff n teasing, wc: 800.

wriothesley

Does he think he can trick you again?

It’s almost funny, you muse to yourself as he routinely leads you through the fortress’ weaving labyrinths, the delicate wafts of Fontaine’s finest decadents alongside the sweet, slightly floral mist of Earl Grey tea increasing in strength with every step, naturally forming a semblance of a smile before you quickly regained your composure with a disappointed slap to the forearm.

Focus, you reprimanded to yourself. Stop thinking about cakes.

“What’s got you scowling like that?” Wriothesley lifts a curious eyebrow, surveying your face as he lightly closes the door behind you. “Pick a seat; I bought some new cushions since you complained last time that they made your back sore.”

He enunciates the complained with an air as if dealing with a petulant toddler’s meaningless tantrum.

Wriothesley notices how you don’t take a seat.

“Thank you,” you answer, prodding the rounded corners of the flowing material. It’s your favorite color, your favorite fabric.

He gazes up expectantly from his seat, taking a small sip from his teacup, swallowing with analytical attentiveness. “You know, it’s considered impolite to just stand and stare.”

“Wriothesley,” you interpose, crossing your arms behind the chair in front of him, examining his presence with a contemplative look. “What are you getting at?”

You continue theatrically spurring points when met with only silence. “Private teatimes? Customised cushions? Sigewinne’s stickers of you on my clipboards?” You take a generous breath and step, zeroing in on him over the tiers of desserts and frothing drinks, arms encasing his frame over the table. “If I didn’t know better,” you slyly whispered into his unblinking eyes. “I’d assume that you like me.”

The tension was hazardously electrifying, eliciting a sense of exhilaration with the mere possibility of a confession concocting itself into reality.

Wriothesley lets out an animated mixture between a sigh and a chuckle, dropping his head into his hands, before raising his head once more.

“You’ll need to repeat a few points again,” he muttered, smiling to himself, sounding almost disappointed. “Preferably with your back turned to me.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows; each second spent with Duke brought you with an ever-growing list of concerning questions to answer.

“Seeing you that close was quite dangerous,” he replied breathlessly. “I’m surprised you’ve never been labeled guilty.”

alhaitham

Alhaitham was stubborn. Yes, he admits, he could be fairly hardheaded and temperamental, but in comparison to you? Well, he considers that a new territory entirely.

“Birds of a feather,” Kaveh had nonchalantly shrugged at Alhaitham’s situation, nearly trickling an onslaught of sarcastic enquiries about this and last month’s missing rental payments and his growing apprehension towards Kaveh’s financial management, but that, alas, would just prove his point further. Alhaitham would rather have three meals of soup a day than let his agitating roommate emerge victorious in a verbal debate.

Thoughts surrounding soups reminded him to check in if you really had gone to bed after dinner, as you had reluctantly agreed, though not spared a wry roll of your eyes when you thought he had turned away.

It was common knowledge that if a person was sick, they should take it easy, rest often, and avoid strenuous activity and demanding tasks. While you were eager to comply with doing practically nothing all day, when the pedestal of stars rose above the fallen west horizon, so did your desire to defy anything Alhaitham suggested. And this part he fully blames himself, although grudgingly, that it was arguably a hundred percent his fault ninety-nine percent of the time. The factors? This he’s comfortably justified to alleviate restless nights—decisions were almost always influenced by bias, no? It was human, and Alhaitham was nothing but a human with human cognition.

The deliberate turn of the door handle, languid and surprisingly unlocked (what sort of scheme could you be possibly planning now?) has Alhaitham nearly stumbling out suppressed laughter of incredulity.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you promise me you'd go to sleep?” he gapes, the expression bearing comparable similarity to a blown-up pufferfish, not that you’d tell him that.

“Watching a movie. Would you like to join?” you push over blankets and pat an empty spot next to you. “I’m about halfway done so far. I’ll warn you, the protagonist is absolutely insufferable sometimes.” You release a long, suffering sigh, rubbing your forehead as if the character’s choices were causing you great distress. “Honestly-“

Alhaitham sits himself on your bed, much closer than you anticipated, cocking his head at your rapidly stumbling words.

“You’re so stubborn,” Alhaitham scowls, gently wrapping your waist with the loosened blankets. His voice carries no trace of malice, rather weaved with soft fondness. “Come on, let me see this protagonist that is causing you so much grief.”

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley x reader #alhaitham x reader #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#anya writes ᝰ.ᐟ

565 notes · View notes

tls12lessthan3 · 3 months ago

Text

one thing i enjoy about orv is how morally grey kim dokja is, especially in the beginning. during the beginning of the novel kim dokja seems to have almost no empathy for the people around him, and his number one priority is progressing the scenarios with himself being a secondary priority and saving others coming later. he does undeniable good, like saving jung heewon and caring for lee gilyoung - and he does some much more questionable things, like selling his food for coins knowing that it will disappear soon and people need the coins to survive.

this part of orv gets ignored a lot and chalked up to kim dokja's self-hatred, which i disagree with. yes he hates himself and yes he's an unreliable narrator who paints his actions in a worse light because of it but sometimes he just does objectively bad things. and it's interesting when he does! particularly in the beginning, he is focused completely on self-preservation and often steps on others in the process. his actions force you to ask questions like how responsible is kim dokja for those deaths on the subway car, or at that first subway station? is he obligated to try and save the people around him? how strong is that obligation? is it right of him to use his future knowledge the way he does, to decide who lives and dies? they're fairly basic questions, and orv doesn't particularly insist on answering them, but i enjoyed thinking about them nonetheless. the fact is kim dokja was often cruel, to strangers and his companions both, if different types. and you lose these questions when you ignore that. and thats not even to discuss the parallels between his exploitation of yoo joonghyuk's story and the way constellations gobble up incarnations while enjoying their pain. even if yoo joonghyuk eventually decides he considers it worth it, kim dokja still subsisted off of a living being's immeasurable pain for years, and that's a fucked up thing!

and to ignore kim dokja's less-than-moral actions also ignores kim dokja's character arc! kim dokja feels guilt at the end of orv for actions he wouldn't have thought twice about at the beginning and that is because he has changed and matured over the course of the novel and pretending he was always that way erases that. and i dont see why you would want to!! his journey towards seeing his companions as human and learning to care about the 'extras' he previously discarded and coming to understand the damage he inflicts with his self-sacrifice is interesting to watch and discuss. i've seen the stark contrast in empathy from early kim dokja to later kim dokja chalked up to sinshong not being quite sure how to write him yet and while i think that may have played a role i also think they did a good job of building and showing these changes through arcs like the demon world arc, the fruit of good and evil arc and the journey to the west arc

i think i lost my point somehwere but in summary kim dokja does some fucked up shit and some of it is basic edgelord apocalypse murder and some of it is genuinely interesting to contemplate and all of it is important to his character

#orv #kim dokja #if you saw the draft version of this post um. no you didnt

377 notes · View notes

florencemtrash · 7 months ago

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

610 notes · View notes

wildemaven · 7 months ago

Text

dream with me…

You’ve been with Joel for a few years— not in that sense. You met him somewhere between outbreak day and Boston. Smugglers together under the guidance of Tess.

You were both hardened by the same thing— tormented by the fact that you both lost everything that meant the most to you.

The only difference between you both, you harbored feelings for a man who would never have the same for you.

It was on a failed smuggling operation that your life moving forward would change forever. You fumbled the job horribly, nearly getting yourself killed by a group of runners.

Joel had to save your ass. Wasted energy and time, Joel told you, costing you both to forfeit the rest of the job and head back empty handed.

You knew you fucked up and the tension that simmered upon arriving back was obvious. You attempted to smooth things over, apologize for your fuck up and promising to make up for the loss in any way possible.

‘I don’t care what you do, you almost got us killed. I’d be fine if we never spoke again’ was all Joel said to you before icing you out completely.

Tess tried to convince you to stay. Let everything blow over like it usually does. But you couldn’t bear to stay any longer, feeling like a walking hazard to the group. It was only time before you got hurt or worse— someone else would.

Tommy offered you to join him, as he was leaving in the morning to meet up with a group of fireflies heading west. You agreed, asking him to not tell anyone that you were leaving with him.

You took one last look at what had been home for you since arriving in Boston. Glancing at Joel’s closed door briefly, then slipping out undetected, before the sun even had a chance to shine over the QZ.

‘Tommy!!’

The whole town was stunned by the commotion. Tommy and a newcomer’s reunion on display for everyone to witness. Only to you this wasn’t a stranger.

You watched from behind a wall of people, happy to see the two brothers together again. It’s the first time you’d ever seen Joel smile in all the time you had known him.

Silently, you retreat from the crowd and excitement, hoping to remain undetected for the time being.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel was made aware of your presence immediately. Tommy giving him and the young girl that arrived with him a tour of the fenced in grounds, making sure to point out the home you had been residing in since joining the community.

It’s only a matter of time before your paths cross, but you kept your distance, quick steps and redirection, avoiding any and all interactions with Joel Miller.

One evening you’re making your way home from dinner with friends, knowing you had plenty of time before Joel would be joining Tommy and Maria in the same spot. The air cool and crisp as the sun descended behind the Jackson mountains.

Your name being called out by a familiar voice stops you in your tracks. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest listening to the crunch of gravel beneath his boots as he walks closer.

‘Jus’ wanted to come say hi ‘n see how you’ve been. Seen you around here ‘n there. Seems like you’ve been avoidin’ me though.’

You turn to face him fully. He’s a much older version of himself. Greyed and still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

‘I’m fine, Joel. Just makin’ sure I keep up my end of the bargain— with never speakin’ again and all.’

That’s all you manage to get out before you turn and head up the path to your home and closing the door behind you.

Anywho. This was a dream I had last night and it’s been bouncing around my noggin most of the day. Of course it would end on a cliffhanger like that too.

#my dreams be angsty #maybe it will pick up where it left off tonight #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal

492 notes · View notes

tjkl895 · 1 year ago

Text

(https://www.instagram.com/p/Cxa5qtVuYus/?img_index=1)

#army west point wrestling #wrestling #wrestling practice #practice #wrestling training #training #nike #nike wrestling #wrestling tights #compression tights #compression #men in tights #black #grey

8 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Dickies Mom has got it goin’ on

Had to get this convoluted, angsty but fun idea out of my head. One day I might expand it into a better-written, fleshed-out fic, but for now please enjoy my yappy ramblings.

Wally West/BatMom!Reader

CWs: Wally being a not so great friend.

So like, imagine you're roughly late 20s/early 30s and happily married to the love of your life Bruce Wayne, there's an age gap sure, but ultimately that's not important. What matters is that you've made a life with him and his children. You're especially close with Dick, his eldest (late teens/early 20s) as you've known him since he was a teenybopper.

All is well, until one day in true comic book fashion; you die. You sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. It's all very tragic.

A decade later, it turns out fate isn't done with you. You've no idea how or why, but you wake in a coffin one day and have to claw yourself out of it. Cold, alone, and afraid, you make your way back to Wayne Manor. There you're greeted by your husband Bruce, but not really. This Bruce is greying. There are fine lines on his face you've never seen before and a ring on his finger that does not match yours.

You're not mad, it's been 10 years, and he was supposed to move on! But it doesn't feel like 10 years to you, it feels like only yesterday everything was perfect. It's devastating.

Queue Dick finding out. He just so happened to be hanging with his best pal Wally at the time, they both drop everything to rush over in a flash.

Your first night back on earth is messy. It's emotional, and stressful, a hell of a roller coaster. Ultimately, you spend most of it with Dick and Jay who surprise is also back from the dead. Dick is really your emotional soundboard, while Jay offers more practical advice about navigating a world that has gone on without you. He recommends you just take some time off, heal your wounds, catch-up with friends and family. You should learn from his mistakes.

Wally helps too. Primarily in a comedian relief way but also just as a sunny friendly face. His freckles and kind green eyes go a long way in making you feel at ease amongst a sea of familiar strangers.

He's adamant you've met before but you insist you'd never forget eyes that green and it stops his heart. You mean nothing by it, but it means a lot to him.

After you’ve parted ways, Dick makes a point of telling Wally not to flirt with you if he ever meets you again.

“Flirting? I wasn't flirting.”

“I was there.”

“But, come on man she's hot!”

“She’s my mom.”

“But she's our age now.”

“Wally, she's my mom!”

Eventually, after a lot of teasing, Wally surrenders but he deliberately makes no promises. He can't, not when he's been replaying the same 5-second interaction you'd had at Dicks 18th Birthday party many moons ago in his head over and over. He’ll try for his best friend, but it seems to him like this was meant to be.

Bruce may not be in love with you anymore, but he still loves you. So he helps how he can, offers you food and shelter, medical attention, a job, whatever you need to get yourself back on your feet.

You decide to take Jasons advice. Bruce still has a lot of your things; your clothes and your car. You ‘borrow’ gas money from your widowed husband and hit the road to seek out lost friends and family. Sad, but eager to get away from the city that no longer feels like home. You leave your rings with Alfred, a sign to Bruce that you expect nothing from him, that you'll leave him and his new wife be even though it breaks your heart.

The first stop is Dick, obviously, since you have to travel through Blüd. After joining him for a routine patrol, you spend the night on his couch, eating Thai food and talking about his life since you… passed. Nightwing as just finding his footing back then, but now he's a force to rival Batman.

You're two states over when you get a call from a number you don't recognise. Most of the people you know have changed their numbers since you last spoke, so don't hesitate to answer. You're surprised however by whose on the other end.

“Wally West? How did you get this number?”

“From Dick.”

He's not lying, he's just omitting the fact that Dick doesn't know Wally got your number from his phone bill. If he didn't want that info getting out he should probably put his bills somewhere other than a lockbox in a safe and quit being only person in the entire world to still actively use a landline.

His not-a-lie works however, the implication of Dick's approval helps you to let down those mother-appropriate conversation walls.

“Heard you're travelling cross country, any chance you plan on stopping in Keystone?”

“Why? Whats in Keystone?”

“Um, the Patriots?”

“Baseball?”

“And hotdogs! Al who serves em does not skimp on all the toppings, you've gotta try em.”

“You want me to detour in Keystone for baseball and hotdogs?”

“Well, there is something else.”

“And whats that?”

“Guess.”

“Unmmm… You?”

“Ding ding ding. She's smart and beautiful, a woman after my own heart.”

He's cute. So cute. He's no Bruce, but Bruce never made you laugh like this.

“Wally, this is a bad ideas. I was married until like a week ago.”

“And? I'm not askin’ you to walk down the aisle again, just one game and like 20 hotdogs. For me. You don't have to eat that many unless you want too.”

#gilverrrambles #wally west #wally west/reader #wally west x reader

186 notes · View notes

idesofrevolution · 4 months ago

Text

A Night at the Kings Theatre

The Kings Theatre had been long abandoned by the city for over half a century, haunted by the memory of that fateful night in 1978. No one knows exactly what happened, but from tragedy arose legend. 143 people entered the auditorium that April night, prepared to see a terrifying new film just recently brought to America out of West Germany. "Der Kuss der Lust" was some sort of return to the German Expressionist Horror of the 1920's, a film scarcely heard of outside art houses in Berlin, and the hapless crowd came in droves. By the end of the showing, the police had arrived, the majority of patrons leaving the theatre in handcuffs or straightjackets. The city never released any information on the event, opting instead to board up the grand building and never speak of the subject again. That is, until 2024.

The group stared up at the Grandiose Marquee, excited for the long awaited return of their neighborhood movie palace. The four of them giddy with anticipation, they each had their tickets in hand: all found mysteriously in their post boxes that morning. Teddy stood with his mouth agape in awe at the sheer beauty of the facade, while Rod, Sabrina, and Pete gossiped amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it was literally in my mailbox this morning." Sabrina's characteristic monotone delivery making the two boys snicker.

"Girl I can tell you're sooo excited." Rod rolling his eyes at his roommate, well acquainted with her stoic persona. Pete stood looking down at his phone, trying to browse the theatre website to see what film they were about to be subjected to.

"All it says on here is 'Grand Opening Event.' It doesn't say what movie it is. OH! I bet it's that new one we've been seeing trailers all over the place about! The one with Ryan Gosling and Ross Lynch necking while Jennifer Coolidge just sits there!" Pete's boisterous and brash demeanor yet again shining through. A lack of volume control was a typical symptom of his theatre gay archetype, but nothing his friends were unprepared for.

"Shhhh. Look, they're letting people in!" Teddy hushed his little group, pointing to the tall gentleman at the door, now checking ticket stubs as the patrons slowly trickled inside. Teddy was merely along for the ride, roped into the outing by Rod, who was continuously concerned with his homebody lifestyle. "So we don't know what we're watching tonight, huh?" The three others shrugged.

"Does it really matter? It's something to do, Teddy..." Sabrina scoffing under her breath as they slowly inched toward the front doors. Teddy looked at the ticket man up ahead, his eyes sunken in and hunching over the audience members like Frankenstein's Monster.

"I bet he's in character for the movie! I've heard about this in class. They used to have all the staff act all spooky and improv with the crowd to get them in the mood for the movie! I bet it's a horror movie then!" Pete's enthusiasm was not exactly reciprocated as the boys shrugged and Sabrina rolled her eyes. Teddy felt a twinge of foreboding as they approached the towering man, each handing him their tickets. He stared at the group for a moment, the four tickets just hanging loosely from his grey fingers.

"Uh, are we good to go?" Rod stared at the man, whose head slowly turned down to meet his gaze before a demented grin crawled across his decrepit face. He bowed dramatically, waving his arm to usher them into the building, not a single utterance leaving his blue lips.

"Wow, impressive acting. Let's go, boys." Sabrina pushed the three through the open brass doors, Teddy's gaze having a hard time breaking with the strange man. His grin seemed to melt away almost instantly, returning to stonefaced indifference as he attended to the group behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy turned to his group, Rod the only one taking the time to even acknowledge his query.

"Listen, they're just gettin' you in the mood! Like Pete was saying! Lighten up, man. I promise we'll take you home right after this, and you don't have to come out until next week. And we're doin' karaoke baby!" Rod nudged Teddy, whose response was a coy smile as he stared at his feet. He didn't want to be there, but for the sake of his friends he was making an effort.

The lobby was bright and opulent, the Beaux-Arts architecture perfectly coordinating with the beautiful exterior. Heavy red velvet drapes hung between the marble columns, a grand staircase likely bringing folks to the mezzanine, and a modest but well stocked concessions stand stood in the middle of the room. Historic film posters hung prominently against the walls: Casablanca, Dracula, Gone with the Wind, Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, Rebel Without A Cause, Rebecca... all with bold 'COMING SOON' stickers plastered against the glass displays.

"I guess they're doing a whole retro movies vibe! Ooh! I wanna come back to see James Dean on the Silver Screen!" Pete jumped excitedly at the prospect, running over to the poster to take a picture as Sabrina walked to concessions to get popcorn. Rod and Teddy stood there, just admiring the grandeur of the space before the chandeliers began to flicker rather ominously.

"I think that means we need to find our seats." Teddy turned to look at Rod, who was squinting at the tickets to see what seat they'd all been assigned.

"We're in something called MEZ? What the fuck does that mean?" Teddy snatched the ticket, pointing to the top of the stairs in response.

"It means mezzanine, we're upstairs." Teddy motioned to Pete to rejoin them just as Sabrina returned with a gigantic barrel of buttery popcorn, munching away. The group ascended the stone stairs, avoiding brushing against the eager spectators as they rushed to their seats.

The auditorium was equally as grand. A massive brass chandelier hung prominently above the house, boxes lining the sides of the walls above row after row of velvet seats. The group made their way to their rows: Rod and Sabrina in row 3, Pete and Teddy in row 2 immediately in front. They took their seats as the vintage concessions ad played on the massive screen. Teddy heard Rod and Sabrina bickering about roomie problems he cared nothing about, as Pete blathered on about the history of the anthropomorphic dancing popcorn box. The mood in the room was one of excitement, of anticipation, yet for Teddy... it was off. The air felt stale and stagnant, the uncanniness of the movie palace long after it's prime seemed to hang differently in his mind. It felt like a time capsule, a liminal space where time had just frozen still, waiting to swallow it's naive visitors. Perhaps it was just the social anxiety, as Rod would likely dismiss it as. Yet, for whatever reason, Teddy sat on edge and alert. The lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the auditorium as previews began to roll for the films advertised in the lobby.

"Ooooooh! Bela Lugosi was so hot. Like seriously." Pete chimed with his typically chipper demeanor, stealthily stealing a handful of Sabrina's popcorn from behind him as they whispered deep in their argument. "Like can you even blame her for falling for him? I mean come on." Teddy just nodded along, peering around him at the crowd of exceedingly normal people watching the old trailer with glee.

The trailers ended with the screams of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland; Hush, Hush Sweet Charotte ending it's preview as the room was flooded in blackness. Teddy swore he could faintly hear whispers emanating from all around him in the dark cavern, before the room was once again illuminated as the black and white title card brightly shone on the canvas screen. The words were in a strange font, clearly not in English.

"Durr kusss durr loost... Ahh shit is this some kind of foreign film?" Sabrina sighed and reclined back into her chair, taking solace in the handfuls of popcorn she'd been shoveling into her mouth. Teddy recognized none of the actors names as they quickly flashed before his eyes, nor could he understand any of the words in the opening credits. He didn't speak German, but he couldn't wait to rub the hiccup in Rod's face: yet another social outing turning out completely unintended. Thankfully, as the camera opened onto some old Baroque village, as dialogue began, he was relieved to see English subtitles scurrying at the bottom of the screen.

He struggled to keep up with the narrative, as the translation may have been rather poor to begin with, instead opting to focus on the increasingly strange sets these actors were traversing. From what he could tell, there was a nobleman of some sort who found a village woman he'd fallen in love with. The book was promising powers of love beyond human comprehension, and in his hubris, the nobleman tries to cast a spell of lust on the beautiful young woman.

"I mean look at the set design, it's giving Nosferatu. NO! Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.... Oooh it's so cool!" Rod nudged Pete with his shoe, shushing him as neighboring patrons shoot dirty looks in their direction. Teddy became completely enveloped in the bizarre imagery rather quickly. The film was almost dreamlike in quality, walls seemed to jut out in different directions, the lighting was dim at best and only illuminating essential props or entrances and exits for characters. The sounds of the auditorium slowly faded away into the periphery, and all that could be perceived was the muffled voices of the actors.

Time was not a consistent factor in the film, it just meandered from scene to scene, with disconcerting Dutch angles increasing dread at every turn. What felt like one minute could easily have been twenty, but fortune momentarily smiled on the encapsulated young man. Teddy felt his stomach rumble, momentarily breaking him from his trancelike state to reach behind him into their popcorn bowl. He'd fully expected a wrist slap from Sabrina, but after three or four handfuls of popcorn, that moment never came. This moment of sheer confusion pulled him out of his tunnel vision, if only to reassure Sabrina that he'd pitch in for the popcorn. As he turned around, he was met with a sight he never could have ever imagined.

Sabrina's head was turned toward Rod, and for a moment, Teddy thought they were just whispering to eachother, continuing their asinine argument over who ate the pickle chips the night before. Though as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, it became clearer just what it was they were doing. Her lips were planted firmly on Rod's, his left hand slowly sliding up her thigh. Teddy quickly swiveled his head back to the screen, eyes wide with shock. Rod was a flaming queer, just as he was and just as Pete was. Sure, Sabrina was straight, but he couldn't imagine her boyfriend being thrilled at the sight of Rod necking her in a movie theatre.

"Dude! Look at their facial expressions! You don't even need subtitles, you just need to see their faces!" Pete's voice hummed distantly, being completely ignored by all around him, doing little to aid Teddy's growing discomfort. The sounds of wet, sloppy kissing began to ring out from behind him, their breaths shallow and low. Teddy's eyes darted around him, the faded outlines of the other patrons not getting any clearer, nothing but the film there to distract him. Especially as the sounds of comingling tongues abruptly came to an end, only to quickly be replaced by another more terrifying sound.

*Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* *Slurp* "Ahhhh yeah, baby..." It was unmistakable. That was Rod... With each stifled moan, every snarling growl and wet slurp, he could hear his friend's voice growing lower and lower. His growls becoming louder... rougher... more animalistic. Teddy stared forward, beads of sweat starting to seep out of his forehead as he listened to the two most ill-matched people get it on directly behind him. He heard their pace quicken, Sabrina's slurps turning into gags as he heard more bizarre sounds arising from behind. Creaking... The sound of shifting leather, or maybe it was tearing fabric... Or the sound of an inflating balloon... Teddy felt his breath start to quiver, as he looked down between the armrests, seeing Rod's Chuck Taylors start to wriggle and writhe. His eyes widened, seeing the black canvas fabric start to flush white, growing larger and larger. He recognized the Nike symbol starting to protrude from the sides of the sneaker, and as Rod's voice growled into an enraptured release, the Converse were now a pair of large, beat up AirForce1's, covered vulgarities written in black Sharpie. Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, Sabrina giggling as he heard the sound of a waistband snapping back to place. It was silent for a moment, Teddy too nervous to look behind him, but desperately wanting to know what happened to his friends.

"Ahhhhhhh yeah, babe." There was a thud, Teddy peering down to his right and seeing the gigantic sneaker resting on his arm rest. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned his head. There, leaning forward with his hands on his head was Rod- or at least, someone that once was Rod. The tall, skinny little gay boy he'd befriended had been replaced with a gigantic, tattooed man. His hair cropped short, his muscles bulging, his shirt sitting on his thigh below his exposed torso now adorned with thick silver chains.

"Huhu, my bad, bro. When duty calls, am I right?" Rod grabbed onto his monstrous bulge, hiding behind the cum stained fabric of his white shorts. Teddy felt the blood rush from his head at the very sight of it. He watched as Sabrina, now equally scantily clad with tattoos, jet black hair, and devious grin mischievously slithered her hand beneath his waistband, grabbing ahold of his thick cock and slowly pumping. Rod winked at Teddy, turning again to Sabrina and kissing her once again.

Teddy whipped his head back to the screen, mortified and terrified in equal measure. He looked around him yet again, only seeing once again the dim outlines of the other patrons completely enveloped in the film before them. He turned behind him, doing his best to ignore the slimy sound of Rod's handjob to see the doors had staff members blocking each exit.

"Fuuuuuuck, bro. This shit is tight. Lemme tell you, man. I need this shit on Netflix." Teddy ignored Pete's typical unwarranted commentary, peering down over the house to see if the patrons below were also... different. Through the dark haze of the auditorium, he received his answer. The vast majority of the audience was completely enraptured with the film, not so much as flinching as they watched the nightmarish visions on screen. However, he'd started to notice the dim outlines of a couple people leaning in toward eachother. He couldn't pry his eyes away, so Teddy could only watch as he saw the patrons start to grope, kiss, and go down on eachother. A couple up front necking in the first row, two guys sliding their hands into eachother's pants in box 5, a group of what he'd assumed were bachelorettes just sliding their hands over eachother's breasts.

"Pete... Pete, we gotta get the fuck out of here." Teddy whispered to his friend, not taking his eyes off of the filth that was unraveling around them. Three seats over, one man was now bent over the railing of the balcony, three other men taking turns railing him right there in public to no outcry whatsoever. Teddy whipped his head toward Pete, still intently watching the film. "Pete! Pete, let's go!" He grabbed onto his wrist, feeling a strange rubbery texture tightly wrapped around it. He looked down, watching in terror as his friend's pristine watch slowly warped beneath his hands. Tightening until all that was left were three rubber bracelets in bright vivid colors.

Teddy's gaze slowly rose from his friend's hand as his fingernails slowly turned black. The rotund theatre gay was rapidly losing mass. His tight sweatervest growing looser and looser before his eyes. Fat seemed to shrink into nothingness as the sleeves of his shirt began to slowly rise up the length of his arms.

"Dude... I feel kinda funky, bro." The typical chipper demeanor was slowly vanishing, his eager eyes began to droop, as his short brown hair started to grow. The dark brown hairs quickly were flushed with a wash of bright blonde as it snaked out of his scalp down to the nape of his neck in sweaty, messy curls. His jawline was sharpening, his lips getting plump and thick.

"Pete... PETE!" Teddy screamed at the top of his lungs, not a single patron even flinching at the toil in his voice. "HELP! SOMETHING IS WRONG! SOMETHING IS VERY VERY WRONG!" Teddy shot up out of his seat, his ankle painfully hitting something hard. He peered down to see a heavily used skateboard resting under his friend's feet, absentmindedly rolling side to side as his loafers warped quickly into large, well worn white Vans. Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth as he followed the shifting clothes, up the khakis turning tight and ripped against lean thighs, up to the growing bulge and wet patch bulging out of his groin, up to the studded belt tightly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Heheh..." Pete's voice was growing duller, more coarse as the scent of sweat and cannabis began to waft off him. His sweatervest and shirt shrinking into a sweat stained white tee shirt, and as Teddy's gaze finally fell on Pete's face... he knew he was gone.

"Broooo this shit is sick... Oooh, man. I got a j in my pocket, man. I'll let you hit it if you let me..." Pete's fingers inched toward his belt buckle, slipping under the fabric of his jeans. "C'mon bro. Don't let Rod be the only one gettin' some dick attention tonight." He winked through the colored sunglasses hiding the red, stoned eyes behind.

"I..." Teddy nervously stood there as Pete unbuckled his pants, his twinky, sweaty hand sliding down into his underwear and wrapping around his slowly growing cock.

"Yeah, bro... Come let Petey take care of this." Teddy was lost in a moment of bliss as Pete slowly and tenderly stroked his cock in his pants, igniting the joint between his lips as he pumped.

"Whuh.... Wait... I uh... I need to go to the bathroom. Really bad. I'll be back, just give me a minute..." Pete smirked, letting his hand retract from Teddy's groin.

"Well, don't be too long, bro. My throat is waitin' for ya. Heheh." He stuck out his long tongue with a vulgar whip. Teddy wasted no time bolting toward the door, realizing only as he was chest to chest with the decrepit usher that the restrooms were merely to his right and left. The creepy man flashed the same unhinged smile, not budging an inch. Teddy burst into the men's room, leaning against the ceramic pedestal sink and peering into the mirror. He flipped the faucet, water flowing from the tap as he splashed it against his face. Then, he heard it. The creaking of leather. He looked down at his feet in horror as the New Balance sneakers he sported started to quiver and undulate.

"No... Noo... NOOO." He vigorously splashed his face with the cold water, rubbing his face like a maniac. It was only then that he started to feel the roughness around his upper lip and jaw. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror, as he felt hair sprout below his nose and stubble poking around his sharpening jawline. He could only peer down as he slowly began to accept his fate. The sneakers quickly stretched wide and big, a scuffed black leather replacing the grey suede as they shifted into a pair of heavy black harness boots.

His breath grew shallow and rapid, watching his sweatpants suction in tight around his inflating calves and thighs, turning slick and black. The comfortable grey Champion sweats were nearly skintight now, as if painted on atop his lengthening legs. The bottoms slipped into his boots and fastened beneath the damp fabric of his black socks, and the shiny black leather pants began to creak as his own bulge started to grow round and distended. Teddy gasped for air as he felt his shaft stretch out, a foreskin creeping over the head of his weeping cockhead, seeping into the sweat and cum inundated jockstrap now around his waist and thick ass.

"Ohhh... fuuuuuuuck." His fingernails turned black as tattoos began to sprawl from his knuckles up his swelling arms. The sweatshirt he wore felt tighter and tighter as his shoulders broadened and his torso stretched upward, taking on a lighter tone as little tears started to appear around the collar and along the seams. "Unnnnnnnnff" His voice started to dip lower and lower as the heavy sweatshirt's sleeves retracted in toward his shoulders. He felt himself sweating, wiping the sweat from his lowering brow and brushing the now frosted blonde tips of his mullet to the side. He looked at his hands, undeniably his own, yet completely unfamiliar; watching them as they slowly slipped lower toward his throbbing cock. He pulled up his weathered, well loved white tank top, the intricate ink across his rippled abs begging him to go lower and lower, his head throwing itself back as his fingers slipped into his creaking leather pants.

"Brooooooo you in here? What, didja fall in?" As he heard Petey's stoned ass voice echo off the tiled walls, he turned his head as he groped his slimy cock in his pouch. His three friends, vaguely familiar now, all sauntered in looking at him with knowing smirks. "Awww, Theo. I told ya not to get started without me."

Theo leaned on the sink, groping himself with a devilish smirk, beckoning his favorite throat goat to come gobble up his musky rod. Petey took a hit off the joint, handing it to Sabrina before getting on his knees before their bisexual bad boy. He opened his maw, Theo knowing right away what to do as he spit in Petey's eager mouth, and pulled out his throbbing dick. As the skater expertly wrapped his lips around his manhood, Theo turned to Rod and Sabrina, winking. Rod grinned.

"Yeah, boy. Gimme summa that, no homo though, bro." The 6'5 basketball stud sauntered over to his bro, planting a wet kiss onto Theo's supple, cigarette stained lips. As Sabrina took Rod's monstrous cock into her mouth, the four of them fucked in the bathroom surrounded by the stench of sex. Swapping partners at the drop of a hat, sucking face and dick with no hesitation, worshipping Theo & Rod's big smelly feet or railing Petey's tight little hole while Sabrina ate out Theo's sweaty rear. By the time the Usher came in to tell them the film was over, buckets of cum were splattered over the walls, floor, ceiling, and friends.

"Heh, c'mon guys. We can continue this back at my place." Theo wrangled his little posse of fuck buddies out of the bathroom, past the outrageous orgy slapping about in the auditorium. The four walked out of the Kings Theatre, stinking of cum and sweat in the night air, knowing fully well they'd be returning soon enough.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #musk #gay transformation #bi transformation #gay to straight #gay to bi #bad boy #transformation curse #badboy #tattoos

309 notes · View notes