#LONG HAIR ON MEN IS SUPERIOR AND THIS WAS A CRIME

[pearlsdiamondsandvodka]

i will never forgive queer eye for this…

they took this interesting pretty boy and made him look like a generic white guy I wouldn’t be able to pick out of a crowd. long hair on men is always better…rip😔

[lucysarah-c]

~ Holy Ground ch. 1 ~

Summary:

"Alright, get comfortable because this is going to be a long, crappy tale. Join me as we travel down memory lane, back when Erwin wasn't yet a commander, when Mike and Nanaba couldn't keep their hands off each other, when Hange was… well, Hange. And Levi? Well, Levi was a twenty-four-year-old man who didn't give a damn about the rules. Are you ready?"

Warnings: This story contains age gaps, time period misogyny and mentions of homophobia, strong and offensive language, underage sex, alcohol, smoking, implied/referenced of drug use. This is a very slow burn so everyhthing takes a while to happen. Explicit sex content. Virginity, loss of virginity, cheating, mentions of cheating, pregnancy but no by the main character, consensual sex, consensual underage sex, underage kissing.

Pairing: Levi x Reader x Erwin. Levi x Reader are end game. (this is not eruri). This story takes place after ACWNR but BEFORE season 1.

-> Masterlist to all the chapters! <-

Just after Historia's coronation but before the expedition to Wall Maria, this story took place. Everything was coming to an end after a long and exhausting day of duty in the legion. The night had already fallen, and dinner at the mess hall was over. Our lively group of cadets had planned to sneak out after curfew to enjoy their youth. Well, that was the plan IF a certain short black-haired captain didn’t catch wind of it.

The plan was simple: they would all wait in their respective shared rooms and beds until the last superior left the public areas. It wouldn't be too difficult if Sasha and Connie could refrain from cracking jokes, or if Eren and Jean could postpone their petty arguments. They were just a few meters away from the front door, with the gates right in front of them. They were so close that they could already feel the cold autumn air brushing against their faces. However, their intentions and dreams crumbled like water slipping through their fingers when a throat was cleared loudly in the room. Some of them bit their bottom lips and closed their eyes, while others, like Eren and Jean, clenched their teeth, as if bracing for impact. On the other hand, Mikasa, with her usual calm demeanor, turned to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, Y/N was leaning against the doorframe, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Her arched eyebrow silently questioned the cadets, who knew they better answer soon.

"It's not what it looks like!" Jean was the first to attempt a convincing response but faltered flatly.

"Really? Then what does it look like?" the superior took a sip of her freshly brewed tea and followed up with a verbal question this time.

Armin was next in line to offer an acceptable excuse, but before he could even finish, the woman shook her head with closed eyes.

"Oh, sweet summer child, you can't hold a candle to me," she said with a tired voice, followed by a loud sigh.

The group of teenagers looked at each other, trying to gauge how many hours of punishment awaited them. It wasn't too much to ask, after all! The fair was in town, and wanting to have some fun during one of the few nights when the town came alive in the late hours shouldn't be a crime. Truth be told, they didn't know what their superior could actually do to them. They were accustomed to the captain's cold treatment, but Y/N's? Not really, since she had recently returned to work.

"Well? Are you planning to stand here all night or what? Come on, follow me," the young woman ordered, making her way in the opposite direction of the main door.

Without a doubt, the famous group followed closely behind her. They didn't dare make a sound as they walked in an unknown direction. The clock in the common area struck midnight as the group navigated the halls of the Scouting Legion's building. During their expedition (not precisely outside the walls), the young men in the group couldn't help but notice their superior's revealing outfit. She wore an oversized grey shirt that clearly didn't belong to her, along with a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. She wasn't even wearing shoes, walking through the halls barefoot and without any source of light. It was as if she knew the corridors like the back of her hand. Armin, the clever one of the team, was the first to notice that he had seen that shirt before, and his blue eyes shone with his brand-new discovery. It was (Y/N) who broke the silence.

"Allow me to give you a few tips for next time," she said, walking and turning around to face the team.

"Never try to sneak out through the main door. Why? All the superiors' offices are on the upper floors, and none of them go to sleep so early. Conclusion: you're going to be heard. Second, never wait until everyone is supposed to be asleep. You may think that the darkness of the night will protect you, but it only makes things worse. Next time, try to do it right after dinner. Everybody is still walking around, so it won't be strange if you're out and about. But don't all go together; that's suspicious. Plus, the superiors usually stay a bit longer, chatting about life or whatever."

The 104th promotion was in shock. Since when do the superiors give advice on how to break the rules? However, they were all taking mental notes of this valuable information. Every wise word that came from the woman's lips was pure and solid gold.

"Last but certainly not least," she said as they turned the corner and entered an old storage room for forgotten equipment. "Use a hidden door."

She walked straight toward the stone wall at the end of the room. She moved the old boxes, covered in dust, and muttered to herself, loud enough for the rest to hear, "the fifth brick from the left," then pushed with all her strength. Suddenly, a secret door opened, revealing the cold night sky.

The teenagers were completely overwhelmed to see such an awesome secret hidden behind that old, mossy wall.

"When you want to come back, there's a small leather handle on the other side. Just give it a gentle pull, and you're in. It's as heavy as it looks," she clarified, so the team could return without being seen. "If I were you, I wouldn't do it tonight. Tomorrow, you have an intense practice session with Levi, and you'll regret this. But nothing like the present, right? Come on, let's go! I have better things to do than freeze to death here."

After the last sentence, all of them rushed out in a hurry, except for Armin, who looked at his superior with curiosity. She could easily tell that the blond short kid was her favorite; his wisdom and curiosity reminded her of herself when she was still a little girl.

"Why?" he simply asked.

"Because I was once young too," she replied, crossing her arms on her chest. "And just because I'm having an awful and boring night doesn't mean you have to as well. Go on! Have fun, get drunk, enjoy it while you can."

The group was expecting various resolutions to this outburst of rebellion, but this was certainly not one of them. Of course, they didn't waste any time and went out. While the young ones were having the time of their lives, (Y/N) made her way back to her room with her now cold tea. If someone could have seen her face, they would have noticed that she wasn't the happiest woman wandering around that night.

Lost in her memories, she tried to recall the last time she used that secret door. As she pondered, another memory burst into her mind like a firework: the very first time they had discovered that secret door. A nostalgic smile appeared on her face, resembling that of a mother watching her child play in the backyard.

The voice of experience never seems to fail when it comes to predicting the future, better than any oracle ever created.

"For fuck's sake! What the hell is wrong with all of you today?!" The unmistakable voice of Captain Levi echoed in the training area as his team seemed to be devastated that morning. "What a shitty performance you're all giving today!"

The woman, who was supervising the training, hid her laughing face behind the notebook where she took her notes. The short man turned around to see what was so funny, and she tried to regain her composure in front of him, but failed miserably. The only sounds coming from the cadets were yawns and tired attempts to reply "yes, sir" with enthusiasm.

"Let them go, Levi. They can't even keep their eyes open," she tried to convince the black-haired man.

Not at all pleased, Levi chickled his tongue and rolled his eyes. He knew she was right; training in this state was pointless. However, he wanted nothing more than to kick all those brats' asses for making him waste his time.

"Alright, you shitty brats, get the hell out of the area before I kick each and every one of you so hard that you'll stay awake for an entire week," he pronounced with an irritated tone.

He couldn't even finish his sentence before his team was already making their way back to their rooms. But they weren't the only ones trying to escape from humanity's strongest soldier. The woman gathered her things and attempted to sneak away before he could notice.

"This better be the last damn time you let them sneak out during training days. Am I making myself clear?" Levi turned around and said to the young woman who had been sitting next to him just a few minutes ago.

"Oh, come on, Levi! Let it go this time," she replied, chuckling. "We were young once too."

She tried to ease the tension with a sweet smile, glad that they were talking like usual. However, the look he gave her caused her to lower her gaze with sadness in her eyes. She wondered when everything would go back to normal. She missed him and the warm, small smile that he only had for her.

"It won't happen again, sir," she said, not even attempting to conceal her sorrow as she walked away.

Reader’s pov

The day went without any problems and was relatively peaceful, as peaceful as a day at the scouts can be. We had a little meeting with the remaining superiors. Levi seems to insist on giving me the cold, silent treatment. Last night, I tried to change things a bit, hoping that after nearly six months of chilly nights, he would warm up to me. I even went ahead and offered him a massage, wearing nothing but his shirt. I know how much he likes it. But even the freezing marble floor beneath my bare feet felt warmer than him.

I wonder if this is as difficult for him as it is for me. After enduring his cold treatment, the words slipped out of my lips. I couldn't hold back, I needed to ask him.

"Are we breaking up? Just tell me so I can stop making a fool of myself in front of you. Come on, muster the courage to say it," I said, feeling tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"Don't shout. You'll wake up the entire legion," he replied without even looking up from his paperwork. "Whether we break up or not, it's not my decision. I'm not the one hiding information here."

As he finished his cold-hearted sentence, I quickly put on the first pair of shorts I could find and ran out of the room. I needed some tea to calm my mind. This was all too much for my weary body. While I was in the kitchen, I overheard Levi's squad attempting to sneak out. Initially, I considered walking away, but I knew Levi would catch them. However, he wouldn't dare intervene if I were with them, not after our little argument in our shared room. So, I made a decision. I helped them out.

And now, here I am. I just took a shower in the common area because Hange's bathroom is dirtier than any titan's mouth. I walk down the corridors, wondering if I'll have to sleep on Hange's sofa once again. My lower abdomen is throbbing with pain. A comforting cup of black tea made by my wonderful boyfriend would be a dream, but dreaming of freedom for humanity seems more realistic than that. On my way, I notice a group of cadets stationed at the watch post outside the building. Among all the scouts, I recognize those faces—it's Levi's team. I bet they're being forced to pull an all-nighter for night watch duty as punishment. Typical.

"Well, well, look at that. Not only do I grant you a free pass, a free morning, but also a night of bonding with friends at the watch post," I say, making my presence known among the group. This causes Jean to spit out the liquid he was drinking, and all of them turn around with pale faces.

"Calm down, guys. I'm not here to punish any of you."

They all let out a collective sigh of relief upon seeing me.

"For a moment, we thought you were a real hard-ass superior," Connie says, chuckling, which surprises me and widens my eyes.

"Excuse me, brat?! What do you mean by 'real superior'?" I ask, irritated by the tone in my voice.

"We didn't mean to offend you! It's just, it's just…" Armin tries his best to salvage the situation after his comrade messes up.

I can't help but burst into laughter as I struggle to sit between Eren and Jean. I clutch my lower abdomen, right where my bandages are. I wonder when the pain will finally subside.

"It's alright, I was just teasing all of you," I say, observing their puzzled expressions as they exchange glances, trying to decipher why I'm here. I wish I knew myself what the hell I'm doing here. But honestly, anything is better than going back to my room and pretending that everything is okay when it's not. "Do you mind if I spend the night with you? As a token of appreciation, you can ask me anything you want."

I enjoy the way their faces change upon hearing the last part, especially Armin. That little blondie's blue eyes gleam with curiosity. But Jean isn't far behind; his expression screams, "I'm going to confirm all the juicy rumors." However, to my surprise, it's neither of them who asks the first question.

"Do you know how to do Captain Levi's spin?! Can you teach me?" Eren enthusiastically shouts the first question.

"I'm afraid I don't, sorry sugar cube," I reply, oblivious to the numerous protocols I've just violated with a single response.

I'm not accustomed to dealing with cadets; my work has never involved interacting with them. I can tell they're taken aback by my pleasant demeanor, especially Eren, whose face turns crimson at my nickname.

"Are you Captain Levi's girlfriend?" Armin's question feels like a stab to my injured heart. Everyone gasps at the question; I suppose they all had their own speculations.

'Right where it hurts, Armin, right where it hurts,' I think, while I try to come up with a realistic reply. Technically, I'm still Levi's girlfriend. ' His freaking five-year-old girlfriend.'

"I am, but I'm guessing you already knew that, didn't you?" I respond with elegance, attempting to sound confident.

Immediately after my reply, the entire group starts bombarding me with question after question. It's as if “Levi's girlfriend” title has opened a door they've all been yearning to enter. I can't help but let out a small laugh at the situation I've gotten myself into. I'm like that bold friend who's been intimate before the rest of the girl group, and now everyone wants to know every detail about the brand-new topic.

"Whoa, calm down, guys! One question at a time," I say, gesturing with my hands for a momentary break.

"Is it true that he was from the Underground and he was a rebel?" Eren once again fires off a question, a quick kid armed with surprisingly accurate information.

"Where did you hear all that?" I inquire before answering, unable to contain my laughter. "It's true, he was quite the rebel when he arrived from the Underground. He even used to wear a black leather jacket during his free days. I must admit, it suited him."

They take a brief moment to process the new information, mouths agape, before the barrage of questions resumes. I do my best to respond to each of them to the best of my ability before Jean asks the one million dollar question you should never ask someone whose personal relationship is falling apart.

"How did you two start dating? He doesn't strike me as the dating type," Jean wants to know the most challenging information that has ever existed.

"Well, it's a long story that goes way back, even before Wall Maria fell," I reply as casually as possible. "And trust me, none of you wants to hear it."

"I do!" is the only thing I hear amidst that chilly autumn night. I know I shouldn't because it's not just my story; it's Levi's too, and I know how reserved he is about his private life. But I'm heartbroken and nostalgic, surrounded by a group of teenagers. Nothing good could happen tonight, so…

"Alright, get comfortable because this is going to be a long, crappy tale. Join me as we travel down memory lane, back when Erwin wasn't yet a commander, when Mike and Nanaba couldn't keep their hands off each other, when Hange was… well, Hange. And Levi? Well, Levi was a twenty-four-year-old man who didn't give a damn about the rules. Are you ready?"

Author's Note: This was the very first long fic I ever decided to write, and it's the reason I opened a Tumblr account back in the day. I deleted the chapters here because it felt like nobody was reading it, and I decided to focus my account on other things. Now that I'm rewriting the old chapters to finally finish the last five of a story spanning over 40 chapters, I've decided to give it a second chance and post it again!

I'll be posting all the new chapters every Friday! The banner was made by me, and the little "dividers" I add have a purpose—haha! The story advances through Levi's entire first year as a scout, so we'll go through all the seasons, starting in autumn. I don't usually ask for much, but Holy Ground has always been my baby, and if you guys decide to give it a try, I'll be forever grateful. <3

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[arcane-vagabond]

Together, Transformed: Prologue

Together, Transformed: Prologue

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Witch!Reader

Summary: In turn of the century America, long before the Revolutionary War was even a thought in anyone’s mind, a small village was home to a most beloved and respected healer. When jealousy begets feelings of maliciousness, you are accused of witchcraft. Centuries later, you live your life as a normal, everyday witch, but even you have to admit that strange things tend to happen to you sometimes. It all comes to a head when you meet a strange man who seems to know all about you. (Witch!AU)

Content Warning: Betrayal, Mentions of Witchcraft, Trials, Death, Burning at the stake, Curses, Crying, General feelings of despair, Executions. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The wind whipped around you, biting into your skin and sending a shiver up your spine. Your dress did little to protect you from the elements, having put it on when the weather was still warm, but here you now stood, the cusp of autumn in front of you with a wooden pole to your back. Your hair had been shorn from your head, your lip split from where the guard had back handed you that morning.

Your cheek still throbbed at the memory of it.

The sun was hidden behind a wall of clouds above you, a rather fitting scene given where you found yourself now. The sky threatened rain at any moment, and for a moment you wondered if it would save you from your doom or prolong it.

Dirt caked your skin, causing an itchy sensation that somehow bothered you more than the predicament you currently found yourself in. It was a spot by your nose that bothered you in particular, but with your hands bound to the post behind you, there was little you could do but suffer in silence.

The wind blew once more, ruffling the skirts of your dress, and you gritted your teeth as you pressed your eyes together. You would not show these people weakness.

You opened your eyes once more to gaze upon the sea of faces that stared back. Some you knew well, their faces grim if they weren’t streaming with tears. Neighbors you had helped on more than one occasion with your healing knowledge. It wasn’t your born gift, but your family specialized in the practice, and you had shown an adept talent for it since a young age. Your family and other gifted folk had all marveled at your talents, calling you a prodigy.

Though you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they were there—hiding beneath the dark shadows of their cloaks. You knew none would come to your aid, it simply wasn’t the gifted folk’s way. Helping meant exposure for all, and exposure meant certain death—a death you were moments away from facing.

Amidst the familiar faces were those you had seen in passing if you had seen them at all. It wasn’t every day a witch was to be burned for her heresy, and several people—men, women, and children—had made the journey from neighboring towns and villages to watch the spectacle. Sneers of contempt and looks of derision were pointed your way, and you wondered briefly if they would still feel this way were they to learn about the good you had done, the healing and kindness you had brought to others.

Your name rang out amidst the silence, drawing your attention towards the stage where the magistrate and his lackeys sat, their black robes and ill-fitted wigs giving them an air of false superiority as they looked at you with their dark, beady eyes.

“You have been charged with the crime of witchcraft for which you have been found guilty,” continued the magistrate, his voice booming for all in the courtyard to hear. You fixed him with a cold stare, smirking slightly at the subtle twitch by his eye before he averted his gaze back down to the paper he held in his hand. You let out a quiet snort as he continued, a small tremor to his voice.

“You shall be burned at the stake until none of you remains, your ashes thrown in the river, your belongings seized by the government. Your belongings shall be donated to the church, the flames of the fire shall cleanse you of your sins and wrongdoings.”

He paused lowering the page to look at you once more, thin lips down-turned so that they pulled on his sagging skin.

“Have you anything to say?” He asked, lifting his chin at you. You fixed him with a glare, keeping your mouth clamped tightly. Nothing would free you from these binds, so nothing you would say. The magistrate took a deep breath before looking down at the executioner, a stout man who held a lit torch in one hand, and nodded. The executioner stepped forward slowly, a frown on his lips as he made his way through the parting crowd. He stopped at the base of your pyre, flames of the torch flickering in the wind as he stared at the ground. You had helped his wife deliver their firstborn child only the year before, both mother and babe alive with your help.

“It’s not right,” he muttered, fists clenching at his sides. “It’s not fair.”

You grimaced and blew out a breath slowly.

“I know,” you whispered back to him. “But you do what you must.”

He glanced up at you, a sheen to his eyes that wasn’t there before. You stared at each other for a long moment until finally, his lips pressing tight with a firm nod. He turned back towards the magistrate, waiting for his queue. The magistrate dipped his head, raising a hand in permission. The executioner squared his shoulders, turning to you once more, and with a slight tremor in his hands, he lowered the torch down to the bundle of sticks at your feet.

“May God have mercy on your soul,” the magistrate called, rolling the paper up in his withered grip. You sucked in a sharp breath, your heartbeat thundering away in your chest as the flames grew to surround you from all sides. You would not show fear. You would show your strength to these people who would see you die.

Smoke began to billow, and the embers burned at the back of your throat, causing a choking cough to spill out past your lips. The heat was already uncomfortable, and your head grew dizzy from the combination of licking flame and choking smog.

“No!”

You looked up, your heart sinking in your chest as a familiar flash of blond streaked through the crowd. He shouldn’t be there, it wasn’t safe. A sob escaped you unbidden, tears licking at your eyes as you watched him race towards you. Several guards stopped his path, pushing him back towards the crowd, and he stumbled for a moment before righting himself. He glared at the guards, stomping up towards them with malice clear in his eyes.

“Let me through,” he barked, fists clenched at his sides. “Let her go. She’s done nothing wrong!”

Another sob wracked through you, the magistrate’s voice an echo in your ears.

“She’s a witch, boy,” he snarled. “She’s bewitched you. Her death will free you, rest assured.”

“No!” He shouted, rushing forward, skin flushed with exertion. You felt despair rip through you, your arms aching to reach out to him, to tell him that everything would be okay. Green eyes met yours, emotions swirling in their depths as you offered him a weak smile.

Your head grew dizzy as you breathed in more of the smoke. You hissed as the flames made their rapid ascent up towards you, licking the tips of your toes. You closed your eyes, letting your head drift back to hit against the post. Your head lolled to one side, another sob tearing through you as the flames grew bigger, bolder.

A menacing sensation crawled through you, and you brought your head forward once more, peeling your eyes open to meet sinister blue from the depths of the crowd. Her golden hair was hidden beneath her cloak, a mocking smirk on her face as she stared at you. Anger replaced despair as you looked at her, your body lurching forward as you snarled in rage.

“You!” You shouted, murmurs of confusion following your outburst. It was her fault you were here. Her betrayal of her own kind. And for what? Her own envy? Her lust?

“May your hatred and envy be the makings of your undoing,” you spat, a familiar surge of power rising through you as you spoke. You could barely get the words out before the flames began to overtake you. You cried out at the excruciating pain, shuffling your feet back as far as you could in a bid to escape the roaring flames. Your eyes searched wildly, your vision blurring at the edges as the smoke grew thicker and thicker. Finally, you found what you were looking for, and your heart ached for him.

“I love you,” you sobbed, a scream tearing through your throat as the flames finally cornered you.

Screams were all you heard before succumbing to darkness.

A/N: And here it is! Just in time for spooky season!! I'm super excited to work on this one, and here's hoping I'll be able to work on it a fair amount over the next month. I'm not sure when I'll have Chapter One out, I'm still working some parts of the story out, but I'm excited still to share it with you all!! Let me know what you think!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, ch. 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police officer!reader

Genre: angst, humour and some fluff, investigative, dark themes, sloooooowburn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Chapter summary: As a new addition to the organized crime unit after a huge corruption scandal burnt through it, it definitely wasn't easy to seamlessly fill in and join the team. Tasked with menial shit and kept away from the actual investigation, my patience ran out after meeting the one man the unit was after, Min Yoongi, thus leading me to getting myself involved with one of the most dangerous men in the whole of Korea.

Everything is fair in love and war, isn't it? And this was war.

I would take him down, no matter what.

Word count: cca 26k

Warnings: reader is somewhat innocent and naive (in a sense that she's very idealistic), there will be brief reader x OC, but worry not, Yoongi is endgame, nothing much here, workplace sexism, some slight discussion of illegal stuff, description of the boys as criminals, reader is just a tiny bit obssesed with taking Yoongi down, some slight stalking (illegal tailing and stake out)

Series masterlist | Next Part

A/N: welcome to the first chapter of my new series! i have a ridiculously soft spot for mafia yoongi fics, so this is a child of me watching daechwita and haegeum too many times drooling over min yoongi himself, i hope that you stay with me throughout the entire ride and enjoy yourself as much as i did when writing this <3 i will attempt to update this every month, the semester is starting soon again but i'll be having less classes so i should be able to do it, take this love letter to long-haired yoongi <3

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Winter, first year in the force

“Minjoon, for fuck’s sake! Move it!” the booming voice of Senior Inspector Park rang out through the station as the poor man in question scrambled to put on his jacket, grab his badge and gun and ran after him. When he was passing by my table, he sent me a little sympathetic smile and then hurried to catch up to our superior before he left to make the arrest without him.

I sighed heavily and then sulkily returned to filing away some old hand-written cases. It’s been 3 months since I’d been assigned to the Organised crime unit, fresh out of academy and full of hope to change the world for the better. The second I got my badge I sent in my application to SMPA, hoping to make it to violent crimes. Instead, I was pushed to this division. The official reason was because they were lacking manpower, which wasn’t exactly wrong, after what happened. But I knew what they were really trying to do – clean up after a huge scandal that broke through this unit just a few months before my joining, when several young policemen were caught tampering with evidence and reselling confiscated drugs. After a few tough rounds of investigation, three men were fired from this unit and several others from affiliated places.

That meant that when I walked through the door, all rosy cheeked and wonder eyed, excited to start my career, the reception was more than icy. Senior Inspector Park, who was in charge, barely ever spoke to me except for barking out orders, and I was almost never allowed to do any actual work, always confined to the office and left with tasks that no one else wanted to do. My colleagues were ranging from cold and reserved to actual full-blown assholes, happy to take advantage of young blood knowing I couldn’t say anything in return to my seniors. Except for Minjoon, who actually made effort to be cordial, everyone in this hellhole was insufferable. Thus, I pissed away my days filling out forms, cleaning out cabinets, cataloguing files and putting old files into the system.

I looked wistfully out of the window and just caught the sight of our team’s van leaving the parking lot of the station. It was an arrest pertaining to our current leading objective – an informant was finally able to gather enough evidence for us to be able to interview one of the higher standing members of a gang this unit was currently focusing on. They knew we most probably wouldn’t be able to keep him long, after all it wasn’t that substantial at all and his boss always found a way out of any arrests, but it was better than nothing – we’d annoy him at the very least. That’s what Park always said anyways – never let them forget you’re hot on their trail, even if it meant being a little petty.

I walked over to my computer and sat down. All I could do was wait.

It was a surprisingly short amount of time until Senior Inspector Park came barrelling through the door with three men hot on his tail dragging a tall, handcuffed man with them. Unlike what you’d expect from an arrested man, he had a serene expression on his handsome face to a point he almost looked smug, lazily walking and letting himself get pushed around by eager officers, not a hair out of place and his expensive suit looking absolutely pristine.

They briskly walked through the office space to the back hallway where the interrogation rooms were situated, not sparing a single glance to anyone still sitting by their computers. By the disinterested short glances of the present colleagues, it was obvious that this wasn’t that unusual here. I myself was a witness of similar arrests of members from this gang, but this was my first time seeing someone this high up. This wasn’t just anyone. It was Kim Namjoon.

With careful peeking around to see if anyone was looking my way, I made sure the coast was clear, and then curiously moved after them into the hallway. I walked to the very back and lingered for a moment by the door, gathering courage, before grasping the handle and confidently walking into the listening room. Park was sitting there with a senior detective by his side, watching as Minjoon and his partner prepared the computer to start their interrogation while Mr. Kim sat there looking bored. Park looked to the door and did a double take when he noticed it was me. A disapproving look etched itself onto his face and he was just about to say something when I beat him to it.

“Please, sir! I’d never been able to watch my colleagues during interrogations, I want to learn,” I pleaded with him, “I’ll be totally quiet, you won’t even know I’m here!” I clasped my hands together in a praying motion and gave him my best puppy eyes. He looked at me and it almost seemed as if he was considering my words, but then his face closed off again. My heart was beating against my chest as I waited for him to shut me down.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” he asked, and displeasure oozed out of him in suffocating waves. I shook my head. “I was just putting the files I’d been working on away when you returned.” He was just about to speak again when Minjoon in the other room suddenly cleared his throat and began talking to the eerily calm man, asking him basic questions about his personal information and occupation. That sufficiently claimed Park’s attention and he just waved at me and said “whatever, just be quiet”. I bowed to him even though his back was already turned to me but didn’t even dare to mutter a thank you in fear he’d throw me out for speaking.

When I was first assigned to this department, I was warned that this particular unit unfortunately was a sausage party – no female officers in sight. While my colleague’s distaste of me never really felt overtly sexist, I knew some of them doubted my capabilities as a female detective, and Park was definitely one of them. He didn’t shy away from speaking out about how he’d always worked only with men and male officers and how a woman in a unit full of men would only bring trouble and unnecessary drama. He never got over the fact that they pushed me on him and didn’t listen to his bullshit.

 While none of them ever asked me to make them coffee or bring them lunch, I knew that they kept me occupied with work that they viewed as “softer” and “more suited for a woman”. It infuriated me to no end, but I just needed an opportunity to showcase my skills. I didn’t need their approval; I just wanted to fully do my job and not be stuck at a desk all day.

I knew one day I’d get that. No matter what it took, I would make it happen.

I was brought out of my reverie by a shockingly deep voice that struck me to my core as I was wholly unprepared for it. Kim Namjoon, who was completely silent until now and only nodded along or hummed, had finally started talking. I didn’t catch the question and I barely made out what Mr. Kim said in answer, but my attention zeroed in on him in a second and refused to let go. I knew who he was very well, after all, his picture along with several others was hanging on our wall in the meeting room, all connected to each other with strings, intel and many, many cases we were trying to push against them. I’d see him every morning when I walked in, every time I went to the toilet or for lunch and every evening when I was leaving.

But in his picture, he looked very different – hostile and angry, with a face full of fresh bruises from a recent fight, miles away from the suave self-assured man currently occupying the room in front of us. He had a domineering aura to him and even if he was supposed to be here as a suspect, he gave off the vibe like he wanted to be here more than anywhere else. In a sick twisted way, he fascinated me to no end. I’d seen mobsters before, petty thieves and drug dealers, tatted up, with foul mouths and hands dirtied by crime, but this man was a whole different class with his sharp eyes and sneering mouth, dangerous in a way that made the hair on my arms stand up. He knew how to mask his violence and that made him even more terrifying.

“I see that you have a law degree,” said Minjoon cooly and I saw Mr. Kim subtly roll his eyes, “Is the work you do for him pertaining to that?”

“We talk about this every time we see each other,” he answered coldly, “You know I have a degree. You also know that I currently work in accounting. You have my file memorised to a point that you probably know my measurements better than I do. Let’s not waste time with pointless bullshit.”

“Accounting is a very broad concept,” Minjoon didn’t let himself be intimidated and matched his indifferent attitude, “I want to know what exactly your line of work is.” Mr. Kim looked at him and put on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sorry, officer, what is my arrest pertaining to exactly? Why are these questions relevant to whatever you brought me here for?” he said in a professional voice, his eyes glinting in challenge.

I stayed there and watched their back and forth for whole two hours. The whole time Minjoon drove hard questions about the exact nature of Mr. Kim’s work while the said man played hot and cold with him, teasing him with little remarks and then returning to cold professionalism or prolonged periods of confident silence. I learnt that the intel they’d been delivered this morning was a vague allusion to certain tactics of tax evasion that were closely related to his boss’s smuggling activities. But all these were easily deconstructed by Mr. Kim in a matter of seconds.

It seemed that everyone involved (even Mr. Kim himself) already knew that though and judging by Park’s intense focus on Mr. Kim’s mannerisms and speech, this was about something completely different. As I found myself splitting my attention between the lawyer’s fascinating dance and my own superior’s complete interest, I realised that he was studying him. He was learning him. And for the first time, since this was the first time I saw him in action, I felt real respect towards the older man and his dedication to his work. This wasn’t even about being annoying, it was a purely academic endeavour. I found myself lightly laughing at the revelation.

Behind the glass Mr. Kim was running the two officers in circles, never surrendering any new information and only regurgitating bits and pieces we already knew in different context, and I could see how exhausted Minjoon was becoming.

I was stepping around by the door, alleviating a certain leg to ease the pain and discomfort of standing for such a long time, also nearing my limit, when Park leaned closer to the mic, pressed the button and said: “take a 10, let’s talk”. Hearing that, Minjoon and his partner stood up and with unfriendly smiles thanked the clever lawyer for his cooperation. They left the room and in a minute they were pushing into the listening room.

When Minjoon stepped in and saw me, he looked surprised for a split second and then gave me a kind smile, which I returned, while his partner stared rather impolitely. Park didn’t pay attention to any of that, eyes never leaving the sole man in the interrogation room, who was now leaning back on the chair and picking his nails in a bored manner.

“As expected, as a lawyer he’s skilled at this,” Park muttered, “What a talented prick, if we didn’t know it already, I bet we wouldn’t be able to get even his name out of him.” The officer sitting next to him finally spoke for the first time.

“Still,” he argued, “this is the first time we’ve managed to actually get him to the station. It means something. Min’s gonna be pissed.” At the mention of the name, Park smiled animatedly and nodded quite happily. I tried to blend into the wall while I watched the men converse and try to come up with a new strategy.

“It’s clear questioning him leads nowhere,” Minjoon added to the convo, “He doesn’t even seem bothered by it. Just look at him. He has all the patience and time in the world.” He motioned to the glass and the man sitting calmly behind it.

“I’m not surprised, he’s had years of experience dodging the police like this. Fucker’s barely thirty and yet has already spent more than a decade covering up his boss’s mess. That’s more than I’ve spent in academy and the force combined.” We all turned to look at Minjoon’s partner, officer Hwang, who was dispiritedly leaning on the doorframe. He was right, but Park didn’t seem to be put off by that.

“That’s how it works here in this unit,” he said firmly, “You sometimes spend years just to get a chance at arresting someone. We’ve been working on this for almost a year and we’re already starting to get somewhere, but this is only the beginning. We need to learn how they work and that takes time.” No matter what my personal opinion was on him, I could see that Park was truly an experienced detective when it came to organised crime. I made a mental note to myself to pay attention to what he says carefully and learn.

They talked for a little while longer when suddenly a commotion was heard back in the office space of the station. We all looked at each other, some more surprised than others. Park got up and pushed his way out into the hallway. As he was passing me, I heard him quietly mutter “here we go” as if this was the main point of the evening. And I quickly realised why.

When I also pushed my way into the hallway and peeked over Minjoon’s shoulder, I was able to see a man confidently making his way through the station flagged by two others. Before I had a chance to gasp at the sudden appearance, he’d already stormed all the way to us.

Just like with Kim Namjoon, seeing his face on a picture on our wall every day could never prepare me for the experience that meeting Min Yoongi was. I was beginning to curse the people who chose the pictures, because they were clearly dangerously understating these men’s aura. With longer black wavy hair, sleek black jacket, black tee and ripped jeans, standing there looking both incredibly angry and incredibly bored, was one of the most dangerous men in this city and the man Kim Namjoon called master. As did half of the city’s criminals. To an ordinary person he was just a businessman, an owner of a few clubs and, recently added, a hotel in the posher area of Seoul, but to us he was a leader of a gang that rose in power and ranks so rapidly it was like witnessing a wildfire. The blink-and-half-the-forest-is-gone kind.

I’d never met him before, and judging by officer’s Hwang flabbergasted expression, I wasn’t the only one, but the man in question barely paid any of us attention. He walked up to Park as if they were old friends, cruel annoyed smile on his face.

“Here I am!” he proclaimed in a faux sweet voice and threw his hands into the air, “That what you wanted? You come into my house and steal my things when I’m not looking now?” Park returned his smile in a similar manner. He was extremely pleased at having pissed off the man to this extent.

“Mr. Kim was lawfully retained due to suspicions of illegal activity,” he answered the man, “He was arrested in one of your clubs.” Min Yoongi’s eyes minutely flitted over to me and there was a tiny spark of surprise and then interest.

“Huh, you’ve got fresh blood here?” he asked all jokes and games, “How come I’ve never met her, isn’t that like a rite of passage here? Coming to see Uncle Yoongi?” He waved at me and laughed like he was encountering a cute animal in the wild. I felt the anger coursing through me, but I knew this wasn’t the situation to lose my cool, so I just scoffed and turned away from him. He fake pouted and then put his attention back on my senior, suddenly turning all serious again. Watching his moods swing was like trying to keep up with a bouncy ball in an empty room.

“Whatever, just release my man,” he said firmly, “You know that anything you came up with to get him here is bogus, so just let him go and I’ll let this slide.”

“How gracious of you,” Park gritted through his teeth. Tensions were beginning to brew between them, and the more annoyed Min Yoongi was, the more teeth showed in his wolfish grin. Just when I thought the whole building was just going to combust, Minjoon stepped in.

“We are legally allowed to keep him here for eight hours at the minimum,” he said calmly, “It’s only been two and a half.” The man’s whole attention shifted to my colleague and, standing behind him, I saw how all-consuming it was to be at the centre of Min Yoongi’s focus. His intense stare and dangerous smile only deepened having noticed just how much he was throwing me off balance. I knew he was getting off on intimidating people and I tried to not give him the satisfaction, but suddenly coming face to face with him, I wasn’t prepared to withstand it, especially since he was so intimately familiar with our entire force that a new face stuck out to him like a sore thumb.

“I know that,” he retorted sharply, “But he wasn’t brought here to be questioned. He was brought here because he-“ Yoongi pointed in Park’s direction “-wanted to know how long before I showed up to bail him out. So, here I am. Release him.” Minjoon looked at our superior with questioning eyes, but he only nodded.

“Let Mr. Kim go, we got everything we needed from him,” he smiled pleasantly in Min Yoongi’s direction, “Have a nice day Mr. Min.” With that he moved back into the office. Mr. Min’s attention once again shifted to me and Minjoon, watching with rapt interest as he moved towards the interrogation room, and I followed him like a loyal shadow. The moment the door opened, Mr. Kim was already hallway outside, coming to his boss and giving him a half hug. Neither of them said anything, they just shared an amused smile at our expense and then turned around to leave with cheeky smiles. As Min Yoongi was rounding the corner, he winked my way. Absolutely flabbergasted by his behaviour, I couldn’t get the encounter out of my head for the entire rest of the day.

While much of Min Yoongi’s childhood was a mystery to us, we had a pretty good idea of what his life was like since around he was 16. So, a good decade of criminal life. As a young teen, he started an apprenticeship as an underling of one of the former ruling gang’s top men, and basically was brought up by him into the man he was today. While the old royalty was torn apart in succession wars after the old master died and his four sons all decided they should be the sole heir, Min Yoongi started up with his own few loyal followers, all who today are his most trusted closest subordinates. With cruelty, tenacity and violence, he took the city by the storm and before they knew it, he was ruling most of it. Too caught up in trying to kill each other, neither of them reacted fast enough to stop young Yoongi’s rise to power. Today, with the original gang wiped out, his was undoubtedly the one at the top of the food chain.

He started with one club and now he owned several of the most prestigious clubs in the city, making enough money to buy him a hotel and finally catapult him into the sphere of honest business. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid of me to show up to one of them to “scope it out”.

Peeved by our last (and first) interaction and driven by the need to prove myself to my unit, I’d decided that the way to go was start right on his turf and dig around. I’d believed that with how much business he had to take care of, both legal and not, there’s no way I’d show up at the right club at the right time to actually meet him there. How foolish. They did always say that he stayed at the top by working endlessly, stupid of me to not actually take that into account.

I didn’t even know how I managed to actually get into the club, considering the long waiting list and lines outside, it was a miracle one Friday evening I found myself sitting inside Dynamite, one of his clubs, watching everything go on like a hawk.

I knew this was something that was rarely accomplished by the people in our unit. Maybe a few months ago they had the liberty to sneak onto his territory, but currently he knew very well about our interest in him, and everyone associated with our unit quickly got blacklisted from half the establishments around the area, owned by Yoongi or not.

I knew that anything pertaining to illegal activity would definitely be taking place in the VIP zone with private booths and waiters, so getting there was the actual challenge. Somewhat foolishly I decided to just try my luck and think of the plan as it went. Little did I know just how easily I’d manage to get invited in.

I was just sitting there minding my own business when I felt a presence next to me. At first, I thought nothing of it, thinking they’re probably just trying to catch the barman’s attention, but suddenly I felt them press into my personal space. I sighed, annoyed, turning around to send whatever sleazy flirt that was trying to get into my pants to hell, when my breath caught in my throat. Sitting next to me, leaning on the bar with a million-watt smile was none other than the owner himself. I cursed every god in existence and three generations of their ancestors and steeled myself for what was coming.

“Didn’t expect to see a police officer letting loose in one of my clubs,” he drawled out playfully, “They all know which ones to avoid. I suppose you’re either stupid or up to no good.” I rolled my eyes to him and turned back to look onto the dancefloor.

“My friend insisted we go here,” the lied slipped through my lips easily, but by Yoongi’s smirk I knew he didn’t believe me one bit. “Oh, and where does this friend happen to be right now? As far as I could see, you’ve been just sitting here glaring,” he laughed at me lightly, as if we were just two friends teasing each other.

“Do you have a habit of watching partygoers like a creep?” I bit back at him, annoyed at being sniffed out so quickly. What are even the chances of him being at this exact club the night I decided to snoop? Something not of God was on this man’s side to arrange a coincidence like that.

“No,” Yoongi answered with a teasing lilt, “But I do happen to remember faces very well. Two weeks ago, you’d slip right by me, but now I know you’re an officer.” I cursed under my breath, and he laughed again. Then he stood up and turned to me. Suddenly a hand was offered to me.

“Come on,” he said, this time a little more serious, “Let’s talk.” I ignored his hand but stood up to follow him. He snickered and started in the direction of the VIP zone. We were currently on the ground floor, which was the general area with a dance floor dominating the centre of the room. The VIP zone was situated on a little gallery overlooking the ground floor.

The flashing lights, bass boosted music and mass of moving sweaty bodies made it difficult to orientate myself in the space, but I kept my eyes on the back of Yoongi’s head as he leisurely made his way through the crowd like he had no worry in the world. He led me to stairs that were cordoned off by red velvet rope, with two very big and very angry men standing on each side. When they saw Yoongi coming near, they both put on professional smiles and bowed wordlessly. He didn’t react to them in any way, just waited till they let him through patiently. As I walked in behind him, they both stared me down as if I was about to jump on Yoongi and stab him right in front of them.

I knew this was probably my only and last chance to get a look around this place, since after being found out I’d definitely get blacklisted just like all the other police officers, so I hungrily scanned the VIP zone and tried to take in all the details. It was very dark there; some booths were out in the open while some had curtains and it was surprisingly packed with people. Waiters were busily buzzing around, serving drinks and appetizers, hum of conversations and laughter carried through the space comfortably. At first glance, you couldn’t see anything wrong or illegal going on, just young people having fun, but I knew better than to trust that.

I followed Yoongi through the area all the way to the back, where one corner was similarly cordoned off. The couches and tables were situated in a way that allowed a little more privacy and separated the space a little from the rest of the people. This must have been his personal lounge.

He made himself comfortable smack in the middle of one of the couches and I timidly sat on an armchair right across him, with a small table between us. Immediately waiters descended onto the space, bringing in plates of appetizers, most probably assuming all kinds of crazy shit since Yoongi brought a woman to his personal zone. The man in question was nonchalantly asking for some cocktail and acting as if this was a completely normal situation and I wasn’t the police. I declined his offer for alcohol and just uncomfortably sat there, watching him settle in.

He gestured to the food and said: “Do you mind if I dig in? I haven’t eaten the whole day.” I gave him a polite smile and told him to go ahead. Yoongi started filling his plate, sharp eyes watching my every move while offering me various food items with annoying courteousness, smirk in place on his lips cause he knew just how much he was pissing me off. It was absolutely crazy – here I was, small-talking with a man I was trying to get behind bars.

Then I had to sit there while he enjoyed himself with his appetizers. When the silence stretched enough to become awkward, I started losing my patience.

“Have you brought me here to watch you eat?” I barked out annoyed, crossing my arms in front of my chest and leaning back into the chair. He looked up from his plate with a little amused smirk. Then he finally put it down.

“Why exactly are you here, officer?” he got straight to the point, “What are you hoping to accomplish?” He mirrored me and leaned back into the couch, his form slouching comfortably with hands laying on his thighs.

“Isn’t that obvious?” I answered, sudden insecurity taking a hold of me. Why was I supposed to explain myself to this guy? He smiled and this time it wasn’t as ferocious.

“I fail to see how this helps in your divine plan to put me under.”

Truth is, I didn’t know either. I was angry and frustrated that nobody was taking me seriously, the encounter with him last week only serving to push me further over the edge. I didn’t know how this was supposed to help, I just knew I needed to do something. Anything. It was better than just endlessly sitting behind a computer typing away. I had to do something that would put me on the radar in my unit and if it involved humbling Min Yoongi a little bit, I was all in.

Truth was, no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I was shaken by him. Seeing in flesh this fabled monster, having him stare and smirk at me while he shamelessly strutted around a police station as if he was untouchable, it took everything in me to hold up under his scrutiny. But now, sitting across from him and returning him the favour, I felt some control slowly trickling back into my hands and it calmed me.

He was watching me contemplate with rapt attention and suddenly I was reminded of the prickly feeling of having his eyes trained solely on you. They were dark, so much darker than in the bright daylight in the middle of a police station, and all-consuming in a way I’d never encountered before. It felt as if he was reaching straight into the centre of my being and pulling, pulling something out of me. I shook my head subtly and looked away.

When I failed to answer him or defend myself, he sighed.

“Look, I’m saying this, because you seem like a really naïve genuine person,” he started, “Take this advice to heart – don’t bite off more than you can chew just to stick it to some old guy. This is a dangerous place for people like you, don’t get pulled under.” Now that made me angry. Somewhere deep down I realised that my stubbornness actually was putting me in danger and that I was stupidly jumping headfirst into things that could be my end, but I was so done with getting treated as a fragile little thing.

“Whatever do you mean by that?” I answered him prickly and sat more defensively. Yoongi looked at me and for a moment I could see a glint of something almost melancholic there, but then he was all wild grins and suave demeanour again.

“Let me speak frankly for a moment,” he said and winked conspiratorially, “You decided to single-handedly take down a whole gang, allegedly, that controls half the city, allegedly, because your superior is a sexist pig, that doesn’t seem like biting off more than you can chew to you?” Every time he said the word “allegedly” he smirked a little and I could see he was having fun playing around with me like this. I smirked right back at him and leaned forward until I had my elbows resting on my knees.

“Who said anything about single-handedly? That’s what teams are for,” I whispered teasingly, “Why do you even assume it has anything to do with Senior Inspector Park?” I tried to mask the genuine emotion, but he still must have realised that one was actually spot-on.

“I’ve known Park for quite some time,” he explained and leaned forward as well, “Heard about him a long time ago, been seeing him here and there for years and then been in personal contact with him for about a year now. He’s an excellent policeman, no doubt about it, but even I know he’s a shit person. He lives for his work, but in personal life he’s a jerk.”

“He’s a jerk at work too,” I couldn’t help myself and muttered. To that Yoongi laughed lightly, eyes gleaming at me. “Should I be asking how you even know about his behaviour outside of work?” I quipped in quickly.

“I’d be stupid if I didn’t run some basic checks on people that are hell-bent on making my life difficult,” he answered me with a dangerous glint in his eyes, but quickly relaxed again. I found myself tensing up and relaxing alongside with him. The realisation that talking with him was like constantly walking on ice and hoping that even though you hear cracks you won’t fall in, hit me square in the face and put me off balance again. He kept effortlessly flip-flopping between joking and being serious and I was starting to get whiplash from it. I decided to leave this subject behind.

“So, what is your advice exactly?” I returned to the previous topic, “To just let you go and leave you to your little crime syndicate? Live happily ever after knowing you’re out there?” He snickered at that.

“No, you can do whatever you want,” he said, “I’m just warning you to be careful. This, this space right here, it has its own rules. It’s very easy to end up badly.” It didn’t feel like a threat even though it may have been worded like one, imagine my shock when I recognised actual genuine emotion behind his words. Instead of shying away from it, I bored my eyes into him just as intensely as he did to me.

“Rules or no rules, no one is above the law, not even you, Mr. Min,” I told him prickly. He smiled at me sardonically and then sighed again, but this time it was more amused.

“Since you’re someone that spent most of their life studying the law, I’m surprised you still haven’t realised that it’s quite useless,” he laughed and I could see the switch in him, becoming meaner and smiling cruelly, “The only thing that law does is fuck over those who are already in a bad place and benefit those who are already in a good spot.” He laughed mirthlessly and continued. “No one is above the law? Oh, my dear, many people are above the law. All you need is money and power and not even God can touch you on this mortal plane.” I took full offense to his words, feeling the anger overpower my instinct trying to tell me this man could potentially be extremely dangerous.

“Spoken like a true criminal,” I spit out venomously, “That’s a load of bull.” Yoongi’s eyes flashed minutely and then he relaxed into the couch again with a lazy smirk full of sharp edge. His hand suddenly pointed somewhere behind me. “You see that guy? That one in the striped shirt?” he asked.

For a moment I debated whether I should turn my back to him or not, but my curiosity overpowered me. Steeling myself for potentially getting attacked from behind, I turned and searched in the crowd of people. There, a little to my left, was sitting a group of young men. Each of them had a girl or two by their side, they drank and laughed and looked exactly like the kind of company I’d never want to find myself in. One of them, sitting on the far edge of the couch facing me, was wearing a horrible unfashionable striped shirt. I turned back to Yoongi with a queasy stomach.

“Yeah, I think I see him,” I told him suddenly quietly, unsure of where the conversation was going. Yoongi leaned forward to me again as if he was about to tell me a great secret.

“He could walk over here, steal your gun, then walk outside and shoot someone straight between their eyes in front of a street full of people, and you wouldn’t be able to charge him with anything. You wanna know why? His father sits in the parliament. Before you knew it, he’d be skiing in the Alps while you faced losing your badge because you crossed a politician.” Yoongi smiled at me triumphantly and my stomach swooped again.

“This kid comes here four times a week, each night breaking at least five different laws at a time,” Yoongi continued meanly, “and the most trouble he’s ever gotten into with the law was a parking ticket his father took care of for him.” He waited for a moment to see whether I’d react, but when I stayed silent, he went on. “Go ahead and arrest him, officer. Go over there and pull out your badge and bring him into the station with you. If you test him now, you’ll probably find every drug that’s available on the street in his system. But I guarantee you, you won’t be able to keep him there longer than two hours before you’ll be steam-rolled by his family’s lawyers.” He threw his arms into the air in a pompous gesture.

“Look around here. This place, it doesn’t work because I came here and brought crime with me, no. I sprung up here, because they needed a space to do rank shit in. You could bring me out back, shoot me in the head execution style, and tomorrow you’d be sitting back in that chair talking to the same clown in different clothes. The way this goes is that you find a spot that works, and you grab onto it, and you hold on for dear life until someone either kills you or puts you away. I’m like mold, darling, wherever there’s a place damp, cold and dark enough, there I will grow. I’m a product of the people. Not the other way around.” I felt bile in my mouth as I looked around the area and saw the little evidence of illegal activities. Girls too scantily clad and flirty to not be working, powdery smudges on the tables, prints of guns under jackets. Behind me, Yoongi kept going on in his spiel.

“You put me behind bars, and tomorrow there’s going to be the same guy doing the same shit in the same place. The people will keep coming here and they will keep doing their thing here, it doesn’t matter to them who runs it, as long as they can fuck and get high in here.”

I turned back to him, and he was just sitting there like a king of the underworld, sardonic grin on his face while he looked over his hard work. He was beautiful and terrifying at the same time and there was something demonic about him in this dark lightning with shadows dancing over his face and cruel lips curved around sharp teeth. I felt my throat close up as panic seized me, shaking hands gripping onto the armchair to attempt and get some stability. My stomach was protesting, and I feared I might throw up if I stayed there a second longer.

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered. He smirked.

“And you’re naïve.”

I got up, turned around and left without looking back. Still, I felt his eyes burning into me all the way home.

I was soullessly staring into the computer, hopelessly trying to focus on my work, but instead I kept coming up short. My mind was elsewhere, unable to comprehend anything that was written in front of me. The fateful meeting with Yoongi had already happened a few days ago, but I still haven’t shaken off the effect of it.

His words, as cruel and self-righteous as they were, I knew there was truth to them. And I knew I had to do something about it. I had to do something about Min fucking Yoongi and his empire. So, as shaken as I was by the encounter, it also served to make me more determined. I’d help to bring him down, no matter what.

I stood up from my table and made my way across the office to the meeting room. I wouldn’t be able to do any work anyway, not right now when I was too pumped with adrenaline to focus on anything. I walked in and bee-lined for the back wall, which was covered in pictures and papers. Dominating in the centre was a picture of Yoongi. He was younger there, with short, bleached hair and face still a little plump from adolescence, but I could already see the signature smirk forming on his lips. Under him there were six more pictures, one of them Kim Namjoon which I had met for the first time a little over a week ago. Those were those closest to him, his friends who each monitored a different part of the gang’s activites.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much information on them beyond a few years back. Yoongi himself emerged out of nowhere when he was 16 and made a dent out for himself. At that time, he already knew Namjoon, God knows how. Together they quickly climbed the ranks of the Song gang, which was ruling over Seoul at that time. Back then, they were already notoriously known for their violence and determination, which made them favourites of the gang’s higher ups. They were also quite liked by the underdogs and quickly a group started forming around them. They were Yoongi’s loyalists and this… this was most likely the moment he realised he can soar even higher.

When the Song gang was falling apart, just like war strategy dictates, it was a matter of knowing whose side to take. Between four sons, two were on par, one knew he could only survive by hugging the thigh of the strongest and one was barely hanging on. If Yoongi chose his loyalties correctly, he could gain a lot. If he chose poorly…

But he didn’t. He took Namjoon and their dogs and together they stormed an “enemy” club – it was recently acquired by one of the brothers. He won the fight of course, and then brought the keys to Song Hwan, the weaker of the two winning brothers. He wormed his way in – offered his intel, his expertise and whispered poison in his ear. Every win he got for Hwan was actually a win for Yoongi himself and through Hwan he started laying base for his own road to power. Long before Hwan fell, most of the gang was already following Yoongi’s lead.

When the war ended and Song Hwan stood victorious, Yoongi murdered him and stole his throne. He went on a bloody rampage against everyone that didn’t support him and from the blood and fire emerged a new gang, a stronger gang, and at its centre – the devil himself with his six. That was seven years ago.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses at the beginning though. His territory was contended often – others saw it as an opportunity to steal turf right from under his nose, and it took a long time before his gang was respected in the scene. They thought him to be a child that won by pure luck and love for killing, that he’d be easily taken down, either by one of them or one of his own. But he stood his ground and time and time again he proved himself, until there wasn’t a single person in this city that didn’t know he owned it. These were Min Yoongi’s streets, painted with blood, sweat and tears.

That’s when he started coming up on this unit’s radar until he gradually became the sole focus, the main purpose, the goal.

I stared intently at the mess of strings all connecting together people, events, news and crimes. Missing persons, corruption, arrests, murders, intel, dirt. It was all there, black on white. I reread the headers of the articles, the names of files and the accusations until I was dizzy and could barely make any sense of it.

After what felt like hours, I was brought out of my reverie by the sound of the door opening. I jumped a little and turned around quickly, an excuse hot on my tongue, but relaxed once I realised it was Minjoon.

“What’s up? Jae said you’ve been standing here just staring at the wall for whole 40 minutes,” he said in lieu of greeting and I blushed with embarrassment. So they saw me, I thought nobody here was paying attention to me. I peeked over my shoulder where some of our colleagues were curiously glancing our way. I frowned. Should have closed the blinds, I thought to myself.

“Just… catching up, refreshing the information,” I explained lamely and sat down at the table, still with a perfect view of the cursed wall. He hummed and leaned his back on the table. For a moment we just quietly existed there, side by side studying it.

“What’s with the sudden interest?” he asked a little hesitantly, “Not that I want to discourage you.” I sighed.

“It’s not sudden,” I muttered a little petulantly, “I’ve been coming here from time to time, I just mostly did it when no one else could see. Felt like I wasn’t really allowed to look at it.” He smiled a little at my attitude and went around the table to sit at my side.

“Why not? I think it’s great you’re outwardly showing interest.”

“Just- You know, it doesn’t feel like I’m welcomed here, I didn’t want to overstep.” He hummed again, but kept his eyes trained in front of us.

“So, what’s changed now?” he asked the question of the hour, fingers drumming a pattern into the table.

“I’m done with that,” I said firmly, glancing his way, “I am part of this unit, I’m staying and I’m solving this fucking mystery. I’m taking Min Yoongi down and I’m gonna be looking straight in his eyes the entire time I’ll be tearing his life apart.” Minjoon next to me chuckled, amused by the sudden turn of attitude.

“That’s quite charming,” he hummed again and finally turned to look at me. We both grinned at each other.

“You know… I understand,” he started hesitantly after a moment of silence. We both focused back on the wall and Yoongi’s picture in the centre of it was like a magnet – no matter what you did, you found yourself drawn to it. With slight reluctance I tore my eyes away from it to look at Minjoon questioningly.

“I mean… this, I understand this,” he stated more firmly and gestured between me and the wall, “I was also quite distraught the first time I met him face to face. He has a way of messing with you. It’s a mix of everything, I mean, you go months hearing about the atrocities of this one man, and then suddenly he’s there, right in front of you. And he just stares and stares and stares while talking calmly, too calmly for the crimes that he’s being investigated for. It’s unnerving. So, I understand.”

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same feeling I had with Namjoon too – you know what they’re capable of, you’ve heard of their crimes and when you see them, you can almost feel the danger in the air, but the violence is hidden just beneath the surface. Sometimes you see it peek out momentarily in flashes of sharp teeth and slanting eyes, but then they reign it in and just play with you again.

“Well, yeah, meeting him was jarring,” I conveniently omitted having met him just a few days ago too, “but it’s not just about that. I just don’t want to be underestimated anymore.” He smiled at me, a real genuine smile, and it warmed me knowing at least someone here was on my side.

“But you joined the team before the whole Yoongi thing, no?” I asked suddenly. For a moment he was confused where this question came from, but then brightened up.

“Just barely,” he answered earnestly, “You joined like three months ago? In early September, right? For me, a one-year anniversary is actually coming up, I joined in December last year. It was just as all the shit was going down. They were investigating mainly this mid-size gang in Incheon that was wreaking havoc in the harbours and steadily rising in power. There was a lot of corruption in that area, and they managed to snatch control over some ports. The unit had been working on it for about two years and were super close to an arrest, but it went bust. The guy fled, a question about the corruption in the force rose and an investigation into our guys started. That’s when I joined.” I hummed in sympathy. That must have been extra rough. I told him as much and he gave me a thankful smile.

“It wasn’t easy. When I asked to be transferred, I thought everything in this department was okay, then I walk in and suddenly I’m in the middle of a botched two-year operation, forever lost suspect and a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Minjoon kept talking, “Within few weeks, the three guys had been suspended and a more in-depth investigation was promised. The case was lost, the boss had managed to flee somewhere south, most likely Malaysia, so it was put on a backburner and instead an open case that was sitting on someone’s table, slowly piling up more evidence, was brought forth. That was the Min gang. Two teams had already been tasked with looking into it and when it was confirmed that the previous case was dead, they made it a priority.”

I jumped in quickly to ask more questions. I’d never asked Minjoon about his time in the force before and till today I didn’t even know he was here only a year. He was always Park’s first choice to everything concerning Min Yoongi and he relied on Minjoon and his partner Hwang a lot, so I assumed he must be one of the more experienced members of this unit.

“Where were you stationed before?” I asked curiously and put my attention on him instead of messing with the wall.

“I was part of the drug prevention team,” Minjoon clarified and gave me a grin, “I was one of those fools they dress up nicely and send into schools to warn kids. It’s still a part of the force, but it’s a dead-end spot and you don’t actually do much, at most you here and there deal with some petty criminals selling weed on the street. It’s usually where older policemen go when they want to have some peace and quiet before retirement, it’s not the best place to start your career. But thanks to that I was able to make it here, cause my expertise on illicit substances was a big plus.”

“I see,” I laughed, “You’re right, that is pretty much a dead end. I didn’t even know they assigned youngsters there.”

“Well, they try to, because kids are nicer to them and they take it easier from someone closer to their age,” he explained, “Some graduates actually do ask for the position, but I was trying to get here and didn’t make the cut.” He was still smiling kindly and occupied himself by playing with the string on his hoodie.

“I was actually trying for the violent crimes unit,” I confessed quietly. I’d never told that to anyone here. Besides the fact that they absolutely weren’t interested in such information, I was also kind of scared they’d be acting even more hostile since I “clearly didn’t even want to be here”. “I got sent here because of understaffing problem,” I continued.

He looked at me and didn’t react in any way, just leaned back and said: “Oh yeah, we do work with them quite often. Can’t have organised crime without violent crime. If you survive it here for some time and make a little name for yourself, I’m sure it would be easier for you to transfer. But a lot of people strive for violent crimes, so it’s kinda cutthroat to get there.” I relaxed at his words and finally smiled back fully.

“Yeah, maybe I could make it there if I help with Yoongi,” I muttered and focused back on the wall, “I’m sure, considering his reputation, that violent crimes have their hands full with him.” Minjoon stood up and walked over to it. He raised his hand softly tapped on a poster of a missing man.

“Actually, unfortunately it’s more about missing people,” he said, “He has a great clean-up team, it’s super messed up.” His hand moved downwards and this time he tapped on a picture of two men. “You know these guys?” he asked absentmindedly.

On the photo, there were two incredibly familiar faces. One man a bit taller, with wide shoulders, dressed in a nice suit, his perfectly sculpted face in a neutral expression and framed by light brown hair. By his side there was the second man – a bit shorter but with much fiercer displeased expression. His hair was cut into a mullet and the hair just about touched his shoulders; he was clad in a fitted black turtleneck that gave away his strong lean muscles.

Of course I knew them. In this whole building there most probably wasn’t anyone who didn’t know them. Actually, I’d argue that in this entire city only a few people had the pleasure of not knowing.

“I’d be an embarrassment of a police officer if I didn’t,” I joked at him, “It’s Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok, they’re part of Min’s six.” Minjoon smiled approvingly.

“Tell me everything you know about them,” he challenged, teasing, “Shoot.” I gave him a wolfish grin as excitement coursed through me. He was giving me a chance to show I’d really been studying this case. I sat on the table and made myself comfortable.

“Kim Seokjin studied medicine and has a degree. He poses as the main seven’s personal physician, but the assumption is that he most probably deals with all wounds of anyone from the gang that were sustained during any illegal activities that cannot be taken into hospital. He owns a house up in Gangnam, just a few streets from Yoongi himself, and has a clinic there. He’s the second son of a pretty wealthy family, his record’s completely clear and it’s unknown how exactly he came to know Yoongi or became involved with crime.” I looked at Minjoon from the corner of my eye and he was just humming, but there was a pleased smile on his face. That gave me courage to continue.

“Jung Hoseok on the other hand, has been arrested several times for assault or causing bodily harm while getting into fights, but never prosecuted. Then he went off radar only to reappear a few years later as a part of illegal fighting rings. He quickly rose through the ranks and was a champion for three years straight. But that also means he most probably killed a lot of people, since these fights only end when one of the two fighters drops dead. It’s presumed that’s where he met Yoongi and became familiar with him.”

Minjoon nodded along and patted my shoulder. “Good job, newbie, you really did spend ungodly amount of time here,” he joked, but I felt the praise anyways. My cheeks heated up and I couldn’t help but feel intense satisfaction.

“It’s mainly Hoseok that’s in charge of clean-up, but Jungkook also participates. They do both clean-up of unwanted people and clean-up of unwanted evidence. Sometimes those two cross over. In other words, they both murder and get rid of it,” Minjoon spoke, his face serious, “I mean, that’s our theory anyways. If we were able to catch them murdering and disposing of a body, they’d already be rotting in jail. But the point stands – there’s a huge number of missing persons tied to this, mostly petty criminals or people known to be associated with enemy gangs. No bodies though.”

My eyes flitted to the picture of the mentioned younger man. Jungkook’s picture, for me, was really hard to look at, because unlike all the others, he was just a kid in his. It was an old photo, most likely taken from a yearbook, with his serious face still round and cheeks full of baby fat, dark hair cut short and styled neutral, but it still hit too hard. Especially when my eyes slid lower to a more recent photo, which depicted Jungkook standing on a balcony smoking, all hard edges on his emotionless face, long hair blowing around and blurring out his tatted-up fingers holding a cigarette and black shirt bulging with muscles. He was the youngest and it was also a mystery about how he became involved with Yoongi, the most we knew about him was that he came from a lower middle-class family and led an unproblematic school life as one of the top students. Where he met Yoongi, or even how he started to involve himself in illegal activities, no one except for them knew.

“The rest of them, as I’m sure you’re already well familiar with,” Minjoon continued talking, “are trying to look more legit. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin oversee some of his clubs and help him with the hotel and restaurants too. They try to seem like stand-up men with no ties to the underground to grant him an air of an honest man. And Namjoon, well, you’ve already met him. He’s in charge of the finances and that’s exactly where most of the crime is the most visible.” I nodded at him and gestured for him to continue.

“Yoongi’s smuggling in insane amounts of goods, everything from luxury items and artifacts to alcohol, exotic foods and ingredients, to drugs. He sells it to himself, supplies it to his own clubs and restaurants for dirt cheap and then makes crazy money on selling it to clients. If you ask for VIP treatment, you get it deluxe – you don’t have to lift a single finger, Yoongi supplies everything. You want a unicorn? He finds a way to smuggle it in. You ask, he delivers. Namjoon’s job is to make all this look legit, so that he can’t be busted.”

It was so much to take in, but I was finally starting to make sense in it all. Even though I’d been reading the files and trying to catch up on the happenings, there were things I was confused about, things that were lost in context or just lightly referenced without more information, and I had no way of fully understanding it until someone properly explained it to me and filled me in. I was waiting for it to happen in the first few weeks, even asked about it once, but I was shut down and quickly realised that no one was planning on talking to me about it. They rather kept me busy with petty stuff and didn’t let me get in on the operation. I was eternally grateful to Minjoon for taking the time to properly explain what they’ve been doing the past year.

“So that’s why you’re currently breathing down Namjoon’s neck,” I mused out loud, “You want in on whatever magic he’s working to make Yoongi appear as an honest businessman.” Minjoon nodded and added: “And that’s why Yoongi appeared immediately when we brought him in. Park wanted to get a feel of the man. See how he’d behave when interrogated and to test out how strong of a bond they have.” I hummed.

“They’re tight,” I stated, “And Namjoon’s impenetrable.”

We both sat there for a moment, taking in everything that’s been said. I was wracking my brain for a game plan. There had to be something I could do.

“Are you doing stake out missions?” I wondered. He looked at me a little surprised which quickly turned into embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were this much out of the loop,” he said quietly and rubbed the back of his neck. Now it was me who got embarrassed. I was about to stutter out some excuse or an apology, but he started talking again.

“Not currently no, there used to be some in the early stages, before Yoongi caught wind of the efforts. Now that he knows us and knows that we’re interested in him, it’s practically impossible to do stake out missions, unless you just want to annoy him and show him we're there. Not to mention it takes a lot of manpower which we do not have. We’re trying to crack down on the lower levels of the organisation. You know, take in some common mobsters selling substances, threaten them with a sentence and then try to get intel off of them. Some do agree to talk, but somehow Yoongi always manages to sniff them out and they don’t tend to end well. He has a tight hold on everything, despite the size of his empire. Mainly what we gathered is that he is an incredibly paranoid man, he most probably does very frequent inspections and doesn’t hesitate to get rid of anyone just slightly suspicious.”

“Well, in some way, it’s to be expected,” I pondered out loud, “A man that has accomplished this much, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s basically become omniscient.” Minjoon hummed in agreement and flicked some of the pictures around absent-mindedly.

“There was even an attempt to infiltrate,” he said quietly, “We did manage to get in, but it went bust pretty quickly.” I could feel it was definitely a sensitive subject and I didn’t want to pry, but the implication here was absolutely devastating.

“Did he…?” I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the question, but thankfully Minjoon understood. He smiled sadly, shook his head and said: “Thankfully not, but he did end up in a hospital for like two months. They messed him up. He didn’t even return to the force, wouldn’t be able to anyway due to some injuries. When I went with Park to confront Yoongi, he just straight up laughed in our face and told us we’d better feel grateful that he wasn’t interested in becoming a cop killer, because rats in his organisation usually end up much worse. It was the most we’d ever heard him admit out loud, but we didn’t even manage to record it or anything, we were too upset to think straight and missed an opportunity.” He sighed again. I was just glad that the officer ended up okay. At least Yoongi was aware that if he’d killed a cop, he’d become the most wanted man in the eyes of the entire force. There wouldn’t be a moment of rest for him.

Somewhere deep down I felt a little bit of shame though, because I did the same mistake just a few days ago. Yoongi didn’t end up saying anything even remotely that damning, but he still talked to me pretty openly.

I was just about to open my mouth to try and dispel the awkward silence that took over, but Park chose that moment to burst into the room loudly. He didn’t even spare us a glance, too focused on a folder in his hands. I’d jumped off the table in panic and straightened up, but he barely paid attention to anything else. Slowly our colleagues started filing in and taking seats. When after a while no one said anything about my presence, I sat down next to Minjoon, who gave me a reassuring smile.

Park closed the file and slammed in onto the table, then made his way over to the most interesting part of the room – the wall.

“Alright, emergency meeting,” he started, “we just got new info from violent crimes about the disappearance from two weeks ago.”

As I sat there and half listened to the information presented, a plan was starting to hatch in my head. Although Yoongi knew about me, could even pick me out from the crowd, I had to figure out a way to tail him. And when I did, I had to find out more about what Hoseok did. And where. And how. While my unit focused on Namjoon and worked from the bottom, I had to learn about the most criminal aspects of this gang to cover all the grounds. I had to catch a killer.

I’d never been on a stake out mission before. That was one of the few things they didn’t teach at the academy, and I had to figure it out all on my own, while trying to tail a man that probably knew even how many pieces of ham I put on my toast that morning (it’s always two).

Once I pulled information about Min Yoongi’s probable whereabouts, all I had to do was jump in my car and go find him, which was easier said than done. I’d decided to do this in my free time, since asking for the permission to tail him would most definitely not be met with much excitement in the department, especially since they themselves have given up on it.

Now, here I was, sitting in my car at 4 am on a Friday, intently watching a posh house in the middle of Gangnam, hoping that Yoongi is either already in there or soon to return. Since through my snooping I was left with several addresses all ranging from clubs, restaurants and a hotel through factories and warehouses to offices, I figured my best shot would be to catch him while leaving his house rather than running through half of the establishments in Seoul. I also pulled information on the other six, but quickly found out that we had working addresses only for like four of them, so no luck staking out Hoseok’s house or anything.

I was desperately trying to keep myself from falling asleep, the fact that I only slept 3 hours catching up to me, my head drooping and my eyes barely staying open. The house was dark, and I figured at this time he either had to be getting up soon or coming home to rest.

The next three hours were absolute hell. I was so tired, fighting sleep and frustration, I had gotten extremely hungry because I ate through my snacks in boredom, and I was losing my mind. Nothing was happening. Not even a shadow moved on his property. The fact that Yoongi was now probably sleeping happily in his bed, not a care in the world, was pissing me off beyond belief. And another thing – I was freezing my ass off. Duly noted – tailing for dummies: don’t do it in winter.

I had just begun losing hope that Yoongi’s even home, when suddenly a light came on somewhere in the house. My heart jumped with excitement, and I was so happy I could cry actual tears. It seemed that he started his day around 7 am. I wrote it down into my journal and ignored the rising feeling of being a total creep, keeping records on someone like this. This was a professional endeavour. I was doing it for the greater good.

I watched as the lights slowly moved downstairs to the ground level where Yoongi must have been messing around in the kitchen. At 8 o'clock the door opened, and a lady walked out, turning around presumably to say goodbye only to be narrowly missed by Yoongi immediately slamming the door shut behind her. She started shouting something and banged on the door for a little bit, screaming expletives and other interesting comments, before calling it a day and sulkily walking away. I took a look at her as she was walking by and winced. Damn, I definitely didn’t envy her the walk home in those heels. Godspeed, sister.

When the clock hit 8.30 am, a car rolled to a stop in front of the house and Yoongi himself walked out in all his glory. This time he was wearing a classic black three-piece suit with a white shirt, hair slicked back behind his ears, phone in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. He didn’t look around at all, just sped all the way to the car, got in and in a second, they were on their way god knows where.

I took a moment to check my own reflection. Compared to the sleek mafia boss, my hair was messy since I barely even brushed it that morning, my face puffy and unkept and I had an old, stained hoodie on. I was almost embarrassed. Almost. After a moment I’d decided I gave them enough space and pulled out of my spot.

I had the list of potential addresses sitting out on my passenger seat and as we began weaving through the city, I was trying to guess where they could be going. My mind was constantly on keeping enough of a distance to not look suspicious but be close enough to not lose them in the morning traffic. With my heart beating out of my chest and damp clammy hands tense on the steering wheel, I managed to follow the car up to one of the clubs.

The car had just stopped when Yoongi briskly jumped out and jogged to the entrance. He disappeared inside for about 20 minutes and then he emerged again, a briefcase in hand and a smile on his face. I jotted it down into my journal and then we were on our way again.

I spent my day like that. Yoongi had always rolled up to a club, for a moment went inside, then came out again, sometimes holding something and sometimes empty-handed. Once I even managed to catch a glimpse of one of his six seeing him off. Based on the head full of soft blond curls, it must have been Park Jimin.

Gradually as I went after them, I relaxed, setting into my new role. My journal was getting packed with information, mostly useless things about where we stopped for now. I would be able to put it to more use once I had more stable and reliable info about his routine.

Around 2 pm he went into one of his offices and stayed until 9 o'clock, after that he went back to the club where he met Jimin. I was all cramped up from sitting in my car the whole day, my back absolutely killing me. I was hungry out of my damn mind, and I’d run out of water an hour ago. I just wanted him to go the fuck home and stay there, but he stayed until midnight. When I finally saw him walk back into his house, 1 o’clock in the morning, I was done and tired, but regretting nothing.

That’s how my life went on for a few days. I’d spent full three days tailing him, showing up at his house at around 5 am (I’d given myself an extra hour, but I didn’t want to risk missing him leave) and then drove around the city jotting down all the places he went to and all the things he did. Currently my journal contained everything from the various items he carried around his clubs to his order in Starbucks (which I wrote down very reluctantly, but I figured since I’m already there, I shouldn’t half-ass it). When it was time to go back to work, I’d taken the journal with me and discreetly wrote down any kind of new information that my team brought in.

It was my fifth day of stake out when it all crashed down. I was feeling good about myself, thinking maybe I’ve managed to actually dodge his attention, but I also realised I knew nothing about the kind of scoping out his bodyguards did. When Yoongi moved about, he either had some stone-faced strangers I’d never seen before with him or there was Jungkook by his side, and I quickly came to the conclusion that his job must have also entailed keeping Yoongi safe. It seemed that I never actually popped up on their radar, I’d never noticed any suspicious glances around, no one from Yoongi’s squad had ever even looked in my general direction, so I thought I was good. I wasn’t.

I was sitting in my car, leisurely eating a subway sandwich. It was 4 pm, which meant Yoongi was going to be in his office for another few hours at the very least (that’s how it’s been for the past four days). My car was parked a little off to the side some distance from the main entrance, monitoring who came in and who came out, while the car in which he came few hours earlier was still parked in the same spot and some of the guys were standing around, smoking and talking. Jungkook was with Yoongi today and they went in together, so they most probably had some free time until Yoongi needed to go somewhere again. It had begun snowing a little while ago and everything felt quiet and peaceful.

Then suddenly my passenger door opened, and a person filed in, settling on the seat with a loud exclamation of “god, it’s so cold outside, isn’t it?”. In a split second my hand went for my gun, but I ended up grabbing empty air – I wasn’t on duty, I didn’t have a gun currently. Panicking I turned to the side, prepared to fight, only to come face to face with a smugly grinning Yoongi. The fear immediately all drained out and instead frustration burst through me like a grenade.

“Fuck!” I screamed and hit the steering wheel. I managed to get the horn and in the distance I saw Yoongi’s bodyguards perk up at the sound, immediately checking their surroundings with hands on what one could only assume were their concealed guns. Out of the corner of my eye I also saw a face peek in through the passenger door window to check on the situation, and realised Jungkook must be standing outside the car. Yoongi was just sitting there, completely unfazed, watching me with amusement.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled and glared at him.

“I could be asking you the same thing,” he drawled out, playing with his fingers unbothered, “Though I do have to praise you, we didn’t know about you for full two days. Guess we’re not used to having to worry about that anymore.” I closed my eyes and attempted to calm myself down. I didn’t need to embarrass myself further by throwing a full tantrum in front of them.

“How did you find out about me?” I gritted through my teeth and willed myself to relax more into the seat, stubbornly keeping my eyes in front of me and not looking over at Yoongi.

“You’ve been tailing me for days, of course we’re going to notice,” Yoongi replied cheekily. Then he gave me a once over. “No gun and no badge,” he hummed, “not on official business, then? Am I so charming that you just have to see me all the time?” He smirked at me playfully when he saw me peeking over, now starting to play with my little journal. It was closed, but I was still tensely watching him whether he’d decide to open it. By his smug expression, I had a feeling he knew what he was holding in his hands, and when he decided to put the journal down with a little playful wink, it was very pointed.

I cleared my throat. “It is official business,” I said, and really, I wasn’t even lying.

“Oh, is it?” he hummed noncommittally, “Because right now you just seem like a crazy stalker.” I looked over at him annoyed and he seemed to be very amused. A disembodied hand knocked on the window. Yoongi looked over and suddenly became more serious. It only lasted a second though, and then he was smirking at me again.

“All I can say is, I’m quite impressed, Y/N,” he winked at me, “Good job. Try a bit harder next time, though.” With one last amused smile he opened the door and clambered out. One hand leaning on the open door, he bent down at the waist to look in and contemplated for a moment what to say. Behind him I could see a hulking black mass as Jungkook immediately moved closer to safeguard Yoongi.

“See you around, officer,” Yoongi settled on in the end and then finally moved away from the door to slam it shut. I was left in there alone with all that cold air he let in and an unsettled feeling. I watched him cross the street to his own car, watched him as he turned around one last time and waved to me, then got in and sped away.

Only when I was left staring at an empty curb, I realised he’d called me by my name.

So… a change of tactic it is. Even though he didn’t say much, I didn’t think Yoongi had gotten into my car to threaten me. Quite the opposite, he seemed almost suspiciously encouraging. He most likely wanted to know whether I’d been assigned on this task or not.

Well, I learnt a few things at the very least. First, tailing everyday with the same car when you don’t want to be discovered is a big no-no (honestly kind of stupid on my part not to have realised that). Second – Jungkook was like Yoongi’s shadow and Yoongi’s bodyguards were all most likely under him too. He must be doing some intense scans of the surroundings, given the fact that after two days they realised a car was tailing them. After that they most probably just entertained me to see what I was doing and took the time to run a background check on me.

So, I had to find a way to be more inconspicuous. I was on their radar now; they would look out for me, and they knew more about me. Renting cars would get too expensive too quickly, it would also make me look very suspicious. My car was out of the question since they already knew it.

Honestly, I was surprised they let me tail them for that long when they already knew about me, but this might be the one time someone underestimating me would actually play into my cards. Because my goal wasn’t to aimlessly shadow Yoongi. It was to get closer to information about Hoseok. And I got a little tiny snippet.

When I sat at my computer at work the next day and stared mindlessly into the wall, I was wracking my brain on how to recuperate from this fumble. The previous night I had been going through my journal for hours, trying to come up with a way to keep a surveillance on Yoongi without letting him know I was following him, when I realised it.

Through the five days, I’d been catching glimpses of the other six. Of course, I saw Jungkook the most, but here and there I’d see Kim Taehyung’s shoulder as he was chatting with Yoongi outside of a club, Namjoon calling someone and smoking in front of the office building, Kim Seokjin coming out of Yoongi’s house, Park Jimin’s profile in the darkness of an alleyway by Yoongi’s car. They were all extremely close to each other and their lives were intertwined rather finely.

And I’d seen Hoseok too. It was for a split second, just a flash of the man’s face through a crack in a warehouse door, but I’d seen him. I had written it down, just mindlessly jotted down “door might have been opened by Hoseok”, and that was my chance. All I had to do now was start investigating that warehouse and move from there. Tonight, I had to go there and scope out the surroundings to see whether there was a place I could comfortably watch the area from.

The door to Park’s office suddenly slammed opened and I jumped in my seat, heart almost lurching out of my chest. I glared at my superior’s back and cursed his habit of storming into rooms as loudly as possible. He walked over to Minjoon’s table and started quietly telling him something. My curiosity won over and I couldn’t help glancing their way. Minjoon caught my eye for a moment and smiled, but mostly kept his attention trained on Park.

After a while of mumbling and several hushed okays, Park briskly walked through the station out to the parking lot and Minjoon and his partner both stood up and started gathering their things to follow him. I mournfully watched them get ready and grumbled behind my computer, but as I was about to petulantly grab some files and put them back into the cabinets, Minjoon came over to me and asked: “You wanna come with?” I stared at him for a moment, completely flabbergasted. He waited patiently until I got my wits about me again and then smiled when I started very enthusiastically nodding. The others in the station were also surprised, but I wasn’t about to give them my attention as I also grabbed my badge and a jacket and followed Minjoon out.

“It’s 7 pm on a Saturday, which means Yoongi’s at the Pied Piper,” he explained while leading me to the service car. Pied Piper was Yoongi’s most successful club, one that sat smack dab in the middle of Itaewon and drew attention with its fancy exterior and sleek interior. It was a hotspot for both locals and foreigners, and young trust fund kids often bragged about being on the VIP list, having the privilege to just come and walk in instead of having to wait endlessly in the line. “That also means that Namjoon’s currently sitting alone in the office. Park’s been tirelessly working on obtaining some insider info and he wants to go have a chat with the lawyer while he’s on his home turf.” I nodded along as we filed into the car and started on the journey.

I was a little nervous around the mysterious calm man. I could handle Yoongi’s endless banter, but Namjoon unnerved me with his silence and sharp eyes. It was as if he was slowly uncovering every little dirty secret you had deep within you just by looking into your eyes, he didn’t even need to say a word and you just wanted to spill all your sins. He was a dangerous man, an intelligent one that knew how to use it to intimidate others.

“Our job,” Minjoon suddenly spoke up after focusing on the road, “is to go to Pied Piper and annoy and distract Yoongi, so Park can have a peaceful uninterrupted moment with Namjoon. He doesn’t want Yoongi to even text him anything, so we have to put on a proper show.”

“I see…” I replied finally, the reality of the task setting in. I was a little relieved I didn’t have to confront Yoongi’s right-hand man, but unexpectedly I felt embarrassment flood me. I’d been having some truly awkward encounters with the man, and he seemed quite fond of teasing me. I was a little afraid he might blab about what I’d been doing in my free time and put a mark on my back within my own unit. I knew he definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to put me in a difficult position.

The whole ride over I was preparing myself for dealing with the jokester again and potentially having to stop him from spilling some secrets. So, when we walked up confidently to the bouncer and Minjoon showed him his badge, I was full on panicking, nervously picking on my scarf with shaking hands. While we waited for the bodyguard to relay to Yoongi the police were here, Minjoon must have misunderstood my nervousness as fear of facing the mafia boss again.

“Actually, this is why I wanted to bring you with me,” he said quietly so nobody could overhear, “I wanted you to get over the first meeting, so you could continue with this task. Once you meet him a few times, the novelty wears off and he’s just an annoying dude that commits crime in his free time.”

No, yeah, I already knew that. I could cry inside, that wasn’t why I was nervous at all. But it was better he thought that than knowing I’d actually met Yoongi twice more already and he seemed to be getting quite interested in making my life difficult back. So, I just nodded and smiled at him gratefully, thanking him for bringing me along.

“Alright,” the bouncer suddenly came back to us, “right this way.” With that he turned around and made his way inside the club. I scrambled to follow after him through the crowded area, wading through partying youngsters. I could barely hear anything over the pumping bass of the music and with the flashing lights and crowds I couldn’t even really see what the inside looked like. I saw some dark grey walls, some mirrors and flashy patches of silver met with dark stone, but the rest was covered up with smoke and dancing bodies.

Similarly to the club I’d been to some week and a half ago, we were led to a staircase and up onto a gallery overlooking the ground floor, but it seemed that Pied Piper offered completely private rooms that were in a corridor off to the right, while left side was occupied by a bar. Surprisingly, it seemed that the VIP area also served as a sort of a restaurant, as I saw several couples and groups enjoying a dinner. The sound of the music wasn’t as overbearing up here and it created sort of a constant hum in the background, lending the space some added privacy from eavesdropping.

I expected getting led to a cordoned off little corner somewhere like before, but instead we walked through the entire area all the way to the back, and then up another, albeit a little smaller, staircase to a sort of a half balcony hanging over both the ground floor and the VIP area.

There on a velvet red couch, was sat Yoongi, greeting us with an amused smile. His pitch-black shirt and dress pants were popping with contrast to the vibrant red, just as his pale skin and long black hair was. For a moment I was so consumed by the vision that was Yoongi, that I didn’t even realise there were two other men present.

On a couch to our left, Kim Taehyung sat in all black suit, all spread out with legs wide open and arms resting on top of the couch, wavy dark hair framing his curious face, mischievous expression slowly taking over as he watched us grow more and more restless. And finally, leaning on a wall behind us, was Jungkook. He was expressionless as always and almost blended into the wall with his also pitch-black t-shirt and cargo pants. What was visible of his arms was heavily tattooed and definitely served as make-shift camouflage in this dark space.

I snickered and before I could stop myself, I was speaking. “Did we crash a funeral or what? What’s with the fits?” I glanced at all three of them amusedly. Taehyung started giggling while Yoongi full-on laughed. His face was coloured by surprise at my words and once again, I’d managed to catch his full attention. The nerves I felt combined with my annoyance at the man helped me put up a more confident front than I was feeling and I needed to take full advantage of that.

“Well, personally I think I do look quite ravishing in black, darling,” Taehyung drawled out seductively, righting his posture to lean closer to me, “Don’t you agree?” Minjoon looked between us confusedly and I made a mental note to make some excuse about why I wasn’t a complete wreck in the face of the three men.

I ignored Taehyung’s words and instead sat down on a chair straight across from Yoongi and Minjoon, who finally came out of his stupor, sat down next to me.

“So, tell me, officer,” Yoongi asked noncommittally, “What are you here for this time?” Even though he aimed the question at Minjoon, he was looking at me the whole time and I knew he was also experiencing the same déjà vu as me.

“You know, just checking that everything’s fine here,” Minjoon replied cheekily, watching me out of the corner of his eye, “Weekends can get pretty rough. We wouldn’t want a fight to break out.” Yoongi just scoffed and gestured to the general area.

“You don’t have to worry that head of yours, Mr. Jang,” he replied with a snark that I’d never caught from him before, “We have quite the few very strong and very professional bodyguards and bouncers around here. People know not to mess with them.” He looked back at me and then added: “Would you like something to drink or eat? I must say the appetizers are absolutely stellar today.” With a swipe of his arm, he gestured to the table between us that was decked with food. From my left, Taehyung giggled and leaned in to grab a few grapes.

To be honest, it felt like we were two stupid little lambs that wandered straight into the wolf’s den. And the fact that they were all around us didn’t help. It was finally starting to catch up with me and I nervously rubbed the top of my thighs with my clammy hands. I gulped and looked at Minjoon, expecting him to lead the conversation. I wondered how Park was fairing at the office and whether he’d already met Namjoon.

“Well, it’s our duty to look out anyway,” Minjoon shot back, “Serve the public and all that. Just making sure nothing naughty is going on. People tend to get a little crazy on Saturdays after all.” He was rewarded with a toothy wild smirk, all sharp edges and dangerous glints.

“Yes, they do tend to do that. If I see anyone being naughty, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell,” Yoongi laughed and gestured at the bodyguard at the stairs. He immediately turned around and left. I was on high alert, trying to track him from the balcony and see where he was going. The conversation between the men continued as they traded thinly veiled insults and passive aggressive remarks, while I was frantically searching the crowd.

I only relaxed when he returned to the balcony – a tray of drinks in hand. Each of the men took one – to my horror even Minjoon accepted a glass that was clearly meant for him and took a tiny sip. I gave him a pointed stare. He was the one that drove us here, for fuck’s sake! Not to mention there should be a golden rule about not eating or drinking anything given to you by a gangster in a club he owned.

The bouncer made his rounds, and the last glass was suddenly thrust in front of my face. It was a sex on the beach. It was the single cocktail I ordered and sipped on not to look too suspicious at Dynamite the other week. I shot the man in question a half surprised half horrified look. He was watching me from behind the rim of his own whiskey glass, eyes dark and curious for my reaction.

In the end, I took it because I’d started to feel awkward with the bouncer just standing there with his arm outstretched, but I immediately sat it down on the table, intent on not drinking it. I shot Minjoon another look, trying to signal to him he should do the same, but he was cooly sipping on his and only subtly shook his head at me. I pointedly ignored Yoongi’s gaze hungry for attention. I would not give him the rise he so wanted to get out of me.

“You see, right now I’m only trying to figure out in what club is your partner currently wreaking havoc, to have you here distracting,” Kim Taehyung suddenly joined the conversation, his silky deep voice catching me off guard every time. I jolted, but Minjoon kept his cool.

“You guys know us too well, this is getting a bit repetitive, isn’t it?” he joked back and drained his whiskey glass in a single big gulp, “Guess you’ll have to find out yourself. But entertain me here for a moment, otherwise you’ll just embarrass me in front of my boss and the newbie.”

Suddenly, four pairs of eyes were on me, and a wave of goosebumps ran through my entire being. I met Yoongi’s black eyes again and this time didn’t divert the eye contact. He leant forward, until he was leaning on his knees, and even though there was an entire table between us, it still felt dangerously close.

“You have been quite uncharacteristically quiet, officer,” he said and drawled out the nickname with a deep voice. I was afraid of what else might come out of his mouth, so I quickly butted in.

“What do you mean? You don’t know me at all,” it was both a warning to shut up and warning that we’d just begun, and he really did not know what I was capable of. My eyes were throwing daggers at him, but I tried to keep on a fake polite smile.

“Well, for someone who waltzed in here calling it a funeral and dissing our clothes, I was expecting some more smart comments out of you,” Yoongi explained, and I was relieved he was entertaining my threat to keep our previous conversations secret. He was looking thoroughly amused though.

“You’d have to be saying something smart, for me to have smart remarks.”

Kim Taehyung laughed out of surprise and pointed at Yoongi, who was fighting back his own grin. “She got you, hyung, you’ve gotta admit that,” he teased him good-naturedly and it was almost surprisingly wholesome to see them interacting as friends.

“There’s rarely anything smart said when talking to cops,” Yoongi retorted and it was more of a dig towards Minjoon than me, who stiffened next to me. It must have been a sore subject coming from Yoongi, which I understood with how hard he was making everything for us. Unfortunately, as a cop you sometimes did feel like the criminals outsmarted you… and then hearing them tease you about it, I’d be mad too.

“Okay, okay, we can sit here and call each other dumb the whole evening,” I mediated the situation before it went sideways, “Tell me then, Yoongi, what smart things do you want to talk about?” I spit out his name as if it was a curse, but I saw his entire being perk up at hearing it, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. I ignored it and waited for him to answer.

“Oh, I’ve got many things to talk about, one more interesting than the other,” he said dangerously, and I quickly realised we were nearing a no-go zone again. I suddenly understood why he was so interested in this, in letting me so near and never reprimanding me, playing with me like a cat does when it’s hunting for mice. He was getting off on knowing there was something I desperately needed him to stay silent about. At that moment, he was holding something over my head, something that could get me in a lot of trouble with colleagues that already didn’t like me, and if he threatened to press charges for harassment and stalking, he could most likely even boot me out of the force. But to him, it wasn’t about destroying my life. It was about amusing himself knowing I’m depending on him for something so important when I’m hellbent on taking him down. That way, he still remained in control of all of our meetings.

But I didn’t think he had the intention to truly rat me out. It was too much fun for him, and he seemed the type to let things play out. Ultimately, he must have believed once I became bothersome, he could shoot me down no problem, so why not amuse himself while the opportunity was there? So, I took a gamble. He wanted a challenge, maybe I’d give it to him. Maybe that’s why he encouraged me to do better and chase after him more.

“Yeah?” I said and trained all my attention to him, just as he always did to everyone around him, “I’m all ears.” He looked me straight in the eyes and I fought myself not to flinch away. The longer we stared, the more prominent the amused smirk grew on his face. He tested me, how long it would take me to break the eye contact and back down, but I steeled myself, squeezing the armrests with my nervous shaking hands, keeping the fear at bay by attempting to look as fierce as possible while falling apart with panic on the inside. Finally, it was him who looked away, but it didn’t feel like he ceded. It felt like we both won.

I released a breath I didn’t realise I was holding in and slumped a little into my chair, the tension suddenly draining out of my body in one fell swoop, leaving me almost boneless. Only now I started noticing the tense awkward silence the whole space sunk into, the other three men watching us with very different expressions. Jungkook as stoic as ever but with a hint of something in his eyes, Taehyung hungrily taking in the exchange with open curiosity and a playful grin, watching me as if I successfully tackled some kind of a challenge, and finally Minjoon, his face both confused and alarmed. I really had to think of some good excuse on the way back home.

Yoongi’s phone was buzzing on the table, but he barely paid it any attention. Instead, he gulped down his whiskey and gestured for the bodyguard to get him more, before turning to Minjoon once again.

“I’m sorry, but you seem kind of boring compared to the balls on this lady,” he mocked him, “this is the most fun I’ve had dealing with you guys.”

“I’m not here to amuse you,” I growled through gritted teeth. He flashed me a smile and said: “Oh, of course not, I know that. You’re here on a super secret, super important mission. But I am having fun, which normally doesn’t happen with these guys.” Minjoon snickered next to me, and his next words somehow felt like a punch in the face.

“I should have known that a pig like you would get off more on having a female detective grill you,” he muttered, fully aiming to insult Yoongi, but I stiffened next to him. I couldn’t figure out why, but his remark really didn’t sit well with me, putting me out of my comfort zone way more than anything the three gangsters did the whole evening, and Kim Taehyung’s first words to me were shameless flirting.

“Only a pig like you would only see the fact that she’s a woman and not that she’s just more interesting than you,” Yoongi retorted almost instantly, spitting out the whole sentence in a single breath, leaving Minjoon speechless with the quick comeback. Then he rolled his eyes, trying to stay as calm as he was when he came in.

“That’s not what I said, stop trying to spin this on me,” he said, clearly annoyed with the turn of the conversation, “We’re talking about you here.” I stayed silent and for the first time that evening yearned for taking a swig out of the now melting cocktail still standing on the table in front of me.

“Right,” Yoongi drawled out, running out of patience dealing with the officer, “And I’m a pig why exactly? Last time I checked that’s what people called the police. Not me. And especially not after I’ve just-“

“Shut up, both of you,” I jumped in, annoyed and not interested in whatever Yoongi wanted to say, “You can measure each other’s cocks when I’m not around. Act like adults.” Taehyung off to the side giggled again, thoroughly enjoying himself watching this all go down. I chanced a glance at Jungkook, who was attempting to hide an amused smirk by looking out of the balcony. I didn’t want to look at either of the men I had just reprimanded, but my attention was drawn to Yoongi when he cleared his throat and said: “Of course, I let myself get carried away. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I had been afraid he’d take it badly, but he was laughing when I looked at him. Minjoon looked angry, but stayed silent, instead he petulantly looked to the right, away from all of us. I guess I’d be reaping the consequences of that later.

The awkward silence was broken by the man I was least expecting to speak up. “They’re with Namjoon hyung at the office,” Jungkook briskly informed Yoongi from behind us. When I turned around, he was just putting his phone to his ear walking out of the space.

“Well, I guess the cat’s out the bag now,” my attention turned back onto Yoongi, who still wasn’t checking his periodically buzzing phone. I also pulled out mine to check the time. 7:43 pm. We’d been there for a little longer than half an hour, but it felt barely like ten minutes to my shock.

I looked at Minjoon again, seeking his advice on how to tie up this situation. He finally shook out of his embarrassed silence and was more or less back to his previous self.

“Well, thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Min,” Minjoon said, still a little strained and refusing to look at him for too long, “It was truly a fruitful evening.” Yoongi chuckled.

“Right, I feel like we all learnt a lot of things about each other,” he retorted mysteriously, giving me a grin and then turning to Taehyung, “It seems we both lost the bet. I said it would be The Rose and you betted on the hotel.” The Rose, another one of Yoongi’s clubs, was currently managed mainly by Park Jimin and situated on the other side of the city centre. It was another one of his high-profile entertainments, but most of the time it hosted the filthy rich and honed in on the feeling of privilege and prestige. That was definitely a club you couldn’t just get into from the street, no, you had to be invited in or taken by a member, that’s why the police were so interested in it.

“You were betting on us?” I asked surprised. Minjoon looked at me and grinned. “They do that quite often, actually. We do our best to try and keep them on their toes.”

I glanced at Yoongi, who as the entire time, was watching me closely. I hummed and pretended to think about it for a moment, and finally said: “Honestly, The Rose is a pretty good guess. Keep ‘em coming, I’m sure with an intuition like that, you’ll get it right once.” He laughed heartily and leaned in.

“I know it’s a good guess,” he whispered, “I get them right most of the time. I know you people, more than you think.” I shuddered and pulled away, hitting the back of the chair. With a slight flush of embarrassment at my earlier comment, I scrambled to get up and go on our merry way. That had made him even more amused, and I cursed both him and myself. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

Yoongi didn’t bother standing up as we were leaving, he didn’t even bother to check his phone, that had gone suspiciously silent. He just stared at me from across the room as the bouncer started leading the way back out and Taehyung waved at us with a little wink, looking annoyingly pleased and relaxed. I rolled my eyes at him one last time and then disappeared down the stairs. If I strained my ears, I could almost hear him laughing loudly at my antics.

Outside of the club, back by our car, Minjoon suddenly stopped in the middle of the empty quiet parking lot. I staggered to a stop as well, looking at him confused and slightly worried something happened. What if Park hadn’t managed to have that talk with Namjoon and was waiting for us mad at the station? Panic flashed through me, but I was surprised when Minjoon looked at me with worried sad eyes and started apologising.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about before,” he said and I could finally see the full extent of his embarrassment, “You’re right, we were bickering like a couple of little boys. It’s just- He always gets such a rise out of me. I try and not react, but he always does or says something that just pisses me off.” I softened a little at his genuine shame and a little awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I understand,” I replied quietly, “He got a rise out of me too. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at me, a little lighter and less sad, and I returned it. When we returned to the station, Park didn’t say anything about us or our mission and just launched right into his spiel about Namjoon’s behaviour at the office. I considered that a win.

Later that night, sitting in the empty meeting room, Minjoon turned to me and said: “I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier, but you fared surprisingly well tonight. I wasn’t expecting you to be like… that. It was amazing.” I blushed both from his words and his gentle embarrassed gaze and played with the edge of my sleeve to escape his eyes.

“Thank you… When I get nervous, I just start blabbing out the first thing that comes to mind,” I replied with a half-truth half-lie. He didn’t need to know I’d been getting some practice with dealing with the infuriating man in my free time. That would stay between me, Yoongi and the devil.

The next time I saw Yoongi was actually a few weeks later – in January of the new year. As I promised to myself, I took the time to scope out that one warehouse where I caught a glimpse of Hoseok. I had been staking it out carefully for almost a week, losing my mind with boredom just watching harbour workers milling about, when I came to the conclusion that he actually wasn’t there. The one time I’d seen him there clearly must have been a fluke, because he didn’t come at all the entire week. It was a pretty easy to scope out location, and when I continuously didn’t notice any evidence of Hoseok’s presence, I had to face the reality that this just wasn’t one of his spots.

So, that sent me back to following Yoongi around. And I had to figure out how to outsmart the literal king of snakes.

One day, when I was walking through the station, it hit me in a form of a single simple leaflet pinned to a noticeboard. I stopped so fast I almost tripped over my own feet and then hobbled back to the board to take in the huge bold FREE MOTORCYCLE TRAINING FOR OFFICERS FROM THIS PRECINCT. I had to stop myself from laughing maniacally right in the middle of the station and immediately saved the contact information into my phone. It was time to learn some new skills.

While I started taking lessons to be able to get a license for a motorcycle, I had to hold off from tailing Yoongi. Rolling up to his house in a car he already knew would be just embarrassing to me and explaining to someone else why I needed to borrow their car to drive around Seoul for 24 hours straight would be too difficult and, not to mention, extremely weird. There aren’t enough excuses in this world to borrow a different car every night and I didn’t even know enough people to achieve that.

Sometimes I would snoop around his office building or clubs when I knew he either was there or wasn’t, depending on what I was trying to achieve. I also still periodically dropped to the warehouse, just to chance whether maybe Hoseok showed up that time. But no luck. It was like he got swallowed by the earth itself. It did make sense for Yoongi to keep him in the shadows, considering what we suspected he did in the organisation, but I didn’t expect for him to be this hard to spot.

Here and there I would go through the other buildings Yoongi owned and tried to figure out where he could be spending most of his time, but there were just too many. Thus, one night I ended up buying a huge and very detailed map of Seoul that took up almost all of my bedroom wall and got to work on that. First, I marked all of Yoongi’s properties including his house in red, then I added properties that were known to be in possession of his six each with their own colours, and then marked with different colours who I spotted where. Finally, I added post it notes with details of when I spotted them or when Yoongi went there.

As I stood in my bedroom, proud of my hard work, a realisation of what I was doing hit me. There was no going back now, and whoever entered my house and found his way into my bedroom would be positively creeped out. I myself had to admit that sleeping next to a huge map detailing the whereabouts of a certain individual that I acquired through illegal means wasn’t ideal, but I had to do what I had to do to help catch him.

And like that, Christmas came and went and suddenly New Year was here, and I found myself sitting in the meeting room, first thing in January, going over new findings and strategies. I was barely holding my attention to what was said, itching to supervise Yoongi again and trying to come up with ways to check on what he’s doing.

“We’ve made contact with a new informant,” Park said suddenly, “He’s willing to pass info to us, he’s fairly confident that he can dodge the safety checks since he’s seen people fail them quite often. He knows very well the consequences he faces if he gets caught and agreed to help anyway.”

“Which faction does he belong to?” one of the officers present asked him. Faction, that meant under which member of the six he worked. Since they all had such different areas of coverage, a lot of the time the personnel under them was directly employed to them and not necessarily to Yoongi himself, though he owned the umbrella corporation. These groups of employees directly belonging to a certain member of the gang we called factions or squads.

“He works around the clubs and the hotel, so he’s Taehyung’s, but he mostly gets into contact with Jungkook,” Park answered readily, “But, and that’s most important, he gets his fare share of time with Namjoon. He runs a lot of errands for him and Taehyung when they’re together. Which is often.”

Suddenly Minjoon leaned closer to me and whispered: “Namjoon spends most of his time at the office building, but he does go to the clubs and checks on their offices and bookkeeping periodically. Taehyung’s and Jimin’s responsibility is making sure that everything is ready there for him.” I nodded at him and gave him a grateful smile. I thought back to the five days I spent sitting mostly in front of the office space and I did see him a lot. He seemed to be an avid smoker and spent a lot of time standing by the side of the building smoking and shouting something into his phone. Maybe he was like Yoongi and went to the clubs in the morning and then spent the afternoons there.

I leaned to him and whispered back: “It’s almost unfair how much information we have on them and still can’t legally even give them a parking ticket.” Minjoon smiled sympathetically and patted my shoulder.

The meeting droned on and as I sat there, I decided that parking tickets actually didn’t sound half bad. Next time I went out after him, I should take some just in case. I vowed myself to be the most annoying menace he’s ever come across and I fully intended to hold up to that.

About a week later I was once again sitting at my table punching some useless information into the national police database, trying to stay awake as I’d been spending the nights crawling around the industrial parts of Seoul checking out warehouses and the surveillance around them, when Park, as was his habit, stormed into the room letting his door bang loudly into the wall. I’d stopped flinching at this point, no one in the room was even fazed, all of us have heard it so many times it wasn’t even surprising anymore.

As usual when something happened with Yoongi, he went straight to Minjoon and Hwang, his partner, gesturing for them to grab their things and follow him out. I tried to catch Minjoon’s eye, hoping he’d take me with them again, but he just shook his head at me gently. When both of the other men left, he made a stop at my table and in a hushed voice explained: “I’m sorry, not today. Something happened at a warehouse that’s on Yoongi’s turf, probably some kind of fight with a rival gang or something. The police officers from the area are already there, but they’re waiting on us to see. It’s a pretty ugly and bloody scene.” With that he ran out of the door, barely managing to wave goodbye as he rushed to the scene.

I looked at his retreating back in disappointment, not understanding his reasoning behind leaving me out of it. What was he worried about? That I’d be upset if I saw a little blood? That I shouldn’t witness violence? Determination rose in me as I got angry at the perceived discrimination. I checked the clock. 4 PM, Wednesday. I scrambled out of my chair and quickly grabbed my badge and jacket and ran out as well.

As I gripped my steering wheel like an insane person and drove through the centre, I was hoping that his schedule was as solid as I assumed, even though I didn’t follow him for long. In a few minutes, I was parking in front of his office building and charging my way inside like a storm. There was a lady sitting at the reception and when she first saw me walk in, she attempted to talk to me, but quickly gave up and lost interest when I just brushed past her.

I’d never been inside but I hoped that all the movies and series didn’t lie, and his office would be on the top floor, so I flagged down an elevator and pushed the highest button. Now finally standing here, I started getting nervous. I once again acted before I thought about it and standing in an elevator taking me to Yoongi’s office, I didn’t even know what I’d say to him. If he even was here. I had nothing to talk to him about except for inquiring about the disturbance at a warehouse, but I doubt he’d ever tell me anything about it, not that I even had any closer information to ask about. This was reckless and stupid.

The elevator slowly rolled to a stop and the door opened. I self-consciously walked out and took a look around. It was a nicely furnished hallway lined with dark wood and deep scarlet details. At the end a huge vase with white lilies stood, right next to an abandoned desk of who I assumed must be Yoongi’s secretary. To my left, straight in the middle, was a black double door, no doubt leading to the man of the hour.

I loitered outside for a while, gathering courage and thinking about how I should explain my sudden appearance. Right as I moved to the door, it opened and a black-clad figure backed out, both of us colliding between the open doors. With surprisingly quick reflexes he turned around and grabbed onto my elbow, stabilising me before I embarrassed myself in front of Yoongi again.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” a cheerful high voice rung out through the corridor, “I gotta watch the road more.” He ended it with a melodic laugh and his other hand grabbed onto my shoulder, finally shaking me out of my stupor. I looked up to thank him, the cheerful personality putting me at ease a little more, but as soon as I laid eyes on him, the words died in my throat on an embarrassing half choked sound. I froze up and just stared at him for a moment, until I could see confusion paint his face.

It was Jung Hoseok. Hoseok was standing in front of me. Laughing and joking around, hands still holding me upright.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, suddenly a little more serious, watching me with concern.

“She’s fine,” a voice from the inside supplied, “Maybe she’s just stunned with your beauty, with finally meeting you in person after staring at your picture for months.” All confusion and concern disappeared from the man and he started laughing again.

“Oh, so you’re the police officer,” he announced with a smirk and something a little more teasing crept into his voice. He finally released his hold on me and watched me with amused eyes as I stumbled away from him with red burning cheeks. So much for not embarrassing myself. It didn’t help that he most definitely was beautiful, almost unfairly so for someone who was allegedly a stone-cold killer. Damn these men to hell, what was it about being a mobster that attracted the good-looking guys.

“Thank you for catching me,” I gritted through my teeth, already staring daggers into Yoongi, who was leisurely sitting behind a huge dark desk in the room behind us, watching us with a lazy smirk.

“Don’t mention it,” Hoseok replied almost instantly and winked, “Well, I gotta get on my merry way. Have fun you two! Bye bye~” He waved at me cheerily and walked out. Then he backed into the room again and pointed at Yoongi in a teasingly reprimanding manner and added: “Not too much fun though.” With that, he was gone.

I walked into the room, completely flabbergasted by his surprising character. Yoongi watched me like a wolf, waiting for me to sit down on a chair on the other side of his table, as was our tradition by now. I could see the anticipation rolling off of him in waves, so I took the time to properly soak in the room. There was a lot of dark wood and grey tones with splash of colour here and there, but the darkness was offset by a huge three-piece window in the wall behind Yoongi. Right now, I could see the beginnings of what would soon turn into a sunset.

I knew I couldn’t win in a battle of will against him, so once I dragged it out enough, finally I moved over to the table to take a seat. Immediately, Yoongi had a cordial smile on his face, as if he was greeting an old friend and not a police officer. Speaking of that, I remembered something – I took the time to bring it for the sake of our second meeting.

Yoongi wordlessly watched me rummage in my pockets until I finally found what I was looking for. A second later, my hand slapped my badge on the table between us. I nodded towards it and muttered: “That official enough for you?” He looked at it shocked for a split second and then he was laughing.

When calm enough to speak to me, he said: “I see that whatever I joke about with you, you’ll take it to your heart. I’ll have to think about my words a bit more carefully from now on.” He stared at the badge for a moment and then thoughtfully hummed.

“Now, that reminds me, I should probably check whether you’re recording this talk,” he joked with me, “I won’t stop you of course, just watch my mouth.” Annoyed, I reached into my other pocket and this time I slapped my phone on the table. I went the extra mile of showing him it wasn’t calling anyone or recording anything, and then glared at him in challenge, all under his amused gaze.

“So, can we talk?” I bluffed, pretending like I showed up here for something specific. He made himself comfortable in his chair across from me and motioned for me to start. I took a moment to think about how to start. With no idea what I wanted to achieve here, it was hard to just start up a conversation. But it seemed I was worrying for nothing.

“Actually, I don’t need you to start,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I know why you’re here. With your colleagues currently running around in the docks, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. But it’s not their usual MO, they’ve never sent here someone while they were investigating.” I stuttered under his piercing eyes, and he smirked. “So… not that official, is it.”

“It still is, though, I’m here during work hours regarding an on-going police investigation,” I defended myself somewhat petulantly, following his figure with my eyes when he suddenly got up and moved to a small bar in the corner behind me. With his back to me, mixing up cocktails, I realised I’ve never seen him from this angle, always had to face him head on and fight for everything I was and everything I did. This felt as if we were supposed to be relaxed in each other’s company and I didn’t like it.

He hummed again and turned around, whiskey in one hand and pink gin and tonic in other. He motioned for me to move and sit at a small green sofa in the other corner of the room, and I mindlessly listened to him. To my surprise, he situated me on the sofa and pushed the gin into my hand, while he himself made himself comfortable on the fluffy carpet, leaning on the table. The sofa wasn’t super high, but I still found myself looking at him from above for the first time ever. It was putting me off – he had to be planning something. Why else would he behave this way?

I put the glass on the table and gave him a reprimanding glare. “I told you, I’m on duty and I drove here.” He scoffed and sipped on his own drink, ignoring my words.

“And the things you’ll learn here, you’ll share them with your colleagues? You’ll go back to the station and divulge your findings?” he asked seemingly innocently, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. It was the most serious I’ve ever seen him. I didn’t know whether I should lie to him or not. I knew I wouldn’t share it, at least not until a little later, when there was an opportunity for me to showcase my knowledge in the most impactful way. And it seemed that he was aware of that as well. And the longer I took to answer him, the more obvious the answer was. So I chose to be honest.

“When the time comes for it, yes,” I said, and the words felt like ash on my tongue. I could barely look at him in that moment. I was doing something wrong, I was aware of that, I was putting my career on the line and bartering the information for my own gain and putting it out into the universe somehow felt like a curse. But Yoongi didn’t seem to care. He nodded and took a sip again, humming. I regarded him with suspicion.

“Is that why you came here to find out the information your own colleagues wouldn’t tell you?”

His question hung heavy in the air, and I froze completely. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t even disprove it, even though I didn’t think that’s why I came there. They really didn’t tell me anything. I would find out eventually when it was important for me to know. Or if I was lucky, I’d pull it out of Minjoon when he’d come in tomorrow. But I was angry and frustrated. I spent a lot of time studying Yoongi’s warehouses trying to find Hoseok, and he didn’t even give me a chance to tell him and ran. Didn’t even tell me a reason why exactly I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I went and did something foolish.

But I still had to play my cards right.

For some reason, Yoongi seemed to be suspiciously eager to let me in on some of his dealings, from speaking to me openly that one time in Dynamite, to letting me tail him and even entertaining my clumsy attempts at distracting him or getting information out of him. Whether it was because he didn’t see me as a threat or because he was trying to play a game of his own with me, I had to use this to my advantage. As long as he was this willing, I had to try and milk this situation.

“Just trying to get all the points of view,” I answered cooly and tried to put up a strong front. I hoped that Yoongi had enough decency not to point out my obvious frustration and would take my words at face value. Which, thankfully, he seemed to do. He flashed me a smile and said: “Ah, I see. Just being a good cop.”

He looked at me for a moment and then suddenly got up. I was about to also get up, but he gestured for me to stay seated. He walked over to the table and leaned on it with his hip.

“I can’t tell you much more than what you’ll eventually find out about it,” he said, and it felt both like a ceding and a challenge, “But whatever happened there, we had nothing to do with it. A petty criminal allegedly affiliated with a group attacked another petty criminal allegedly affiliated with another group and it didn’t go as well as he hoped.” I wished I knew more about the situation to ask additional questions, but I knew this would be all I’d be getting out of him either way.

“Well, that’s not much,” I couldn’t help the dig and he scoffed. “Don’t complain when I’m being this gracious,” he retorted jokingly and pointed a finger at me much in the same manner as Hoseok did to him earlier.

I was about to retort too, when the door flew open. For a moment I almost thought it’s Park and my heart jumped into my throat, but the panic disappeared as quickly when I recognised the man as none other than Kim Taehyung. He waltzed in straight to me, paying Yoongi no mind and sitting down on the sofa next to me.

When I moved to stand up, he quickly caught my hand and gave it a swift kiss. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, “My name is Taehyung, but feel free to call me Tae.” I raised my eyebrow at him as he gave me a million-watt smile and slowly settled back into the couch.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kim,” I replied, deadpan, and pulled my hand free. Somewhere in the room Yoongi laughed, but before I could turn to look at him, Taehyung spoke to me again.

“How mean,” he fake pouted and slumped into the sofa, only to spring up again immediately, hands going for the pink gin and tonic, “Is this free?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” I replied, stunned. I could have stayed silent though, as the glass was already halfway to his lips and there was no stopping him. He gulped down half the glass in one go and then offered me to take a swig too. I was so surprised by his erratic behaviour that I subconsciously grabbed the drink thrust into my personal space and froze.

“Come on, just one little sip,” he goaded me, seemingly all in good spirits, but I knew listening to whatever gibberish he had to offer me was a one-way ticket to hell. I pushed the glass back into his hands and said: “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it much more than me.”

Taehyung suddenly leaned into my personal space and seductively whispered: “If that was right, then I would be doing it wrong.” With his suggestive words hanging between us, obviously no longer talking about alcohol, I blushed so aggressively I might have combusted on the spot and pushed him away until he was squished into the other corner of the sofa.

Alarmed at his words I instinctively searched for Yoongi, holding out hope that he would sort out his friend and school him on how to act in front of a detective and a woman, but I found him half sitting on the armrest of the chair I previously sat on, attentively watching us with a light amused smirk.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered cocky, “He still hasn’t been house trained.” There was a whiny “hyuuuung” coming from somewhere behind me, but I was done with this conversation. I had just had enough of interacting with these lunatics, so I got up and started getting ready to leave.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Taehyung teased, “I’m just joking around, I always try this on new people to see how they react.” I huffed, slightly angry but more humiliated. “You mean new women.”

“Actually, he doesn’t care about that at all,” Yoongi answered for him, “You should have seen him when he first met your boss and the other cop, Jang. He almost got arrested for public indecency cause he made them so angry.” I turned to look at Taehyung to gauge the truth to this statement, only to find him properly embarrassed and almost as red as me. The image of Taehyung shamelessly flirting with a seething mad Park while Minjoon watched completely horrified entered my mind. I snickered at him and relaxed again.

“I should have known that cops have no sense of humour,” he muttered for himself, but then quickly shot me a wink and added: “No offense.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “That’s the least offensive thing you’ve said to me today.” Taehyung only smiled at me sweetly, as if he was the picture of sainthood and not whispering naughty words to people he barely knew on the regular.

I went to check the time and with a start realised I’d left my phone and badge just laying on the table when I earlier moved to the sofa. After quickly grabbing them, I walked over to the door and turned around. Both men in the room were looking at me curiously. I gave them my own wolfish grin and said: “Thank you for your cooperation.” With that I was gone.

So, that wasn’t the most fruitful thing I’ve ever done. I found myself even more confused about the strange behaviour of a man with such a reputation as Min Yoongi. For a moment teasing, for a moment dangerous, for a moment honest and genuine? I had no idea what he was doing, what he was trying to do and why was he letting me get away with so much, but everything about him and every one of our encounters was extremely suspicious.

Well. Even though it disappointed me a little, I knew that it was most likely because he kept underestimating me. So, I had to change that.

A week later I’d finally gotten a license for a bike. I was spending so much time there that I even became somewhat of a running joke between the lectors, but I couldn’t explain to them I was in a time press because I had a gang to dismantle and a mafia boss to humble. That would have made things real awkward real fast.

But now, with a license and slightly used black bike, I was virtually unstoppable. At least in my mind. From there I slowly got back into my routine of tailing Yoongi. During the month and a half I was out, I had been spending a lot of time staring at a map of Seoul and embarrassingly enough, I’d started to remember the streets to a point I could have become a cabbie. Maybe one day when I’ve inevitably lost my badge because Yoongi snitched on my unprofessional misconduct, I’d give it a shot.

I was absolutely sure to him I was just some cute little animal that sometimes barked and growled a little but would never do much worse than piss on the floor, but the moment I’d actually bite a nerve, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of me. I had to work quickly, before I became too much of an eyesore to him.

Speaking of which, Yoongi didn’t stray from his routine too much. In the mornings he would alternate between visiting the clubs, restaurants and his hotel, then he would either stay at the hotel’s office or move to his office building. In the afternoons he sometimes went to certain warehouses, but from what I could gather, it was mostly Hoseok, Jungkook and surprisingly Namjoon, who came to him with information about these places. The weekends he’d spent in his office until the clubs opened and then went either to Pied Piper or The Rose, both in which I wasn’t able to enter again.

Sometimes I would let Yoongi sit in the office and move to the warehouses. I alternated between them, checking on them to see who was where, and saw Jungkook and Namjoon very often. Hoseok stayed ever so elusive he might as well have been a ghost, but I was absolutely sure he must have been actively communicating with Yoongi.

I even tried to tail Jungkook, but the man was impossible to track down. No matter what I did, I’d always lose him after a few minutes, and I never managed to stay on him for longer than a few streets. I’d become so good at taking all kinds of back streets and alleys to keep out of sight that his ability to just disappear was truly mind-boggling to me.

While when I tailed Namjoon, I quickly realised that he moved in a very constricted area between the offices, some of the clubs and some of the warehouses. He never lingered for long when he was out but was capable of sitting for hours upon hours in the office building, so that ultimately also went nowhere.

The map in my room was quickly becoming crowded with differently coloured strings and post-it notes, in the evening (or sometimes early morning) I’d come home and add another new little thing and I was feeling like an obsessed stalker a little more every day. From Yoongi’s point of view, I most likely was. But it had to be done.

It had to be done.

It was one regular Tuesday when I chanced upon gold. I was sitting on my bike, bored out my mind, stuffing my face with fast food watching Yoongi laugh about something with Jimin and Taehyung outside of one of his clubs, when a black car with tinted windows pulled up. It was a car I sometimes saw with Jungkook, so I more or less knew to expect the young man, but when Hoseok in all of his glory jumped out and walked over to hug the two youngsters, I was so surprised I almost choked on a hot dog and fell off my bike.

Jungkook came out of the car right after him and immediately started looking around, so I ducked and started pulling my bike a little more behind a corner. The five men conversed for a moment and then Hoseok waved and started walking towards a different car. I watched him full of anticipation, my fingers flexing on their own, eager to try my best at tailing Jungkook if it meant I’d get to find out where Hoseok worked. But to my absolute elation, Jungkook wasn’t following. Hoseok was leaving alone. Fucking jackpot.

I was so happy I almost passed out. I didn’t know what sort of luck this was, but I wasn’t about to complain.

Hoseok walked over to a sleek silver sports car and sat in the driver’s seat. I was getting ready as if I was about to run the marathon, my sweaty hands nervously fidgeting with the handles of my bike, body taunt as a bow. He stayed still for a moment, a moment that felt like hours to me, but then I heard the faint sound of a running engine. He waved to the others again, and then he was off. I pressed myself into the building as he was passing me and then quickly followed.

I’d never been that nervous about tailing someone, not even when I first went after Yoongi almost two months ago at the beginning of December. This was most likely my only shot for a long time, there was no telling when I’d be able to spot him again.

He drove to one of the many docks that were under Yoongi’s control. In this particular area, they owned a whole three warehouses that looked over some of their ships and imported goods. I was here a lot when I was trying to find Hoseok on my own, I figured this was such a hotspot, if he went somewhere, it would probably be here, but I never caught sight of him. Now I was proven right but felt annoyed that I missed him so many times.

The reason for that turned out to be quite simple. The biggest warehouse, situated closest to the water, had another door that I haven’t noticed. It was in the back and blended into the wall so well I almost thought for a second Hoseok’s just loitering in the back banging on the walls. When a patch in the wall suddenly opened and he disappeared inside, it was like unlocking a whole new world in my mind. No wonder I’d never seen him, the whole time he was coming in from the other side.

I admit, it was a bit reckless to pour my attention here after a single sighting, but I was willing to risk it. I took the time to scope out the area while Hoseok was inside (if he was anything like the others, he’d be spending hours there anyway).

A little ways to the left was a small building, but right behind it I saw an abandoned half constructed concrete monstrosity, most likely a leftover of attempts to redevelop this part of the capital city that crashed and burned on the involvement of gangs in the area. I made my way to it.

It was fenced off, but a little probing here and there, I was able to break into one of the fence gates. Inside I apologised to whoever owned this building, but it was very obviously uncared for, so I justified myself in that way. I probably wasn’t even the first person that broke in, I told myself as I made my way up the stairs. I swallowed the sour sensation that left me with and trudged on.

Within an hour I found a perfect spot to stake out. It was high and secluded enough to see the warehouse and its surroundings without a problem if I used a telescope, while I wouldn’t be risking being seen by the people on the street. It faced the second exit, which must have been used by Hoseok enough to escape my notice the first time around. In two days, I’d return here and watch.

It almost felt like things were looking up, like I could finally stop mindlessly following Yoongi around and move forward with this case, and for the first time after a long time I felt some sort of joy and relief.

I reached into my pocket to take out my phone and take a photo of the number on a nearby column, so I’d be able to find it easily again, but found it missing. For a hot moment of panic I thought maybe I had dropped it somewhere around Yoongi’s club, which would mean he now no doubt had it and I’d have to go get it from him, and it would be extremely embarrassing. But then I realised I must have left it at my table at the station that morning when I stopped by to hand deliver some documents to Park. I looked around to find something that would immediately catch my eye upon entering, but in the end I decided to just luck it out and left.

On my way home I’d stopped by the station for the phone and ended up having a coffee with Minjoon. For a brief moment, when I sat in a cafeteria, drank that shitty coffee and laughed at some story Minjoon was telling me about his first few months in the force, I found myself thinking I wish all my days were this nice.

I should have known it wouldn’t last, though.

Due to the fact that it was still January, I was absolutely freezing my balls off on stake out the next few days. Sitting in an open room in minus temperatures staring into a telescope the whole day turned out to be a pretty bad way to spend one’s time and quickly I was turning very cranky. I was hungry, cold, thirsty and even though Hoseok turned up and took the back entry, he just sat there for the whole day and didn’t come out until evening. I was mostly just watching some of the low-tier mobsters mulling about, moving about crates, caring for the ships and continuously walking in and out of the warehouse. Which was something I had already seen when I was staking out here before.

It seemed that the reason Hoseok was so hard to find was because he spent literal days holed up in that metal building, doing god knows what.

On my fourth day I was absolutely losing it. I spent the morning at the station and then went straight here. Hoseok’s car was already present, but other than that there was no other trace of his existence, just like the other days. He didn’t even come outside to smoke like Namjoon would. Not one of the other boys came here either, which was weird since they always seemed to be in close vicinity of each other. I was tired and frozen and I could feel the beginnings of a nasty cold and I was getting nowhere.

My day got exponentially more interesting though, when Yoongi’s black car rolled up to the back exit. It was the first time in the four days he came here, and the first time since I’d started tailing him that he came to this exit. That should have been my first warning.

I watched as Yoongi walked around free of all troubles, wide smile on, and if I wasn’t currently more than 100 metres away from him, I’d punch him in the face. The door opened and Hoseok stepped out to greet him. I could cry with happiness at the first appearance of the man in days. And also punch him in the face. Together they disappeared inside, and I was left with the same sorry view as before.

Impatiently watching the clock, I saw the minutes drift away into two hours of silence and no movement in the back. Just when I thought about just slipping into a coma to escape this hellhole, I heard movement outside my little spot. Instantly alerted, I quickly stood up and pressed myself closer to a wall where I wouldn’t be immediately noticeable from the entrance into the room. My whole body was stiff from coldness and hours of just sitting, my muscles protesting and painfully pulling until I was barely able to hobble away.

The steps got closer and closer until a figure clad in all black stepped in. For a moment I thought it was Jungkook and was a second away from wailing in frustration, but it wasn’t him. It was a young man, based on his clothes he must have been part of Yoongi’s security, but I didn’t remember his face from before.

He located me in a second – after all, there weren’t many places I could be hiding in a completely bare concrete room. Without a word he thrust his hand to me. My eyes slid down to see a take-out coffee. When I wasn’t taking it, he impatiently moved his hand, trying to get me to relieve him of this definitely extremely bothersome task.

I did take it, mostly because I didn’t want to annoy him more when Yoongi was already doing such a good job of it and sighed in defeat. How the fuck did he even sniff me out here? The guy looked at me and then said: “Boss wanted me to tell you that he truly thinks it’s admirable how hard you work in such cold weather.” His face was completely unreadable, but I knew he must have thought this was such a laughable situation.

I wanted to feel angry, I really did, but I didn’t even have the strength to do it. Instead I sighed and pinched the root of my nose between my fingers. Frustration coursed through me and now I was annoyed with Yoongi too. Did he become omnipotent or what?

I returned the poor guy’s gaze and said: “Please send a message back. Tell him that he’s annoying and I hate him.” He nodded and left, no expression on his face. A true professional.

From then on, whenever I got closer to them, Yoongi would send me a subtle message that he knew about me. Either he would send me food or drinks or just stand in my line of sight and wave in my direction. Sometimes when I knew he could see me too I returned the gesture by flipping him off, to which he always laughed. Taehyung also caught on and to any birds sent their way he sent back a kiss and a wink.

It took me embarrassingly long to figure out that they planted a tracker on me. One night in a mad fit to find it I turned upside down most of my apartment. At 3 am I was standing on the street, pawing at my bike like a crazy person, attempting to stuff my fingers to all the nooks and crannies. A passing woman looked at me as if I was sexually harassing my own vehicle and after that I rather returned back home, not interested in getting the cops called on me.

Every time I went to stake out, I would leave home an item, just to try and narrow down where it could possibly hide. I decided to trust that my bike was tracker free and I bought myself a set of completely new clothes even though I thoroughly checked the old ones. I would wear different shoes, even if I knew there was no way they got to them. One day I even chanced moving about without my wallet. They still found me. And that’s how I realised what the only thing that I had on me all the time, no matter what was. My phone.

I thought back to the day I stormed into Yoongi’s office, distraught and upset, how he acted strangely nice and comfortable. Taehyung’s strange behaviour and my phone. Lying on a table, away from me, but close to Yoongi wandering around. He was messing about that table even when I stayed sitting on that damned couch.

All I could do was laugh at his craftiness. At how easily I fell into a trap of his softer demeanour because I was surprised he sat on the floor and talked seriously, how I let Taehyung completely consume my focus by flirting and teasing me. I had to applaud them, really. It was brilliant and I walked right into it. I was so stupid, I let him fool me even though I was suspicious of him the entire time.

At first I feared he was tracking me through the phone itself, but when I inspected it closer, I noticed a little bump under the case. When I took it off the phone, there it was. A tiny little tracker attached to the plastic.

I wondered what Yoongi was trying to accomplish. He put a tracker on me, but then also made it obvious that he knew more about my whereabouts than he was supposed to. He was quite literally giving it away. Therefore, knowing about the tracker didn’t necessarily put me at an advantage since I had no idea what his goal was. I decided to keep it there until I made up my mind about what to do.

But I was petty. Really petty. And as impressed as I was with my ability to fall for Yoongi’s cheap tactics, I was also peeved. That’s how one day I found myself at our station, loitering around an office where the IT guys had their stuff. When one of them rounded the corner, I immediately took my chance. It took a lot of persuading and lying. A lot of “I’m from this department” and “I was tasked with getting one for the next mission” and such, but twenty minutes later, I was leaving the room with a tracker of my own. Was it technically illegal? Yes. Would Yoongi find the tracker within the first 24 hours and then triumphantly return it to me while telling me to try better next time and I would return it right after before anyone noticed I ever had it in the first place? Also yes. No harm done, just a little revenge.

After that, every day for a week I went straight to Yoongi’s office. Whether I was on duty or not, every afternoon I was sitting on his stupid little sofa, grinning at him mischievously and sipping on tea that he started offering me instead of stiff drinks. I would find anything to talk about, I joked and played and asked stupid questions I knew he’d never answer.

And I could see it on him, he was trying to figure out where this was going. He would look at me, intrigued and confused, his head just whirring with ideas of what my new plan could be, and I was enjoying it so much. Sometimes he’d just stare at me in that way he did to people, and I’d stare right back at him and I was able to laugh. For the first time it felt like we both were trying to catch the other off guard, and not as if I was just mindlessly walking straight into his traps. For a few brief moments, the scales were balanced, and I liked that I was able to keep him in suspense. But I also had to move on from this.

At first his eyes would follow my every move, sharply watching me interact with things he had in his office, but once he'd become used to my presence, become used to how I hovered over things and examined the décor and played with the little trinkets he had on display, I was sometimes able to slip his attention. And then, on the seventh day, when he left the room for a split second to call for Jungkook down the hall, I slipped the tracker into a little tear I had noticed on his jacket, along with a little surprise for him, when he found it (which would be soon).

I walked out of there without saying much, wearing a mysterious smile on my lips when both men turned to watch me leave. Once outside, I took the tracker off my phone and slipped it into the bag of a random guy passing me by on the street. Let’s see how long before they figure that one out.

The game was on.

Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: thank you so much for reading this! i hope you enjoyed yourself, feel free to interact, i will be grateful for comments or asks of all sorts :)

Divider from the amazing @saradika-graphics &lt;3

Taglist (open) : @wobblewobble822

[lisbeth-kk]

Pomp and Circumstance

(wip for the September Fluffbruary Extended Edition)

Distracting myself from nail biting and hair pulling, while I wait for my beta to give feedback on the next chapter of my FTH fic, by writing.

Three snippets from three of the characters.

Mycroft Holmes was the epitome of everything subtle, elegant and sophisticated. Not since university had anyone seen him in anything but his three-piece- suit. He’d practised fencing for years, but he hadn’t touched his fencing sword since Alastair drowned on holiday in the Caribbean. They’d been fencing partners since their teens, and Alastair’s demise was a terrible loss. The grieving of his friend and lover was postponed by another soul in need. Sherlock.

***

Greg Lestrade was the exact opposite of Mycroft Holmes; straightforward, plain, hot-tempered. No elegance or sophistication detected. At least not for ordinary people. Much like John Watson, Greg went unnoticed by the crowds. Only at work did he shine. Not according to Donovan and Anderson, but to his superiors. His solving rate sky-rocketed the second he allowed Sherlock Holmes to attend his crime scenes.

***

Molly Hooper has always, always fallen in love with the wrong men. Either they were married, arseholes, or gay. Normally, she got over them after a few months, and when her eyes caught another man to pine over, her previous infatuation was instantly forgotten. It went on for years, and it was fine. She knew she would be satisfied with crumbs of what was allotted to her when the men in question looked in her direction, and on rare occasions established contact. It only lasted for so long, though. Until she met Sherlock Holmes.

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

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[paragonrobits]

thinking about how Magneto's iconic helmet in X-Men 97 is mostly not used at all in the entire series, and as he only wears it when he has a temporary backslide to his villain ideology (framed both as a desperate hopelessness that they can live in peace with humanity, and a fundamentally supremacist/isolationist ideology regarding mutants as superior to humans), the framing kind of suggests that his helmet is a sign of him being a supervillain.

When Magneto wears the anti-psionic helmet, he's way more guarded looking. It casts most of his face into shadow. It obscures him, leaving him ambigious looking, just as much as a viewer might be unsure of how much of Magneto's change of motives is entirely genuine or if he's playing a long-term scheme of some kind.

But he looks radically different without the helmet. He's... exposed, open and revealed. We see his whole face, and his hair; it cuts a dramatic air, almost a romantic novel's protagonist.

Magneto's helmet cuts him off from others. He wears it and hides himself, his intentions and his genuine feelings behind a persona.

He puts on the helmet, most notably, when in the wake of despair and hitting his point of no return, his horror at his inability to save so many of his people and obsessively fixating on the image of a young boy (who was so openly mutated that he couldn't live among humans) whom Magneto told that he would finally be safe, he becomes a living embodiment of vengeance and retribution against all humankind for the crimes that Bastion committed.

And when Xavier speaks directly to him, in the wake of the literal oceans of pain he suffers under, that's what makes him break out of it.

The helmet conceals, but it guards him against the suffering and horror he endures. He wears the helmet not least because he is not nearly as dedicated to his crusade as he appears. He doesn't want to do this things; deep down, he doesn't want to be a supervillain. He genuinely does believe that his world is a shared world, and that in his most wild of dreams, his people and the rest of humanity live in peace together. But after all the things he's seen, all the horrors he has personally suffered through or failed to stop, he can't believe its really possible. Magneto kills without hesitation or pity, but he doesn't want to.

He just can't really bring himself to believe that a future together is possible. Every single fiber of his being screams 'this will happen again, and it will keep happening, until no one is left who can do it to your people'.

And Xavier can talk Magneto into hoping otherwise.

The helmet serves many purposes. But one of them is that without it, Magneto would be unable to carry out his actions, because Xavier can connect to him.

[ozarkthedog]

Happy birthday Ozzie, and congratulations on your follower milestone!!! You beautiful bean, I'm so glad this hellsite put us in each others' paths.

📝 For location-based smut prompt, Tim Rockford and dealer's choice of

public -8 inside one muses’s office. OR public 9 - inside a third party’s office they shouldn’t have access to. 

Just need this man to get freaky with me in an office setting is what I'm saying because look at him:

😭 i’m thankful everyday that we’ve gotten so close! here’s my token of gratitude. 😘💙

18+ mdni. Tim Rockford x f!reader. oral sex (fem receiving). public but private setting — office. special guest.

This is so wrong. 

It was bad enough that Tim was your superior and that you'd been sneaking around for the last month, fucking each other whenever he had a few moments of free time, but using a random co-worker's office? That was flat out stupid. 

Tim drops to his knees in the small room, making quick work of your skirt and hooking one of your legs over his leather holster encased shoulder.

He breathes in deep as he presses the lower half of his jaw against your panty clad mound. "Been thinkin' about this sweet pussy all day." He holds your weary gaze as he slots the thin material to the side and latches his lips around your clit.

Your fingers card through his hair, tugging just so to make him groan into your slick heat. His tongue dances along your slit, dipping between your folds, earning him soft hisses and mewls from your gasping lips.

This is sure to blow up in your faces, but as Tim slides two thick fingers into your dripping core and rubs expertly against your slick walls, you couldn't care less.

"Shit- you're fuckin' soaked." Tim groans as your velvet walls mold to the shape of his girthy digits.

Your spine bows against the corkboard nailed to the wall; it's pinned with a precise diary of information: crime scene photos, newspaper clippings, and various stake-out notes. The small plastic tac heads dig into your skin as Tim sucks your clit into his mouth and vibrates the little button with a deep groan.

Your chest heaves under your blouse as the pleasure steadily mounts. Your hips move on their own, grinding against Tim's stubble and tongue. Brute hands circle your hips, keeping you safe and balanced as your peak draws closer.

He leans back on his heels and stares up at you. His cheeks are flushed a desert pink, and his lips glisten under the dim light as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on my tongue. Wanna taste you." Tim husks before diving back into your cunt with a feral energy you'd only come to know since being with him.

Your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure envelopes you, drowning all your senses. Had your eyes been open, you would've seen the shadowy figure slink through the door just as you were starting to come.

A heavy wave of arousal coats Tim's tongue as he pushes it further into your drenched hole. He grunts at your taste, greedily drinking you down and licking every creamy drop from your swollen cunt as you bite back the wanton moans that threaten to slip from your lips. 

Tremors rake your body as you catch your breath and come back into your body. The foreign, bitter smell of smoke perks your senses. Your heart slams into your throat as a red ember glows from a dark corner of the room. 

"You put on quite a show, Gatita." A deep voice praises from the black abyss. 

Tim moves lightning fast, spinning on the spot and shielding your body from the unknown figure.

Javier Pena steps into the light. Your co-worker and whose office you now had the pleasure of corrupting. 

He stalks toward his desk with a glint in his eye, pinning you and Tim to the floor as he retrieves a folder that's left on top of a mess of papers.

The men exchange silent words while Javier takes a long drag from his cigarette. Tim relaxes, his broad shoulders slightly sagging once he realizes the threat is neutralized. Javier smirked at your wide eyes while he exhaled a lungful of smoke toward the ceiling.

"You should lock the door next time," Javier suggests as he moves to leave. He hesitates, hand perched on the shiny, brass knob before looking over his shoulder. "Unless you're looking for a third person to join." 

Ozzie’s 11k birthday sleepover

[aemonds-wifey]

Warrior Queen & Holy King

Chapter 1

Summary: As heir to the throne of your fathers kingdom you have finally won back your crown , now justice is served it is time to pick up the pieces of your old life…and your old love , the baby Monk

The winds howls echoed through the open , cold castle courtyard . A small scaffold was built by the tower, you stood by the small almost ornate wooden block fashioned for the execution.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, the nobles had gathered to witness this, you stood in your elegant armour- a steal breastplate covered with a cloak made of black and green colours that intertwined with each other.

Then the crowd turned , Two men, arguably two of your best fighters, Finan and Sihtric - followed by loyal banner man brought him to you , Haesten- bloody, battle worn and in chains. Your eyes never left him as they brought him over the light blanket of snow towards you, a rage that had burnt inside you was beginning to dwindle…seeing him helpless and take his final steps up the scaffold- you felt nothing.

When the siege was finished , only Haesten had remained alive, you offered clemency to him- but he openly tried to attack you when you dropped your guard. Only to be taken down by your superior fighting skills, you decided then and there he would answer for his crimes, by execution- by your royal decree.

They dropped him before the block, forcing him on his kneees , he now knelt before the block- at your mercy.

“Do you have any last words?” You asked inhaling the crisp thin air , the wind howled as the light snowfallHaesten ,at spat at your feet - you did not flinch, she only looked down at him pitifully. Finan moved his leg to kick the man about to meet his death but too held your hands up to stop him.

After all these years, all the torment you had suffered- the years in exile you spent away from your home and fighting to survive. Here you stood. Hands firmly on your sword, ready to behead the man who had brought her so much pain and suffering . The man who murdered your parents, tried to kill you in an attempt to take your throne was now going to face justice. Sihtric had offered to behead him by his own hand, but you insisted you passed the sentence, therefore you must be the one to swing the sword.

You gently knelt down , her face inches away from Haestens , your long silver blonde plaited hair that rested over your shoulder almost touched the ground, you paused before

Opening your mouth to speak.

“This is too good a death for you….but I intend to be a just ruler…to show my people that I will not be the wretch you tried to make me….”

Haesten watched as you rose to your feet, firmly holding the sword handle with both hands - you took a moment and in mere moments, you brought the sword down and severed Haestens head away from his body. His head rolled down off the scaffold and into the snow. He was dead. The people watching did not gasp, they looked on as the tyrant they had suffered for five years was brought to a swift end.

Your squire offered his hands to take your sword, you handed it over to him. Watching as the body was taken away to be burnt , after the head was collected you left the scaffold.

Overcome with emotion you sought refuge by the fire in the council room, as you walked through the many hallways of the old castle you were greeted with smiles and bows. This was the first time you had retraced your steps in the castle since that fateful night , It was still so alien to you, when you were named as your fathers heir you were immediately bewildered by the sudden responsibility on your shoulders - your mother was equally proud of this decision, your parents commanded great respect as rulers of their kingdom and they had bestowed it onto you , their only child. Guided by your parents you started your journey onto becoming a worthy ruler …but then it all changed on the stormy late summers night upon your fifteenth winter.

Haesten sought to claim the throne, believing he was more worthy than a girl , he attacked with a cold fury that shocked you to your very core. After he had slain your mother , he held your father atop of the balcony overlooking the large courtyard , you were stood at the iron gate, your fingers gripped on the metal and only watching at the horror before your eyes. Haesten made the foolhardy offer to spare him and let him wallow in exile if you agreed to marry Haesten. Before you could even refuse, your fathers actioned echoed your thoughts. He elbowed Haesten and screamed at you to run, you could only watch as Haesten mortally wounded your father and tossed him aside over the edge of the balcony. The high pitched scream that left your ears only amplified throughout the stone work of the castle, as you were dragged away to safety- the last thing you saw was Haesten crowning himself with the precious crown he had removed from your fathers head after throwing him over the balcony.

A knock on the door turned your attention away from your memory.

“Yes?” You asked removing the cloak from your shoulders.

Uhtred stepped in , bowing his head slightly. Closing the door behind him.

You smiled warmly, Uhtred was the man who saved you from the burning tower the night Haesten sacked the castle, Uhtred taught you to fight and how to prepare to take back your crown.

He looked so proud of you “Haesten is dead I hear?”

You nodded “Swiftly and quickly. More than he deserved.” You said

Uhtred agreed “true…but you have shown you are stronger …takes courage to not butcher a man out of anger …”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as you inhaled slowly

“And now you will be a Queen…the mightiest warrior Queen this land has seen.” He said

“Uhtred I could not have survived without you, Finan , Sihtric all of you…I’m eternally in your debt…” you said humbly.

“You have overcome great odds…to win back your throne is no easy feet but you did it…and now the usurper is dead.” He spoke leaning against the stone wall folding his arms.

You inhaled stepping away from the fire, looking briefly at the table littered with open parchments and rolled up scrolls. So much was to be done. You gripped the table end with two hands, looking at the map that was now your kingdom, you looked at Uhtred “I thought you would have wanted to witness his end?” You asked

“I was taking care of another matter …” he said with a glimmer of hope.

“The prisoners…?” You asked standing up straight.

Uhtred nodded only once. “We found them…housed at the great castle on the coast…” he said.

Your heart churned at his words “You mean…? He’s alive?”

Uhtred smiled “Very much…and very eager to see you.”

Your hands clasped over your chest for a moment and your exhaled “Osferth…” knowing he was alive was the greatest news you could have received. Your hand moved to the gap between your tunic and you fished out the small necklace you wore, on a silver chain the pendant was that of a small cross. You held it closely to your lips.

Chapter 2

TAGS

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[4ce-of-2pades-inkwell]

I’ve been watching/listening to those SCP videos on YouTube while I draw Cuphead stuff, so it was only a matter of time before I came up with a crossover AU:

Dr. Manuel Animi is a young but talented scientist rising up through the SCP Foundation. He has a particular interest, fascination, obsession even, with SCPs that break the laws of reality, or that are beyond comprehension. Merely out of scientific curiosity, of course, nothing more... He spent many years working with eldritch beings such as… well, I can’t remember any off the top of my head, but things along the lines of what Cthulhu was expected to be, not his SCP reality. Dr. Animi had a better capacity than most for withstanding the dangerously incomprehensible, a mental tolerance for things that would drive an average person to insanity, but he was still human, and many times was affected to the degree of needing prolonged therapy or even intense medical treatment to recover. He would always return to his work with a passion as soon as possible, but eventually he was banned from working with any SCP classified as a significant mental hazard. His superiors claimed he had reached the lifetime exposure limit that was protocol (similarly to scientists working with radiation), and they cited his hair, which had changed from red to pure white as a result of the horrors he had seen, as proof he had been at this long enough to be at risk of permanent mental damage. They claimed his relocation to other SCPs was for his own safety, and that they did not want to lose such a bright scientist, but this was a lie. In truth, Dr. Animi’s obsession with these eldritch beings and mind-breaking ideas concerned them. They saw a high probability that Dr. Animi would not stay content with his permitted research, and would attempt to use the anomalies for his own purposes, becoming a threat. In short, he liked his work too much. If he had refused the ban on his area of study, he would have been deemed too far under its thrall, and would have been terminated. So Dr. Animi now works with other anomalies, though is not satisfied with his current work, and is biding his time for an opportunity to reenter his preferred field.

Chase Animi is a gambler. Addicted to it. This has caused him to go deep into debt, and in and out of prison. Any attempt to keep a job or build any kind of stable life is sabotaged by this addiction. He’s miserable, but he can’t stop. He falls in with shady crowds trying to pay back the money he owes, starts conning people for their cash, gets caught and put in jail again. He is not having a great time. One night, a bar fight gets a little too heated, and results in three men dead by Chase’s hand. If this isn’t enough of a crime to earn a death penalty, then he somehow does something else to earn his sentence. He ends up a D-class at the SCP Foundation. He is given cleaning duty for The Sculpture for several months, and as all goes to plan during that time, he survives without incident. Soon though, he is sent in to observe an SCP that affects a person’s mind—though he doesn’t know that yet. This is where he first interacts with Dr. Animi, who has just convinced the higher-ups that he should be allowed to study mind-altering SCPs again, if only ones of significantly less power and danger to himself. Chase doesn’t recognize the scientist that happens to share his name. But Dr. Animi recognizes him.

They’re twin brothers.

The two had parted ways years ago after an argument. Manuel had just joined the SCP Foundation as a scientist, and tried to convince Chase to apply as well, so they could stick together. Chase was furious with Manuel for wanting to retreat from society into a group of crazy all-powerful scientists, and for not telling him sooner that he was planning this. Chase wanted nothing to do with the Foundation or any organization like it. Manuel warned Chase that if he didn’t join the Foundation in some way, he would have to be given amnestics to forget its existence. Chase said that was fine by him, and that if Manuel wanted to leave him so badly, then he would be more than happy to forget his brother entirely. So Manuel, also caught up in anger, did exactly as he asked, erasing any trace of himself from Chase’s mind and leaving his brother for good, devoting his life entirely to the Foundation. Chase’s life, meanwhile, fell into disarray. It is possible that the careful amputation of such a constant presence in every single one of Chase’s memories negatively altered his mind in such a way that predisposed him to his addiction. With the sudden lack of something he had depended on all his life, he needed to depend on something else…

Dr. Animi recalled Chase from his current assignment before its effects could take a stronger hold, and through application of his recent research, was able to produce a near-total recovery. Dr. Animi then told Chase that they were brothers, and explained what had happened to cause his amnesia about their shared past. Chase was furious with Dr. Animi for destroying his memories of him, and disgusted that he would not only commit unethical experimentation, but do it to his own brother. Chase refused to speak to Dr. Animi further, but Dr. Animi still wanted to help Chase. He knew there were a few rare cases of D-class not only surviving their ordeals, but being allowed to reenter society and live ordinary lives. Only a handful of cases, out of innumerable casualties, but if Dr. Animi played his cards right, he could save Chase.

There was an SCP that had been discovered earlier that year (let’s say this takes place in 1973 I guess), SCP-666. That one that tempts people with addictions. Very few D-class had been tested with it so far, and all had died as a result of succumbing to their addictions, but Dr. Animi had a theory about the nature of SCP-666, and he was going to bet his brother’s life on it. He contacted the team studying SCP-666 and recommended Chase as a test subject, highlighting the strong gambling addiction that had been the root cause of every crime Chase had ever committed. The team had tested subjects with substance addictions, but had yet to try addictions of any other nature. They accepted Chase as their next subject.

Dr. Animi insisted on being the one to deliver the D-class to his destination. Chase refused to speak to him, but Dr. Animi whispered that he was doing everything he could to save Chase’s life. This was his best chance at not only survival, but escape. If Dr. Animi was right, SCP-666 was not a death sentence, but a test. Any D-class subjected to it who was not already an addict had seen no ill effects—666 did not compel a person to act against their will, at behaviors that were not their own, but merely encouraged existing addiction until it reached the point of death. If Chase could resist 666’s temptations, he may be released alive, and in order to study the long-term effects on his addiction, Chase would need to be introduced back into the wider world, where he could be monitored in his natural environment with its usual available temptations. Dr. Animi would convince the Foundation, somehow, that Chase could not be exposed to any other SCP without destroying a valuable research subject. All Chase needed to do was not die from SCP-666. An even more difficult task, as there was not much opportunity to gamble in containment, and Chase was feeling withdrawal. Dr. Animi had a theory, but the facts (which Chase was not supposed to be told) said that everyone who had faced this SCP had died. So why not live it up one last time before he went? What did he have to lose? What did he have to go back to? And yet, this addiction had destroyed his entire life. If he was going to meet his end… what if he could win, just once, over that all-consuming force? Win something not through luck, but through skill, through willpower?

Well, he’s going to try. He doesn’t anticipate an outcome where he survives. He’s not doing this because he believes he’ll be freed, in any sense of the word. He’s doing this to spit in the face of 666-1, and prove to himself that he has control in his life, even if that life is about to end.

Also, there’s one last thing you should know about Chase. See, that mind-altering SCP he did a brief stint with? Well, I looked pretty unassuming. Just a plain white cup sitting on a table. Chase didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for. And he certainly didn’t realize when he started talking about me in the first person. My effects can end pretty badly for those exposed. Usually, they end up drowning themselves, often with tea. But Dr. Animi caught Chase’s symptoms early, and managed to talk him out of being a danger to himself. He was unable to be convinced that he was not, in fact, a cup like me, but Dr. Animi twisted this belief into something safer. Chase had arms and legs, right? And eyes and a nose and a mouth? He repeated this often, making Chase locate these attributes on himself, until he finally believed it to be true. He was a person, who had different needs than a cup. But he was also a cup, there was no talking him out of that. Dr. Animi could only do so much. Instead, he worked with Chase to develop a persona that became his new self-image, a persona that was, of course, still a cup, but functioned a lot more like a human. Chase once again understood himself to need sleep and food and air, and to be susceptible to death under many conditions that an average non-person cup would thrive in. And despite an insistence that his hair be constantly damp with tea or milk or coffee, Chase was deemed able to live normally again, thanks to a little outside-the-box thinking on Dr. Animi’s part. After all, Dr. Animi understood that you don’t necessarily have to see the world in a way that makes sense to anyone else to live a good life. You don’t have to be one hundred percent “sane.” Sometimes your life can even be better if you let yourself go a little crazy…

[purplehanfu]

Warrior: Episode 1

notes: Spoilers! It's the 4th of July! (that's not the spoiler) Master list of all recaps

An American show? In my primarily cdrama blog? Sure, why not. The show is Warrior and the first two seasons were on Skinemax Cinemax so you know it has all the non-stop swearing, graphic violence and gratuitous nudity one expects from premium cable. What an unwelcome detour from my usual fare! And that's not even taking into account all the crimes against costuming:

All of this character’s outfits look like things you would wear to seduce Captain Kirk. Everyone else gets to be from 1878, however. More on this phenomenon later.

Read on!

The Story            

It's 1878 and we are on the docks of San Francisco. Debarking from the hold of a ship that has just arrived from China is Ah Sahm- he's a master of martial arts (of course) who speaks perfect English due to having an American grandfather (sure), and has a head of artfully tousled modern hair filled with styling product (everyone else has a queue though). Side note: get used to this inconsistency in character styling. Why has Ah Sahm undertaken this arduous journey? He's here to look for his sister Mai Ling who ran away from an abusive marriage to a despotic warlord. Did I mention she only married him in exchange for her brother's life? Achievement unlocked: tragic backstory.

time to first altercation: 3 minutes 33 seconds

Due to his superior fighting skills Ah Sahm gets sold to the Hop Wei Tong (a tong is secret society that was often the front for organized crime) by Wang Chao whom I adore. 

Loveable sleazeball Wang Chao is consistently the smartest man in the room- loyal to none and profiting from all.

Ah Sahm impresses his new Hop Wei manager with his fighting skills and as a reward gets to go on a work outing to a local brothel where we meet Ah Toy, the madam. 

I hope she has that on her LinkedIn profile!

Ah Sahm immediately asks her and all the ladies there if any of them know his sister. Dude you had weeks on that ship to think up a plan, and this is the best you can come up with?

But Ah Sahm isn't the only one investigating here in Chinatown. We also meet "Big Bill" O'Hara an Irish police officer who was voluntold to be the head of a new task force looking into anti-Chinese crime. The only other member of his task force? Richard Henry Lee, the new recruit from Savannah Georgia. Many of the police, including O'Hara, are union veterans of the civil war. This brings up a certain amount of awkwardness. Richard mentions that even though he was too young to fight, the Civil War destroyed his family:

oof.

Ah Sahm doesn't have to look too hard for Mai Ling; she comes looking for him. Their reunion isn't very sweet- she tells him she's done waiting for others to rescue her and she is now her own #girlboss. 

To that end, she's married the aged head of a rival Tong, the Long Zii. She's the one running the Long Zii's business from the shadows. Oops, maybe Ah Sahm shouldn't have joined the first Tong he ran across. Now the siblings are on opposite sides of a war that's brewing in Chinatown.

It's Dark in Here

Both the subject matter and the actual show. There's quite a lot of graphic violence even outside the choreographed fight scenes. No spitting blood here, we're just straight up hitting people in the face with hammers. 

When all you have is a hammer, anything in the dark might be a nail

The show itself was shot in that murky unlit way that gritty action shows use to say "this is so intense that you don't need to see it". Don't worry, we'll soon be getting an eyeful of other things:

Nudity

Wow! You won't be seeing this on Chinese television anytime soon. 

Or this!

I would like to point out that we see full frontal on the ladies but no action jangling on the men. Another win for the patriarchy, I guess. But things only get nominally better when the clothes go back on:

Costuming

Look, I get it. This is meant to be in the style of an old western, so historical accuracy might not be a top priority. However, it is so jarring to see everyone in a reasonable approximation of 1870's clothing with the exception of a few characters- namely Ah Toy and Mai Ling. Make of that what you will. It really takes the viewer out of the show to have some characters dressed like this:

And to make it worse, these costumes are all wildly unflattering and poorly constructed. Olivia Cheng, the actress who plays Ah Toy is objectively a beautiful woman. Why are they doing this to her? Who wants a dress that pulls focus to your inner thighs? And go back to the picture at the beginning of this review- the thigh slit (very Victorian) on that green gown has wonky seams and the neck piece(?) looks like it’s bolstered with a cardboard insert. Again I ask why. 

Below: is this a bathing suit cover up? Are we headed to brunch at the beach?

This red look is giving “Mars Attacks but make it prom night”.

I don’t know what’s going on here but I do know that if you want to see what Ah Toy might have actually been wearing in the 1870′s, you can do no better than Chinese fashion history ramblings by @audreydoeskaren​. I’ve learned a lot there!

In Conclusion

The Good

I had a $2 digital credit from amazon, so this episode was free.

Opening theme song pretty good

Hoon Lee as Wang Chao 

Based on a show idea by Bruce Lee, hopefully his estate benefits from this

The Bad

Andrew Koji not selling it as a hero;  brings all the passion of running Saturday errands to his search for his sister. Nice abs, though.

Tom Weston Jones, who is British, playing a character from the deep south. At times his accent veers dangerously into Foghorn Leghorn territory. But I forgive him because he was Lt. Gore in The Terror.

Everything else outlined above

Bonus Round

We Now Resume Our Regularly Scheduled Programming:

oh thank goodness.

Master List of all recaps

[renee-writer]

Frank Chapter 75

AO3

She is out giving Wee Frank some fresh air when she sees them pull up. The fact they are Redcoats has her drawing him close to her side. Then she sees him.  Never in her life did she expect to see him again. Completely flustered, she places her son behind her back and lowers her head praying he won’t recognize her.

 

“You, kitchen winch, I have an appointment with your Laird.”

 

“Aye. He be in his office.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “As I have never been to this place, how would I know where it is? You will escort me.”

 

“Biggest pardon sir, but I have my son and … I will see that someone else…”

 

Wee Frank picks that particular moment to pop his head out. He has his father’s face but his hair has gone blonde, thank the Saints.

 

“Very well then,” She breathes out in relief taken her child’s hand. Then he gives her a second look, “Wait don’t I know you?”

 

“Good sir, I cannot see how. I live and work here.”

 

He lets it go but follows her with a frown as he and his men lead the horses in.

 

She breaths easier once she  hands off the guests to Murtagh. She takes her son in her arms and hurries away.

 

“Who was that?” Black Jack asks his escort.

 

“Mistress Wolverton and her son Wee Frank.”

 

“Mistress, she is married then?”

 

“Widowed.” He gives the man a stern look. The man isn’t a stranger to him, though he prays he doesn’t recall their other encounter. The fact he is kin to the late Mr. Wolverton is obvious. They are still trying to find a suitable match for Laoghaire. It isn’t him though. There is something quite unsettling about him.

 

“Captain Randall, thank you for coming by.” Colum stands, flanked by Dougal and Ned.

 

“An invitation I couldn’t refuse. It isn’t often I am invited into a Scottish keep.”

 

Laoghaire runs to the bedchamber of Mistress Fraser.

 

“Forgive my intrusion.” Hastily said.

 

“It is alright.” Claire has just fed Arabella and changed her clod. The baby, a week old now, lays sleeping beside her.

 

“Baby.” Wee Frank spots her.

 

“Aye darling. She is quite wee. Look but no touch.”

 

Claire smiles. The lass is becoming an excellent mam.

 

“Did you come to see her?”

 

“Nae, not that she isn’t beautiful. I needed a place to hide out while he is here.”

 

A frown as she sits farther up. “Who?”

 

A quick look to her son before she moves closer to her. She whispers. “His real father.”

 

“Aye. We have a spot of business to discuss.”  Colum takes his seat and all follow, all but Dougal, who stands behind his Laird.

 

“Well, I am intrigued.”

 

“You have a price on my nephew ‘s head. I want it removed.”

 

“Do you now? Why should I do that?”

 

“So this isn’t sent to your superiors.” Ned hands Colum the petition he made up. Black Jack takes it and reads over it. Then again.

 

“None of this can be proven.” 

 

“We have witnesses, both Scottish and English.” Ned calmly replies.

 

“His father is…” her hand goes to her mouth. It makes sense though. The resemblance would be perfect, “a Redcoat Captain?”

 

“Aye. I dinna think he recalls me but… do you ken why he is here?”

 

“I do. Business with Colum.” The reason Jamie is in hiding at the Proctor and Mistress Duncan house with the other children.

 

“Do you think it will be long?”

 

“No. He should take his departure by the days end. If I would have known, I would have warned you.”

 

“He didn’t seem to pay much mind to Wee Frank.”

 

“Good.”

 

 

“If I say I will haul James Fraser away if you send this out?”

 

“He cannot be made to leave the keep by compulsion unless there is evidence of a crime, unless the Laird turns him over.” Ned explains.

 

“It is simple. Sign this statement, removing any charges against him, removing the price and this petition will never see the outside of this room.” Colum adds.

 

As much as he wants another chance to play with the striped back bloke, he is a realist and knows when he has been bested. He signs the document.

 

Walking out, he recalls where he knew the winch from. A quick mind does the math. Stopping right outside the walls, he turns.

 

“Captain?” one of the others asks.

 

“I am not leaving here without my son.”

[kindlespark]

Too shy .. but I do agree with you on the Cerebrocast not getting QQ 😔.

OMG HI TWITTER PERSON ok context for everyone else i’ve been listening to cerebrocast (who do not like quentin) but i personally have so many thoughts about quentin quire and i DO hate it because he’s the stupidest whitest bitch in existence.

the thing is that i need his story to have been about white trans/queer rage because he literally looks like he has pink hair and pronouns and something something he looks like a walking trans flag with the pink hair and blue psionics and he’s a fucking PHOENIX HOST. YOU KNOW, THE X-MEN’S MANIFESTATION OF FEMALE RAGE??? ANYWAY. its just nonsensical to me that in new x-men morrison chooses their incel school shooter allegory to be…. a punk counterculture radical anarchist mutant who is driven to action when he sees a (implied gay) mutant fashion designer/activist killed in a hate crime. like i just dont think morrison understands politics. it’s a story that demonises leftist radical protesting/riots, and implies the youth doing it are just fucked up/co-opting it for a trend, and are also just super addicted to drugs all the time lmfao. and it is even bizarrer in retrospect because everyone in comics and making comics now pretty much agrees now that magneto IS right. that is just how minority politics irl have developed!! charles’ assimilationist bullshit is long past!!

HOWEVER. i do think there is a way to redeem/fix that and that’s if we think of it as a story that demonises WHITE counterculture. if we take it as a story that’s like yeah, white leftism and white queer/trans rage without intersectionality is just white supremacy. that tbh is what it should’ve been and i’m never giving grant morrison that credit but that’s what i wanted bc my god white gays are annoying and quentin is like such a perfect encapsulation of that entitlement. tbh. i like him so much as a character but if i knew him irl i’d block him on all platforms and throw him off a cliff etc etc

like i think it’s fine to take quentin’s writing in riot at xavier’s at face value bc morrison WAS seemingly aiming for a criticism on how people co-opt politics to be trendy and as an outlet for more personal issues which does happen! i just think the optics are bizarre for that and it falls into wild horseshoe theory shit and i dont think it WORKS you know i think there’s more interesting ways to take that character that aren’t like “the youth’s anger and protesting and counterculture is stupid” especially because we don’t really HAVE any radical characters that arent consistently villainised. and i think people have tried to do that since wolverine and the x-men with a more defanged pathetic quentin who is i think bi now? idk last i remembered christina strain made him lie that benji was his boyfriend in gen x 2017 but does that count? have they said it more explicitly since then? who knows i dont remember either way i think he’s better having been kicked down a few rungs and given growth. i like that his biggest fear is losing his friends/community at school. im glad that ppl have made him more fun as a character now… but they’ve also done that while wiping the political beliefs/allegory out of his character and making him just that superior annoying dude instead of trying to tackle what it does mean for quentin to have a genuine rage and hatred for how the system oppresses and kills people like him. the story implies that rage was never really genuine and he was just acting out but that SUCKS and is BORING because fuck if im not also angry all the damn time about the state of the world! let us be angry about injustice without demonising that anger! like that is why i do think quentin does have a niche following of queer fans bc like for a moment we connected with that rage from a guy who looks like *waves hand in the air* that

also my hottest take that i got redpilled into via one article i read years ago is that i think idie/quentin/evan could’ve been the next insane phoenix jean/scott/logan love triangle. a LOT of work and writing would need to be done to actually make me care about quentin in any relationship but the potential was there and could’ve been great tbh. we’re long past that era now but sometimes i think about how i would reboot that whoooole schtick into something cohesive like it could’ve been a subversive little queer story of colour if watxm volume 2 wasnt just the quentin quire show and idie/evan got more spotlight and if it wasnt completely incomprehensible or had unfortunate art. BUT ANYWAY.

THIS GOT SO LONG AND IS SOOO INDECIPHERABLE SO SORRY ANON I JUST WANTED TO RANT AND TRULY TWITTER HAS A WORD LIMIT ❤️❤️ thank u for ur support ❤️❤️❤️

[astarab1aze]

➥ Crovita

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Enigma   [ Musaigen ] 02. Voice Claim. Arwen / Liv Tyler [ LOTR ] 03. VG Faceclaim. Nyotengu [ Dead or Alive ]

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Karasuka Kuraime   [ Redacted Information ] 02. Alias. Crovita   [ Primary name ] 03. Sex. All sex organs are cloacal. [ Female ] 04. Gender. Female    05. Age. 129, physically early-30s   [ Dependent ] 06. Birth Date. September 24th   [ Libra ] 07. Blood Type. Sub-type HAA+ 08. Race. Crow Harpy, Japanese by nationality ; Japanese by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single   [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Bisexual   [ Leans toward women ] 11. Residence. Chimachi, a hidden nightfolk haven in Tokyo, Japan 

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Her appearance is altogether rather youthful ; She has long raven hair that reaches the midpoint of her back, silky soft, an oil-slick shine to it, and she typically keeps it down with her fringe oscillating between hime-cut or straight-cut. Smooth and well-maintained. Her eyes are heterochromic, the right being piercing gold and the left a rich royal purple - a vivid representation of her magic as well as genetics. They are always framed by smoky eyeshadow and thick, long lashes. Her skin tone is a pale beige and she usually wears a layer of makeup that accentuates the curves and angles of her face, with winged eyeliner and a point at the inner corners of both eyes, black lipstick or gloss. She stands at an odd 6'1" / 185cm, rather tall and long-legged. She has a classic coke-bottle body shape, curvy and generally proportioned well, though her breasts are exceptional, pillowy, and just the sort of thing you'd want to rest your head on. She can be seen wearing modified kimono with gothic motifs, black, purple, and gold in color, as well as goth-style club outfits and really anything that highlights her sex appeal. She also wears a black crow skull half-mask to conceal her identity (and also for the aesthetic). Similarly to Asuka, she has beauty marks in random places on her body, with her most noteable being the one on her left breast and the other just below her lower lip (also on the left). While she's able to concel her harpy appearance, she is still very much a harpy ; Her feathers are sleek oil-slick, sweeping and sturdy, with her arms serving as her wings in much the same way as Asuka. Taloned fingers at the end to function as hands. Her tail feathers are long and some curve upward at the end, but are stiff and otherwise perfect for flight and balance. Both legs are relatively human to a certain point, til about mid-thigh, before making way for tufts of feathers, leather black skin, and finally more talons. She has a number of scars both on her face and all over her body, but she hides them with prejudice.

13. Equipment. Crovita is prepared for anything, so she's got a few infinite pockets sewn into her kimono and they're all filled with: Tungskin, singing stones, knives, explosive alchemical reagents, scrying glass, invisibility potions, healing draughts, a blackwyrm whistle, husbandry tools, witchlights, flamedancers, money, drugs, a cellphone, and honestly a lot more. 14. Occupation. JDR agent, specialized in organized crime & espionage ; She's effectively the equivalent to an FBI agent and has been working for the JDR for about 30 years. 15. Job Performance. Exceptional ; Her superiors at the JDR give her a lot of leeway in her work, allowing her the wiggle room to play both long and short games 16. Children. Asuka Kuraime (21M), whom she bore with Tethis Surna, a long-time close friend she was once married to for a decade or so (and also the longest living harpy possessing enough power to crack a planet). 17. Siblings. None

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. The night, night markets, making beefy men squirm, money, champagne, girl scout cookies, matcha lattes, black lipstick, anything that accentuates her cleavage, expensive lingerie, witch-fingers, bloody delights (high in iron!), flirting, drinking sake, ballroom dancing, gothic nightclubs, cute girls, fishnets, dried mackerel, plain white rice with bonito flakes and seaweed, anything Asuka does with his painting, Asuka's feathers, the picture of Asuka as a baby she keeps on her desk, etc.  19. Dislikes. Her JDR superiors, every government with an INC department, literally the INC, most criminals, most people, stuffy by the book types, not working / keeping herself busy, being controlled, cottonmouth cakes, scarbuncle cheese, daytime, the ocean, anyone with an ego the size of Texas, Sanguinarians, harpy hunters, etc. 

20. Positive Traits. Nurturing. Loving. Doting. Independent. Resilient. Resourceful. Intelligent. Motherly. Understanding. Playful. Protective. Careful. Deliberate. Thorough. Supportive. 21. Negative Traits. Secretive. Distrustful. Overbearing. Selfishly selfless. Blunt at times. Moody. Loud. Manipulative. Possessive. 22. Goals. To put away as many criminals as she can, even if that means sending them off to the Triangulary or prisons like it, to protect Asuka. 23. Desires. For Asuka to be happy. She wants nothing for herself. 24. Alignment. Neutral Good

25. Personality. Crovita is a very complicated woman. She comes across as a sensual delight, happy to make your night, pepper you with inky black kisses and dote on you till morning - and to a degree, she quite literally is. But you'll never know who she is, what's important to her, who's important to her, what her name is, if you'll see her again. She's mysterious and beautiful, and means business when it comes down to brass tacks; A brutal businesswoman with an appetite for control and long battles of attrition, choke out the competition. She uses her skills to tip the scales in her favor, always ensuring she comes out of any scenario on top, even when the outcome is too much of an unknown to even bother gambling with. A natural at negotiation, steering a conversation, and risk assessment. But she's horribly closed off from most emotional attachments, denying herself the distraction from work and Asuka. She's a focused, capable woman, and she's always got a trick up her sleeve in any given situation. But her love for her son may sometimes cloud her judgment. Anyone she loves especially will end up smothered by her in some way, whether by too thorough check-ins or by genuinely too much affection. She's overbearing and overprotective, and although it all comes from such a place of love and care, it is often too much. It's a good sign, if she feels protective like this toward you, but it can also be the opposite depending on your perspective.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Element, Talent, etc.

26. Element. Aerial, Necrotic, Shadow - high manipulation skill ; The older a harpy is, the more elements they can acquire and control, usually about every 50 years depending on the harpy. 27. Shapeshifting. Low-level Multishifting - she can transform into an odd array of animals and inanimate objects, though she is imperfect in practice ; If you know what to look for, you'll notice ; She can also hide her harpy features this way. 28. Utility. Illusions, dispelling, wards, binding, trapping, alchemy, husbandry, curses, magical theory & history, economics, investigation, forensics, criminal justice - she knows a lot of things and can put them well to practice. 29. Specialization. Shadow magic - the resulting sub-school of magic between necromancy and illusions ; This allows her to become a shadow, become invisible, manipulate shadows, create them, and just about everything else. She's quite adept at it too, being the modern pioneer of a lost school. 30. Graduate School. Chimachi Prefectural School & Tokyo Sorcier Academy - two of the several magic schools in Japan with astounding repute ; Dedicated and rigorous, the educational environment is competitive and tense, but focused entirely on quality.  31. Classification. Anthromorph, Shade-Class Retributor - anthromorphs are nightfolk with presenting beast-oriented primary or secondary physical characteristics ; A Shade-Class Retributor is more or less an agent dedicated specifically to undercover operations, organized crime, espionage, assassination, and long-term government investigations - versatile, and with much more responsibility.

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.

    Crovita learned early on in her life what it meant to be a harpy; Everyone in the world wanted her dead, if only to pluck the eyes from her head and rip the feathers from her skin - hell, even remove her talons for the especially horrific sorts of poisons. A harpy's body parts, physical manifestations of the avian creatures they were part, are incredibly valuable, containing within an untapped well of incredible magical power with specific natures. Eyes, especially, for an array of applications, feathers for flight and safety, talons for strength and death, organs for vitality, flesh for protection. She watched countless harpies die over the course of her life, slaughtered at the hands of harpy hunters and poachers all looking to sell harpy bodies for very expensive parts.

This did not serve to weaken her mentality, rather it strengthened it, pushing her to reach for balance in the world and safety for her people; And as she aged, as she grew, she honed a vast number of skills, training under Tethis Surna following her graduation from Chimachi Prefectural School - who fostered her unique talent for weaving types of magic together (necrotic, illusions) and creating new ones (shadow), thus reviving lost schools of magic. She learned a great deal from him, allowing her to steel herself and her resolve when she believed herself ready to take the next step and become a sorcier, a necessary evil. To make the world a better place for herself and people like her, for the family she one day hoped to have, she would have to be in peak condition, strong, fierce, and powerful, and suffer the consequences of it if necessary.

Somewhere along the way, she sort of fell in love with Tethis, around the early 90's; They'd already been together for years in a mentorship, what could be the harm? At about this time, she entered the Chimachi Sorcier Academy and began her training as a sorcier, not long after marrying Tethis. In this time, much of her focus was on her work, but inklings of that family she'd wanted came bubbling to the surface. Many discussions were had between her and Tethis, and it was clear that whatever children they had would not be born of love. Tethis was too cold, too mechanical, too logical, time having worn away the best of his emotions - she was just too blind and too busy to have seen it. Even so, she was resolved in thinking it wouldn't matter if Tethis loved their child or not; She would, and if it made matters better, she wouldn't hold him responsible for it - she just wanted a family. And he gave her one. Soon after, they filed for divorce; It was a clean break.

When Asuka hatched from his egg, Crovita fell in love all over again, and her life changed dramatically in the blink of an eye. Her sense of purpose was renewed, underscored, and highlighted, and she knew that no matter the circumstances, this baby was all that mattered. Unusual and weak though he was, at first. Still she loved him, even though he couldn't fly, even though his feathers were weak and flimsy, even though he had a weak constitution and looked a bit more like his father than she'd have liked - she loved him. He was precious, and she would protect him always, no matter the cost. She would need help, however, so she hired help and forged a vow of silence, magically preventing them from ever revealing any information about herself or Asuka, even under threat. Asuka was home-schooled, cared for by nannies, and kept under surveillance in order to protect him. Crovita couldn't take any risks, not with her baby.

She nurtured his every whim, however. If he wanted to dance, she'd hire a private instructor. If he wanted to play an instrument, she'd hire a private instructor. If he wanted to paint, if he wanted to sing, if he wanted to swim, anything he wanted - she'd hire someone to teach him how - always and exclusively harpies. Painting seemed to be what he liked best, so she nurtured this interest in particular, buying every kind of paint in every color, all sorts of paint brushes, canvas, you name it - and set him up with a meeting with Cedric Montgomery, a renowned gallery curator, critic, and seller. Asuka's natural talent and interest in the arts led him down a career path that would ensure his health and safety, especially given Cedric's generous funding of his artwork.

Around the time Asuka struck a deal with Cedric, Crovita met a young sorcier by the name of Kaede Shikabane, who she took quite a liking to. Being stuck at work the majority of her time, they became friends, and she took him under her wing, looking out for him, protecting him, and vouching for him if ever he needed it. In a sense, she saw him as a sort of...little brother, or even an adoptive son. She was the reason Senkei saw any consequences for what he did to Kaede, once she learned of it; They have a unique bond, and don't get to see each other much these days, but like Asuka, she would go to hell and back for him.

Presently, she's trying to strike a balance between work and motherhood (an endless process), to give Asuka more independence and hunting down harpy hunters (also an endless process).

[chernobog13]

AND THEN WE’VE GOT THESE THREE MOOKS...

In 1966 superhero mania was taking over everywhere, especially in comics.  Dell Comics, which had largely avoided superheroes up until then, was caught up in the mania as well.  The one-time world’s largest comic book publisher (their output dwarfed anything coming out of National/DC, Timely/Atlas, or any of the other big companies) decided to try their hand the superhero game.

Unfortunately, three of the superheroes they produced were pretty darn awful, and this is from an era FULL of new, awful superheroes (Archie Comics’ superhero version of The Shadow, Fatman the Human Flying Saucer, the Captain Marvel whose various body parts fly off to fight crime - just to name a few).

Yes, the lazy bums at Dell decided that, since the Universal Monsters were perennially popular with kids, they’d be even more popular as superheroes!

Man, were they ever wrong!

Dracula, Frankenstein and Werewolf (Dell couldn’t use the name “Wolfman” because it was trademarked by Universal Studios, whereas “Dracula” and “Frankenstein” are in the public domain) were launched in late 1966, and ran for three issues each.

The Dracula and Frankenstein books began with #2, as their first issues had been published a year or so earlier as (very loose) adaptations of the Universal films.  Werewolf was the only one of the three that got a real first issue.

Dracula was an unnamed descendant of the original bloodsucker.  He lived in Transylvania and worked as a medical researcher in an effort to rehabilitate the family name.  By ingesting a bat blood serum of his own invention he gained “vampire-like” abilities: he has a “built-in radar to see in the dark,” and could transform into a bat.  He trained his body to the peak of perfection, designed himself a costume (complete with a mask that only covered his nose!), and moved to America to fight crime.

Once in America, he adapts the secret identity of Al U. Card (get it?), which he tells people stands for Aloyisius Ulysses Card.  He also gains a girlfriend in debutante heiress B.B. Beebee, who in issue #4 (or #8 in the reprints) gains the same powers and becomes his sidekick, Fleeta.  She wears a costume similar to Dracula’s, but wears a mask that absolutely does not conceal her identity!

Fleeta also just happens to have an abandoned underground government radar facility on her family’s estate, which the pair can use as their base of operations.  But hey, too late!  The comic is cancelled.

Frankenstein related the adventures of an artificial man created in 1866 by “the Doctor.”  The doc’s creation has superior intelligence and the strength of fifty men.  He remained dormant in an abandoned castle somewhere in America for a whole century until a lucky strike by a lightning bolt revived him.  However, that long nap has left him with hair that’s gone white and a face that’s gone green.  He hides his features with a life-like rubber mask, adapts the name “Frank Stone” (after a rock with “Frank” written on it falls near him), and embarks on a mission to fight crime wearing a red leotard.

Disguised as Frank Stone and making his way to the nearest metropolis, he just happens to come upon a wealthy old man who knew “the doctor.”  The old man is dead within a few panels, but not before bequeathing his vast riches and butler upon Frank Stone.

Henry, like all good butlers, stumbles upon Frank’s secret identity.  He then becomes Frankenstein’s assistant in the unending fight against crime, although for them the fight ended with issue #4.

Whereas, Dracula and Frankenstein had at least some similarities with their monstrous namesakes, Werewolf had absolutely none.  Instead of being a lycanthrope, he is instead a secret agent outfitted with one of the most implausible costumes that gives him near-superhuman abilities.

And don’t forget that his face has been programmed via hypnosis so that he can change his features into “over thirty seven different people!”

This was Dell trying to strike gold by combining the super-popular spy fad (spies were EVERYWHERE in the 1960s, thanks to James Bond), monsters, and superheroes. 

Unfortunately for Dell the deadly combination of sub-par writing and art on these titles guaranteed that almost no one was buying them (a common refrain from kids at the time was “I can make a better comic than this!”).  Add to that the fact that the superhero boom had become a bust, and it spelled the death knell to the “monster heroes.”

In 1972, when the horror trend started to take off in comics, Dell brought

Dracula

back.  The original three issues (#2,3,4) were reprinted as issues #6,7 and 8; no one knows why there was no #5.  However, the comic was even less successful the second time.  Thankfully, neither Frankenstein or Werewolf were given a second chance.

[prittyvenus]

The Medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 003-4 Terzo file the haunting

After getting the bishop’s name from Dewdrop, the cops began the investigation. Omega and Phil are both willing to help but Phil’s past life is beginning to unravel along with phantoms of the past. Can Sara help solve the crisis that’s plaguing him?

Sara heard a loud shriek that woke her up in the middle of the night. Then she saw the phantom ghost of Primo sitting on a chair next to her bed. She was afraid at first but then she calmed down when she realized who it was. "Grandpa?" She says as she gets closer to the phantom. Then he gave a warm smile to her as she traced his face with her hands.

Footsteps came to her door and loud banging came out. "Sara wake up! We have a ghost problem!"

"Hold that thought." She told him. "I’m coming!" She yelled at the door.

When Sara opened the door, a terrified Thomas was out of breath. "Sara, a ghost has the officers held hostage."

"That's funny, I thought you guys don't want me because, and I Quote 'The Demon of the Police Force'. So, why should I even help you?"

"Look, don't start shit," Thomas yelled. "Just help us out, okay!"

"You're not my superior officer," Sara told Thomas. "So, you can't say shit, and after that fiasco at the meeting, why should I help you?"

"You fucking bitch."

"Feelings mutual, ass hole." Sara shuts the door, and a very disappointed Primo stares at Sara. "What?"

He hands gestures to Sara. "Signorina, no. You don't disrespect your colleague like that."

"I'm not disrespecting him. I'm just giving a good dose of karma." Primo folded his arms and gave a stern look on his face. "Look grampa, I know that you want what is best for me, but you're not my dad, and I'm not going to apologize."

Then Detective Stevens started to yell. "Sara, we got an aggressive spirit on our hands. Can you negotiate with it?"

Primo continues to sternly look at Sara and starts to tap his foot. "Urrr… fine, I'll do it!" Sara opens the door. "But I'm still not going to apologize." Primo smiled and followed Sara. Sara went downstairs and yelled, "Alright where is it?" She found a group of seven officers shaking in a corner and a phantom Secondo in his papa attire staring down at them. "Really? You guys are the toughest men out there, and you can’t even handle one ghost." Secondo turned around and looked at Sara. "If I talk to him, you guys better give me an apology after this." Secondo began to analyze her. "Sorry, about that, my name is Sara, and…"

Secondo grabs her chin and pulls her closer to him. He sees the pentagram in her left eye and carefully analyzes it. "Questa è una vera maledizione? Come l'hai presa?"

"Excuse me? I don’t understand…"

Secondo interrupted Sara. "The curse in your left eye, how did you get it?"

"From a high-level demon. It’s a long story."

One of the female officers shouted from the right-side banister. "There’s a headless man in the bathtub!"

Sara told Secondo. "Hold that thought." Then she marched up the stairs and asked "Where is it?" The officer pointed her at the open door of the hallway. She looked inside and saw a headless man lying in the bathtub filled with blood and water. The officers were too scared to go inside. "Really? You guys never handled a crime scene before?" The officers are shocked "I swear you’re all a bunch of rookies!" she yelled in a harsh voice. "Get me the rubber gloves so I can handle this!" Sara got the gloves and puts them on, and then she takes pictures with her phone, then she goes to the rack and grabs a small towel, and then she goes to the drain. "I don’t feel anything suspicious,” She puts the towel around the drain and slowly releases the plug. "The water should come down and then we can check for evidence." Soon she spotted some black hair floating around the water. "I think I found the head." She grabbed the head by the hair, then the body grabbed Sara by the arm then pulled her in close to the tub. Sara punched the body in the stomach and it leaned towards the head. She pulled the body back and then grabbed the head and pulled it out of the water. All of the officers screamed and ran away. "What a bunch of rookies…" She says with embarrassment "Well, at least you’re out of the water, Terzo."

Terzo opened his eyes and said, "Grazie, amore mio." Then he winked and smiled at her.

Sara took a deep breath and said "Damn, I hate my job." Then Sergeant Jackson appeared at the door. "I think we need to retrain the officers on how to handle a crime scene," she said as she put his head back into the tub. "Close your eyes and hold still." She said as she got out her phone.

"Make sure you get my good side," Terzo said to her. Sara snapped some more pictures from different angles. Then she noticed that the body was out of place, from the previous photos.

The officers peeked into the bathroom and Sergeant George looked at the door. "We are going to have a meeting about this." He said in a stern voice. "Tomorrow morning in the war room. Sara, can you send me the pictures when you are done."

"Of course, sir." She said as she rearranges Terzo's body to make it look like it was in the first set of photos. Then she reshoots the photos and she puts away her phone. "Okay, thank you for your time, Terzo." She said as she puts Terzo's head on his body.

Terzo said "Grazie" Sara helped lifted his body out of the tub and then she heard footsteps from behind her.

"Please, allow us to take care of Master Terzo," Omega said as he helps Terzo to his feet and out of the bathtub. Phil rushed in with a bathrobe and silk pajama pants and started to dress Terzo in them.

Sara went downstairs and sees Secondo and Primo arguing in Italian. "Come potevo sapere che è tua nipote!" Secondo gave him the hand gesture. "Hai parlato a malapena di tua moglie anche dopo che ti ha lasciato!"

"Se n'è andata perché ha trovato la famiglia che sta crescendo nostro figlio e ha detto che non tornerà finché non sarà con lei." He points his finger at Secondo. "Non mi metti mai quel tono di voce. Non dimenticare che sono stato io a crescere te e Terzo dopo che papà ci ha abbandonati, Secondo."

"Is everything okay grampa?" Sara asked.

"No, piccolo mio, everything is fine." Primo looks at Sara. "What happened to your clothes, mio figlio?"

Sara looks at her shirt. "Oh, I was playing crime scene with Uncle Terzo." She shows the pictures on her phone.

"Perché hai messo uno straccio intorno allo scarico?" Secondo asked.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Sara asked, "I don't understand the language."

"What? You don’t speak Italian." Terzo asked as he was going downstairs. Secondo and Primo were shocked that he was still in flesh but was bleeding from his throat.

"Omega can you and Phil get the first aid kit for Uncle Terzo?" She asked. "We don’t want him making the house, to look like a crime scene."

Terzo looks confused. Then he looks at the small masked ghoul before he vanishes. "Wait, what?" Terzo looked at Sara.

"Why won't we sit down and have ourselves some coffee," Sara told the three men. "there's a lot to discuss."

Case file closed

Case file contents

[the-commissions-deadliest]

TUA OC - Lucinda "Lucy" Moore

Faceclaim: Kathryn Hahn

Name: Lucinda “Lucy” Moore

Age: 39 Years Old

Gender: Cis Woman (She/Her)

Sexuality: Homosexual, homoromantic

Occupation: Temps Commission Employee – Hired as an assassin for the Corrections Department. Doesn’t have a permanent partner for jobs, instead is often saddled with new employees to show them the ropes. Though she handles this with a sense of kindness and professionalism, she’s never been all too pleased about it. She does wish that her superiors would just assign her a proper teammate for jobs, especially since she’s been working for The Commission for over a decade.

Personality Traits:

Positive Traits: Cheerful, adventurous, charming, calm, protective, loyal,  

Neutral Traits: Sarcastic, competitive, flirty, eccentric

Negative Traits:  Impulsive, can be blunt, emotionally guarded (uses humour as a coping/defence mechanism), nosey, can be flippant at times, completely apathetic towards the targets of her job

Backstory:

Born to a family involved in organised crime, Lucinda had been surrounded by crime and violence from the minute she was born. With two older brothers, she often had to fight tooth and nail to be respected and taken seriously by her father who wanted another son. Though it was evident both of her parents favoured her brothers, it didn’t stop Lucinda from working hard to try and earn their approval. She went along with everything they’d ask of her (even when it meant seducing and murdering men twice her age). By the time she was 21 years old she'd been involved in a variety of brutal crimes, the sort of stuff she had quickly become desensitized to growing up. Despite her cheery and kind demeanour it was clear she was capable of doing awful things if she felt like she needed to.

When Lucinda was 25 years old her parents would do something to further fracture their almost non-existent relationship. They would plan for an arranged marriage between Lucinda and a man from their rival family in order to form an alliance and unite the two. Extremely unhappy with this plan Lucinda protested, but was shut down and dismissed at every turn. Then one day, while this planning was going on there was another bump in the road, an assassination attempt on her life (though she was able to take care of the intruder and take him down herself). It wasn’t all that surprising considering the enemies her family had made over the years, the enemies that she had made over the years.

Not long after the failed assassination attempt, Lucinda was approached by a well-dressed woman with platinum blonde hair who offered Lucinda a job at The Commission. Enticed by the woman’s words and displays of affection as well as being desperate to escape, Lucinda was quick to take her up on the offer. And so, on that day, Lucinda Moore vanished from her bedroom never to be seen by her family or colleagues again. She quickly settled into her role at The Commission, finding a sense of belonging and purpose there.

For years she worked without question though she would end up finding an old piece of paper that would raise questions about the circumstances surrounding her recruitment. A piece of paper with a date, a name, a company logo and three simple words printed in the centre: Terminate Lucinda Moore. Dated around the time that assassin tried to take her out in her own home. Before she had become their employee, she had been an intended victim. Unbeknownst to her, going through with the arranged marriage and uniting the two families would’ve altered the timeline, she had to be removed from the equation. But when the assassin failed and Lucinda’s skills were made apparent, the decision was made to recruit her instead.

She knew she should be angry that she wasn’t told the truth but she ultimately brushes it off (though this does lead Lucinda to confront the reality that the woman who recruited her almost certainly didn’t actually care about her the way it felt like she did). Regardless, working at The Commission was the most sense of belonging she had felt in a long time and so, she kept on working the same job for years, a smile on her face.