#also a crime against graphic design

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[rodimissliveblogs]

Want to start my BG3 liveblog the same way I’ve started my Fire Emblem ones with “what I know of the game in advance” but what I know is

- a ton about the various companions

- absolutely shitfuck about like, the overall plot

Like, there's mindflayers, and a weird new cult popping up (as opposed to the regular weird old cults you'd expect to find in Baldur's Gate) but I don't know how a cult ties to

the mindflayer that's catfishing me in my dreams, or how that ties into Gale's goddess wanting him to explode himself, but I think that does tie in somewhere. I know that Gale is the best character to play as for Any% speedruns of this game, at least.

But I can tell you that "fix him" and "make him way way way way worse" are Astarion's two endings, that Shadowheart has a religious crisis and dyes her hair, that Karlach really wants a hug, and that I am familiar with just enough of tabletop Faerun's lore that my jaw dropped the first time I saw Wyll's surname out in the wild.

Also there's bards giving out free cataract surgery, if you want it.

[arimiadev]

spooky indie visual novels you've never heard of for spooky season

since it's October I thought I'd put together a list of spooky indie visual novels (horror, Halloween, creepy, dark comedy, anything in the spirit of the season goes) that you've probably never heard of but can play right now on itchio!

model employee

Model Employee is a corporate horror visual novel. Just discharged from the hospital and massively in debt for their life-saving cybernetics, the player-character must adapt to the “extreme” work-life balance of a Tethys Team Member- but they have help. Penny, the artificial personality that controls all security, waste disposal, and employee surveillance in the facility, specializes in reinforcing an especially cutthroat variety  of workplace culture- and she’s taken an interest in you.  If you want to get ahead in your career, you gotta be willing to take some risks.

model employee is such a tightly structured visual novel for being made in just one month for a game jam, making full use of everything while surprising you at every corner. every part of this game was so well planned and thought out- dystopian corporate satire isn’t my cup of tea (we’re living it) but the way they present everything in this game makes it feel so much more intense.

beary the hatchet

It’s Halloween 199X, and you killed someone during your morning shift. Honestly it’s inconvenient. This job was imperfect, sure, but you got to wear a mask with no questions asked and the pay was livable. But now you’ll have to keep the body in the backrooms till your shift is done. Bummer. “You’re… the absolutely WICKED and AWESOME Bearwater Grizzly Killer, aren’t you?!” …and now enters the dreaded true crime fan.

beary the hatchet is such a uniquely lovely game to look at, even if the subject matter is grim. I love the color palette and tones in this, I love the 2.5D graphics, I love how expressive all of the designs are. it’s a game oozing with style.

WE KNOW THE DEVIL

Anyone can kill the devil; that’s why they always make teens the vampire slayers, the magical girls. But some kids can’t even get that right; and that’s why meangirl Neptune, tomboy Jupiter, and shy shy Venus have to endure one more week of summer camp and each other, singing boring songs about jesus, doing busywork for adults, and hoping god’s radio can’t hear them. Before they can leave the summer scouts, they’ve got to spend twelve hours in the loneliest cabin in the woods and wait for the devil to come and live through the night–or not. You know.

it’s a visceral experience, something that feels foreign and familiar at the same time. I love the direction for it, the sketchy monochrome sprites against the colored photos- parts when there aren’t any characters on screen feel that much more real, like you’re watching found footage because of how tense everything is.

disconnect

Late at night, a phone call from a friend keeps disconnecting from you… On and off, on and off, constantly… …What would you do if you realized your friend wasn’t who you thought they were? And how would you react when the truth was finally revealed? (“̷̢̑W̸̨̊o̸̫͊u̷̱͝ḽ̸͛d̴͉̐ ̵̚ͅy̵̜̽o̸̥͗u̷̮̎ ̷̜̏s̶̤̄t̸̥͐i̴̻̕l̸̰͝l̸͉̓ ̷͕́ȁ̸̩c̸̡̓t̵̜̊ ̵͓̈t̶̙̄h̶̦͂e̸̩͠ ̸̩̅s̶̘̏a̷̪͛m̵̮͒e̴͖͑ ̸̭́w̷̨̚á̴̱y̵̯̑?̶͎̌"̷͈̆) Find out what happened to our scaredy-cat protagonist, Indie－a famous horror storyteller on the H-T-M (Horror, Tales, and Mystery) forum. What would she do when she unintentionally uncovered a mystery hidden deep within her own home?

I love the style of disconnect and the unorthodox way of getting to the truth of the matter. I’m not normally one to play furry VNs, but the designs are adorable and I love the presentation of the game, it has a lot of animation in it. there’s also one moment not too far in on this screen that made me scream…

curse of the juniper tree

Curse of the Juniper tree is a tale of two siblings, a cursed tree and an isolated village. It is a short kinetic visual novel featuring 2d exploration. Walk around the snowy village and talk to its inhabitants! Story is loosely based off the fairytale called The Juniper Tree by the Brothers Grimm in Grimm’s Fairy Tales in 1812.

this is a lovely and short story about two siblings living in a frozen land together. it’s a very atmospheric story with so many beautiful blues and detailed character designs. the controls were a bit hard to figure out at times but it’s worth your time.

reaplaced

Grea Perrim is a reaper of souls, and it’s her duty to bring the deceased to the other side. But in the world of reapers, death isn’t any kind of equalizer. The value of a soul is directly tied to the peculiarity of its death. Grea’s supernatural senses bring her to a Halloween house party with three costumed guests. She soon finds the most valuable kind of soul: the victim of a locked-room murder. In order to reap the soul, Grea must unravel the identity of its killer and explain its death in full. Is this the work of a human? A witch? Or something else entirely…?

reaplaced is a fun little whodunnit set on Halloween about a grim reaper out on the hunt who finds herself in the middle of a murder mystery. it’s much more indepth than I was expecting and the soundtrack is wonderful—there’s a lot of small touches to it that make it great.

Silver Thread

An exorcist that doubts the existence of ghost might sound contradictory but to Alicia Wilkershire, this is the right way to get closer to the truth. Her latest job sounded like another run-of-the-mill case and she greeted her client with her usual pessimism but is it, really?

Silver Thread is a spooky and short RPGM game about a skeptical exorcist trying to help a guy with his problems. the style is lovely and if you also like this kind of style, the developer has several other RPGM games like this!

Elevator Hitch

Elevator Hitchis a short 2.5D surreal horror/escape room visual novel with point-and-click and puzzle elements following the story of two co-workers suddenly finding themselves stuck together in a "Perfectly Normal" 70s office elevator.  They must explore each liminal-looking floor and find a way to get off the elevator to their actual destinations.

like a few others on this list, Elevator Hitch was made in just a month for the Spooktober Visual Novel Jam and was my favorite game from the year it came out (2022). it's more of an adventure style game than pure visual novel, so expect puzzles and a lot of bad ends! this developer also has a lot of other similar style adventure visual novels.

The Case of the Serialized Killer

When a popular illustrator is found dead, disgraced demonologist Harold Ludicael is hired to summon her ghost. Ghosts are the one thing he can't summon, but with sharp insight, perhaps he can solve the mystery, and resurrect the most important thing: His career.

this visual novel is an absolute feast on the eyes as all of the art is done by traditionally painted watercolor artworks! the characters are all unique and the world feels very lived in. if you like murder mysteries then check it out.

Stillwater

"𝕊𝕖𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕖…" A woman arrives with a mysterious letter in hand addressed to her grandfather. Etched in crimson is a foreboding message, a warning—a promise made from a time forgotten. Private Investigator Hugo Laurent and his assistants must solve this bizarre case before an old family's curse befalls them all.

Stillwater is a lovely looking game - I love everything about the art direction for it. it's not overly scary but very atmospheric with several endings to find.

Who is the Red Queen?

Alice falls down the rabbit hole into a Wonderland not quite right. Meeting an eclectic collection of people, animals, and some things in between, she sets out on an adventure in this odd new place to find the missing Red Queen. Or, more specifically, to find the pieces of the dismembered queen whose body has been strewn across the land.

a familiar but new take on Alice in Wonderland, now with a lot more yuri. like a lot of the VNs I've recommended, this was originally made in just 1 month. this one in particular has a lot of dead ends, mention of gore & dismemberment, and other content warnings.

okay now that you've made it this far I'm going to promote my gay horror / Halloween visual novels

Asphodelium

Hazel is an ex-adventurer who's settled down with some of his previous guildmates after the adventure of a lifetime—taking down a doomsday cult that tried to end the world, but at the cost of killing their former guild leader who turned against them. Despite their adventure still haunting him months later, he's tried to move on. —That is until a man with the same face as their guild leader approaches him. This is a story about cults and killing and killing cults. And being in love.

Asphodelium is a melancholic dark boys love visual novel that I made solo in about 3 months. it's entirely in NVL mode (I love you NVL) and around 3 hours long and my personal favorite game I've made so far.

Dahlia

a vampire has snuck into your room while you were sleeping. the only question is - are you next on her menu? Dahlia is a very short sapphic visual novel made in under 36 hours for the Velox Formido game jam, a jam for shortform visual novels. survive being trapped with a lovely little vampire, or don't.

also NVL mode because I love NVL mode. this is a short and sweet vampire visual novel I made solo in a weekend for a game jam that has several different endings.

Witch You Want

With a rather sparkly magical paper, you find a job listing for a local witch needing an assistant with making potions before the town festival that weekend. You sign up, unsure exactly what to expect...... A pompous and questionably excellent witch runs a local apothecary in town but finds that if she wants to make enough potions before the festival that weekend to sell (and keep her ongoing potion shop afloat) she'll need some assistance. After a dubious help wanted ad, she gains you as an assistant. Will the two of you see through to the festival? Will you be able to make a single potion? Will this girlfailure capture your heart?!

this is my latest visual novel that released just a few days ago! I directed & programmed this short cutesy game for a game jam at our studio. it's pretty fluffy romcom with a potion minigame in it. please help our girlfailure make potions, she needs all the help she can get.

[malcolmschmitz]

@theoutcastrogue posted this along with a video of a scene from Scarface that had been edited in this way (I'm reposting this and not reblogging it because that video was full of flashing lights and those hurt me physically)-- obviously in sarcasm

But that got me thinking that I'd love to see this as a game design mechanic, specifically for a game in the style of Loved or Papers Please...

For those uninitiated into the Deep Flash Game Mysteries, Loved is an art game that's designed to put you into the shoes of a person in an abusive relationship. You've got a GLaDoS style narrator who gives you commands, and you can choose to follow those commands or not. (They also misgender you.)

As the game progresses, the narrator starts to give you commands that harm or kill your character. "Jump into the spike pit", kinda deal. Obeying or defying gives you different endings, neither of which quite feel good. (I won't spoil them here.)

...I can easily imagine a game where you're in charge of the Black And White Old Lady Boring Movie Channel in a newly authoritarian state, and your job is to put the circles on the movies. And at first, the guidelines seem pretty reasonable.

A gangster threatens an unarmed woman. Red Circle. The square-jawed hero comes to rescue her. Green Circle. The villain ties the hero to the train tracks. Red Circle. The heroine calls the police to save him. Green Circle.

But as the days go on, the guidelines become crueler, more arbitrary, and more fashy.

A father graphically beats his child. Green Circle. Heroic resistance fighters stand up against the Nazis. Red Circle. The police shoot a man for a crime he didn't commit. Green Circle. A child kills their abusive parent in self-defense. Red Circle.

It's clear what they want you to do. But you still have a choice. You can "make mistakes" - but not too many. You can quietly change public opinion by what you choose to portray as 'right' or 'wrong'.

Or not. You do, in fact, have a choice. But neither of those choices will end well for you.

[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 4

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 3.5k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter

The ride to the factory was unusually quiet, not that Silco has ever been the talkative kind. But not even a word, even for him, that’s not a good sign.

He has little doubt about the identity of the people responsible for the raid, and while he is happy to spare himself the investigative work, the fact that Piltover may be fully involved leaves him perplexed. Sevika is right: it’s been years since topside made such a bold move against the undercity. He is accustomed to the Council interfering with his operations through insidious means—voting in policies designed to stifle his trade or quietly destabilising the political landscape. But this is different, it’s an open aggression, on his territory. While Silco has never shied away from the idea of an open war between the two cities, he hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. That is the second time that he finds himself surprised this evening, and that is a problem. Things are moving too fast for his liking, his associates grow more incompetent and unreliable every day, and topside decides this is a good time to strike at the heart of his empire. His days are numbered, he knows it, and it doesn’t help to be surrounded by greedy snakes. 

Glass debris crack under his shoes as he walks amongst the rubble alongside Sevika. Carcasses of chem-guards are lying around, smashed to bits. From the look of it, the enforcers called to the scene went out of their way to render them permanently inoperable in the future, which makes Silco wonder. Those war machines were specifically designed to fight topside, they should not have been taken down so easily. And that’s the kicker, they hadn’t just been defeated, they’d been utterly crushed. Whatever was deployed against his prototypes tonight it was not standard weaponry, but something far more advanced, powered by a powerful technology. A technology like Hextech. The issue is, Piltover—and Jayce Talis specifically—had been clear on the fact that Hextech was not to be used for warfare. While Silco is always cautious about trusting Piltover’s assurances, this would constitute a direct violation of the current standing laws. The city is certainly not above committing state-sanctioned crimes, but it would have required an announcement—or at the very least an emergency Council vote— both of which Silco would undoubtedly have caught wind of. Something is off about this, and he has to find out what. Sooner rather than later. 

"That lady enforcer wasn’t kidding. They’re planning something up there." Sevika says as she follows him closely. She can see the unrest in his posture, how tense he is under that big coat of his.

"Find out everything you can about her. Her background, where she lives, who she talks to. And make sure she knows we’re watching."

"Do you think she knew about this?" Silco doesn’t respond for a time. Lying to his face would be a dangerous mistake on your part, and a death sentence. Part of him has long since learnt not to trust anyone, but there was something about the way you pleaded your case—your desperation, your distress—that felt genuine. Like someone backed into a corner, clinging to their last, fragile hope. Then again, his instincts are not reliable these days. 

Silco traces a gloved hand along the jagged edges of the Shimmer containers. The glass , which his engineers swore was practically indestructible, is also shattered to pieces. Drops of the purple liquid still leak from the wreckage, pooling at his feet. This mess is going to cost him. A lot. He counted about eight chem-guards on the ground, on his way in, and there’s probably more on the top floors, not to mention that all the workers of the factory were taken into custody, even the children. The more he thinks about it, the more he is convinced that this was no random attack. No, this is personal. 

"I don’t know yet." He says, and that fact visibly frustrates him. That was the convenient part of having Marcus at his service. At this time, Silco would have had him dragged to his office for a solid explanation— along with an apology, just for the fun of it— and the problem would have been sorted before tomorrow. Actually, Marcus probably would have prevented this from happening in the first place. Under his jurisdiction, enforcers stayed out of Silco’s business. That’s what he was paid for. And up until his death, he’d done a fairly good job of it. The few times he brought the cavalry, it was at Silco’s request, like after an attack from the Firelights. But now, Silco doesn’t have a trustworthy mole in the enforcer ranks anymore. And it’s not like you qualify as a replacement. Not yet anyway. Everyone has a price, but truthfully, money isn’t the issue. There can always be a highest bidder, and that’s not a risk Silco is willing to take. The reason the late Sheriff was reliable was because he had too much to lose by betraying him. The amount of dirt he had accumulated on Marcus was astronomical. He kept paying him purely out of business courtesy, but he really didn’t have to. Unfortunately, digging that dirt is a long and meticulous process, one that he doesn’t have time for at the moment. Nevertheless, the more he knows about you, the better, and whatever Sevika manages to find will benefit him one way or the other.

At the centre of the large room, Renni kneels at her son’s side, holding his bloodied face between trembling palms. Lost in her grief and fury, she whispers into his ear the promise of vengeance against those who murdered him. Finn stands nearby, flicking his lighter open and shut in a way that’s really starting to grate on Sevika’s nerves. His greenish, reptilian eyes track the scene, following the pair as they observe the damage. He looks positively unbothered and serene with his flashy coat over his shoulders, and the Slickjaws’ signature mask adorning the lower part of his face, all polished and golden. But in truth, the man’s confidence has taken a few blows recently. 

First there was this humiliation at the last assembly, where he managed to make a complete fool of himself in front of the other chem-barons. The image of Silco hovering above him, taunting him with a gas mask as he choked on the Grey is not going away any time soon. It makes him sick to his stomach. And now, there’s this embarrassing security breach, for which he is responsible for. Finn and his crew are the appointed attack dogs of the undercity—scare tactics, blackmail, extortion, ensuring safety and control in strategic places. You name it, that’s his area of expertise. And this mishap won’t go unnoticed. 

Renni calls out Silco, blames what occurred here on his carelessness, and demands answers regarding his plans to fix the situation. And then proceeds to throw a jab at Jinx. Silco takes a breather, he knows it’s the grief talking, but nonetheless he answers her reprimands with barely disguised contempt, and he doesn’t particularly care how insensitive it is. As he looks down towards the little boy, for briefest moment, he sees a vision of Jinx, her frail body laying on that damned bridge after the explosion, burnt and bruised. He thinks about how much he wanted to hold her then, cradle her in his arms like he has done so many times before. He should have ran to her then, never mind the pack of enforcers standing between them. It’s out of his hands now, and he loathes it. He throws one last look at the boy and takes his leave.

Your hands are trembling, too heavy, you can’t bring yourself to move them. The sound comes next, so loud it leaves nothing behind but silence. And then the fall. A body crumples, limp and lifeless, hitting the ground with a dull, sickening thud. The noise sinks into your bones, repeating over and over like it will never stop.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is that you’re having trouble breathing. But it’s not the dream, and the air doesn’t feel worse than usual. You place your palm against the front of your neck and curse. Dammit. Your chem-surge. You were supposed to get new Shimmer doses yesterday. Well, to be fair, your schedule has been slightly disrupted due to recent events, and it’s not like the market is ever closed. Might as well do it now, and then you can directly drop by your mom’s to give her her injection. You equip yourself with a solid pair of boots, essential when heading down to the sump levels, and tuck a decent amount of cash into a paper bag. 

Shimmer is not cheap, at least not in the way you buy it. Most of what’s sold in the lower levels is raw, unrefined, if you will, and incredibly potent. One injection is all it takes to turn a user into an addict. That’s why it’s the most popular product here, and also, it’s the cheapest kind of Shimmer available on the market. People down here don’t have the luxury of choice—it’s either that, or low-grade chemtech. Both options wreak irreparable damage on the body over time. 

The wealthier people of the Undercity—and there aren’t many of them—can afford balanced versions of those products. Much safer to consume, it’s basically what was promised to fissure folks from the beginning: a proper medicine. Not a drug, but something to help the undercity’s denizens against most respiratory diseases. Unfortunately, this variant was never widely commercialised, which made you realise that safe consumption of the product had never been the priority, it was always about the money. As a result, balanced Shimmer is available only for a select few. For a price. A price you can barely afford. Almost the entirety of your pay is spent on Shimmer, whatever is left goes to food. It’s not a great life, but the alternative was out of the question. You’d seen too many of your friends die because of that poison, saw them turn into beings closer to animals than humans. Not a path you would have chosen for yourself or your mother. 

Your throat burns as you get deeper down the lower levels, you haven’t been this careless in a while. In Piltover, you reckon you could manage without your chem-surge for a few hours. But here, well, you hope you won’t have to find out the hard way. Better get this done quickly. And there’s your seller, tall frame leaning against the wall, slim as a wisp. It’s a good thing the wind doesn’t reach these streets because the poor bastard would be toppled over. Alastair is not the type to sit idly behind a counter, waiting for a sale. He roams the alleys, striding on his long legs, always looking for his next client. Because that’s the issue down here: they die quickly, or simply disappear. His hollow eyes widen at the sight of you.

"Oh, if it isn’t my favourite customer," he drawls, straightening himself. “Come for your usual, love?” You roll your eyes but keep stepping closer.

"No, I’m just here to see you, handsome." You say as you lean in next to him and offer him an exaggerated smile. Suddenly very interested, he starts slicking his greasy hair back and licking his cracked lips. Oh, Janna…

"My vials, Alastair." You say in a much drier tone, crushing all his hopes. 

"Right." He mumbles, disappearing behind the fumes and into a building. 

Around you, empty vials of Shimmer lay on the ground. As far as you know, you’re the only client who buys the tampered variant from him. Typically, people would get it on the upper levels, in the Lanes and perhaps even the Alcove district. But it’s even more pricey there. What you have going on with Alastair is a good deal for both of you. He gets to make more than ten times his usual turnover whenever you buy from him, and you get the best product for the lowest price on the market. Admittedly it’s still outrageously high, but you don’t have a choice.

Further up the street, a man with rags for clothes is crawling on all fours, picking up every vial he can find. He inspects them thoroughly, searching for any residue. Occasionally, he sniffs and licks the inside to catch a forgotten drop, or anything remaining, really. Most of the skin around his mouth is eaten away, leaving what is left of his teeth permanently visible. His skin is so pale and thin it looks as though the bones could pierce through at any moment. Funny, how something can either save you, or kill you in the most horrific way—slowly, corrupting your nerves, your blood, substituting itself for your very life, and sucking it all out. That’s Shimmer for you. 

Alastair emerges with your goods in hand, with the face of someone who knows they’re gonna make a pretty buck today. He hands you the vials one by one.

"Much obliged." You thank him as you shove your new purchase into a bag that you close securely. Walking around with Shimmer in the lower Fissures is a dangerous thing to do, and you’re not about to let your savings go to waste out of carelessness. You give him the paper bag and wait patiently as he counts. It’s taking longer than usual, and when you look up at him you can tell that he isn’t satisfied. You wait for him to explain himself. He scratches his head.

"I’m afraid you’re short 500 cogs." About a quarter of what you just paid. You stare at him with a frown, anger and disbelief rising inside.

"Excuse me?" Alastair shrugs in a way that makes you want to slap the insolence out of him. 

"Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that the blockade has been hard on all of us. It’s just business, darling, I’m sure you understa—" In a flash, your hand shoots out and grips the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward until your faces are inches apart. Alastair yelps, his bony fingers clutching at yours.

“Tell me something, Alastair,” you say, your voice disturbingly calm but razor-sharp. "You wouldn’t want a bunch of enforcers poking around your business now, would you?" Alastair blinks rapidly, his earlier bravado crumbling as he shakes his head vigorously. 

“Of course not. Now, I paid what I owe, and I will be leaving with what I came for. Is that clear?” He nods rapidly, the fear in his eyes evident. You’re gonna need a bit more than that. You raise your voice just slightly to make sure the point gets across.

"Words, Alistair." He swallows with difficulty, and the confirmation comes out dry and painful.

"Y-yes." You hold him there a while longer for good measure before letting him go with a shove.

"Good man." You say, and he stumbles back against the wall, smoothing his shirt with trembling hands. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Without so much as a glance, you stride back the way you came from. In the back of your mind, you know this was probably not the right move. The last thing you want to be in the undercity is indebted, and you’ve made yourself just that. Alastair may not care, but his boss undoubtedly will. It’s too late now. Whatever problems arise from this, you will deal with it later. But for now, you need that Shimmer in your system. 

By the time you finally reach your mom’s house, you’re practically coughing your lungs out. You barge inside, bracing one hand against the wall as you kick off your boots unceremoniously, rushing straight to the bathroom. You take off your top and try to calm your breathing as much as possible. Better to have steady hands when manipulating the chem-surge.

Watching your reflection in the mirror to guide your movements, you unscrew the bolts on the glass panel covering your chest. You lift it up slightly to unplug the empty vial inside, throw it away before quickly replacing it with a fresh one.

"You alright in there?" Your mom asks from behind the door, an unusual hint of concern in her voice.

"I’ll just be a minute."

The vial clicks into place with a soft pop, and instantly, the purple liquid begins flowing through the tubes beneath the glass, like liquid amethyst—rich and luminous. You’ve always found it quite beautiful, the way it snakes its way through, almost hypnotic, rippling and twisting as if it were alive. Such a double-edged gift, Shimmer. Lethal if mishandled, but for you, it’s salvation. For all the bad the it’s done in the undercity the engineer behind this invention must have had life in mind when they concocted it. They must have—there’s no other way. What a waste. 

The effects are immediate, like a shot of adrenaline right through your heart. A long sigh escapes your lips as proper air finally fills your lungs. That was a much closer call than you intended, and you vow not to let it happen again. Now that you can think clearly, priorities shift in your brain—you need a drink. But first things first, you help your mom with her injection, grab something to eat from the kitchen counter, and you’re on your way again.

There’s a message waiting for you at your preferred scrap workshop. You retrieve it from the pneumatic tube and head towards Laurelle’s. You and her go way back. When her folks owned the place, your family used to visit frequently after working the mines. When Laurelle’s parents retired, they handed her the keys to the bar, and so she is now the proud owner of the Nook. It’s a very small and low key establishment, nothing like the Last Drop, which is why you like it so much. The moment you walk in, she spots you from behind the counter. 

"My my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes." She exclaims, pulling out a glass for you. "What can I get you?" 

"Pitfire Punch." You say proudly, and Laurels’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You usually go for soft drinks. 

"What are we celebrating?" She asks enthusiastically. You check the seal on the letter you just retrieved just to be sure. Yep, Council sigil. No doubt now.

"My promotion, I recon." You say, dangling the paper above your head.

"Ah! I know your mom must be delighted." Laurelle scoffs, sliding your drink across the table.

"Haven’t told her yet. Thanks."

"How about this, just leave the letter on the hall counter and say nothing. Just wait and see."

"I’ve done her enough harm as it is, I think." You say ironically, but as always, Laurelle comes out to slap you on the wrist.

"Hey, you’re doing the best you can, just like the rest of us. Working the mines wasn’t going to pay for your treatment, or hers. Or any other job down here, for that matter. People can say what they want, but I know where your heart is, girl, despite that uniform. You don’t have to apologise for shit."

You lift your glass in thanks and drink it swiftly. Laurelle has always been gracious about your life choices. She supported you when you started your training, offered you a home while you were shopping for your own, and she never fails to cheer you up when you’re in doubt. A true friend without whom you would certainly have given up long ago. You owe her your life, in more ways than one. 

"Who’s your date?" You tilt your head questioningly, and Laurelle discreetly points somewhere behind you. "That absolute unit of a woman hasn’t taken her eyes off you ever since she walked in." You shift on your stool slowly and curse under your breath. Sevika sits at a lonely table, taking a long drag off her cigarette, her eyes fixed on you. She doesn’t seem alarmed that you have spotted her; quite the contrary, in fact.  

"Want me to send her away?" Laurelle asks, looking about ready to literally kick her ass out through the front door. You quickly put a hand over hers.

"No I—she’s good." Laurelle gawks at you, shrugs, and goes back to drying her glasses and bottles. 

You wonder how long Sevika’s been tailing you, if she already knows where you live, if she followed you all the way down to the Fissures. Not that she wouldn’t have figured it all out eventually, but damn, Silco sure doesn’t waste any time. The fact that Laurelle was able to clock her so easily is no coincidence. Sevika’s not in plain sight, but she’s not exactly hiding either—a gentle reminder that you still have to honour your end of the bargain. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @nerds4life246 @policedeer @burgerwolf74

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 1

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

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: As spring time comes, the police station finds itself intensely focused on several cold murder cases linked to the gangs. Amidst this chaos, it's hard to find time for anything else except for grappling with the position in the team and the burning ambition to be accepted, but something lovely might just be awaiting right behind the corner. The complicated relationship with the Min gang continues to get even more muddled.

Chapter word count: 20.8k words

Warnings: discussion of crimes and murders, mentions of violence and gore (nothing too graphic, they're vaguely describing a murder scene), general anxiety? (our girl is NERVOUS in this one), Yoongi almost isn't in this chapter, start of reader x OC, gets suggestive at the end (it's not with Yoongi but he IS endgame, dw), also this chapter might be a bit slower and investigation and exposition heavy

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: in the end i decided to split this chapter into two parts, because i think it might be easier to read in two blocks as oppposed to a 40k words in a single chapter, also because this chapter took me such a long time to write (almost two months) maybe i'll implement it more often to not leave you without an update for too long, but chapters might not be able to come out as quickly as i originally hoped because they take a lot of time to make :(( hope you enjoy this one, the second part will be dropping soon after <3

Spring, first year in the force

I was leisurely scribbling on a parking ticket form, smiling at the curious city-goers and squinting in the spring sun. I had forgotten my sunglasses at the station, since I sprinted out the second I had gotten a text about Yoongi’s whereabouts, so now I was stuck half-blind.

From across the street a man in a café waved at me with a friendly smile and I waved back, satisfied for once. I had met Jake a week ago, when I spent the whole day in his cute little business, watching Jungkook’s car parked by Yoongi’s high-end restaurant. After an awkward conversation about who I was and what I was doing there, I introduced myself as an officer and asked about Yoongi. Jake had let it slip that he often saw that car parked there and I was able to beg him for a little favour. I would leave my number there and he would text me when Yoongi came.

You see, he couldn’t legally park there, but no one cared enough to stake it out and give him tickets. Well… No one but me. Was it petty and very inconsequential for him? Yes. Did I still run over anytime the text landed on my phone? Hell fucking yes.

I had no pride when it came to this, we have long since established that everything was allowed in this war of wit.

Gleefully I ripped the fine from the notepad and with dramatic care put it behind the wipers. Suddenly there was a loud groan behind me and when I turned, lo and behold, Jungkook was making his way towards me, his usually emotionless face coloured with annoyance and pinched into an unfriendly grimace. I gave him self-satisfied smile and patted the ticket.

“Seriously? Again?” he asked without any useless preamble and tore the ticket from the window to look at it closer. His eyes squinted aggressively at it, both against the sun and as he attempted to read my nearly undecipherable scrawl.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Jeon,” I answered with a shit-eating grin, “If you didn’t continuously park outside of designated areas, I wouldn’t be forced to ticket you so often.” Jungkook gave me a stare that would be enough to kill someone and my grin deepened.

“What I would like to know,” a gruff voice came from behind the young man, and instantly our attention turned to the newcomer, “is how do you always know when our Kookie here parks like a naughty boy? You wouldn’t plant another tracker on us, would you?” Yoongi smiled at me and lazily walked down the stairs from the entrance to the street. I shook off the surprise quickly and put on a faux sweet smile, but I could already feel the beginnings of annoyance bubble within me. Jungkook relaxed and a tiny smirk pulled at his lips, and it was my turn to send him a murderous glare. Little shit probably knew that even if he couldn’t annoy me, Yoongi knew perfectly how to push my buttons until I was boiling with rage.

The whole thing with the tracker has turned into a real pain in the ass for me. Yoongi refused to return it to me and sooner or later someone from the station would come looking for it (especially since I technically acquired it unlawfully cause I didn’t have a warrant, but the officer gave it to me in good faith). I borrowed it under false pretences, citing an official business as the reason and wrote my name onto a form. The tracker was the property of the station, and I would have to return it. But I didn’t have it. Yoongi would always say it’s “keeping the score even since I lost theirs”.  I couldn’t even track it after they disabled it, so I was stuck.

“Unfortunately, the only one I had is still in your possession,” I retorted, mood souring quickly, “It’s not like I’m you, who has access to unlimited amount of illegal bullshit.” Yoongi chuckled and moved slightly closer to me so he could gloat to my face.

“Shouldn’t have lost our one,” he retorted with a smirk and moved to get into the car. I watched him as he plucked the ticket from Jungkook’s hands, gently folded it and put it into his suit pocket with a little wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it in time.” The younger man was still watching me with slight irritation but didn’t say anything and opened the door for Yoongi.

I couldn’t help myself and squeezed in one last petty remark. “Technically, aren’t you the one who lost the tracker?” I asked him, channelling the most annoying energy towards the two men I could muster, “You are the one who was tracking it.”

Yoongi didn’t reply, only turned around to me over his shoulder, smirked and winked once again. Then he disappeared inside the car. Jungkook slammed the door shut and with one last unfriendly stare he got behind the wheel and drove off. I watched them go, a strange mixture of frustration and self-satisfaction boiling inside of me at the encounter.

After the whole tracker fiasco I felt the dynamic between us shift a little. I couldn’t fully pinpoint what it was, but something felt different in the way Yoongi regarded me. I could also see it in the way Jungkook seemed to dislike me more openly and Taehyung found more enjoyment from teasing all of us.

It was strange, the sudden candour exhibited by him. Whenever I would come along with another officer, Yoongi would behave differently, be snippier and more mysterious. But when I came alone, he would tease and smirk and spin his tales. He never really told me anything concrete, but I could see he enjoyed toying with me like that, dangling the information in front of me just barely out of reach. I didn’t know whether it was because I admitted I wouldn’t share the information right away or because I answered to his antics with full force, but he felt more open in front of me than other detectives, though nothing productive ever came from it anyway. Sometimes it felt like I was just an annoying younger sibling to him, and he dealt with me by provoking and teasing me.

I sighed, watching their car go, and then I swiftly crossed the street to my own car to return to the station. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, just ran out and ignored their curious glances, and now I would have to deal with that. Minjoon would definitely ask, worried whether I had some emergency. He would ask me if I was okay and if I wanted a cup of coffee from cafeteria while regarding me with his warm brown eyes, and the thought of it was already making me relax a little.

I hadn’t talked to anyone in the station about what I’d been doing around Yoongi, not even to Minjoon who seemed to take pity on me and whenever the man was involved, took me with them (or at least as much as he managed to convince Hwang who really didn’t like me). I didn’t dare to express myself too much in front of Park when he tagged along and for some reason Yoongi went along with my cold shoulder whenever other detectives were around as if we were having a secret affair, but I could always see the glint of amusement in his eyes which made me want to punch him. I had no idea why he indulged me like that, but it definitely wasn’t anything good. Really, I should have seen the fuckery coming from a mile away.

So imagine my surprise when only a few days after the meeting at the restaurant, Yoongi waltzed into our office in the station with Jungkook and Jimin in tow like they owned it. He ignored the curious glances and the outright stares and made his way straight towards my table with a shit-eating grin. Jungkook seemed to have been smirking to himself too, and that’s how I knew I was in deep shit. Jimin was watching us with seemingly impassive eyes, but I could see the curiousness in them, especially since this was our first official meeting. I was well acquainted with him of course, but we’ve yet to actually speak with each other.

From the corner of my eye I could see Minjoon’s head shooting up in alarm and alerting Park in his office of what was going on. I shot him a warning glance as he was already halfway out of his chair but soon my attention was snatched by Yoongi, who slapped a piece of paper on my table with a wry grin. I looked at it. It was a confirmation of paying his parking tickets.

“There you go, officer, I hope you’re happy,” he chirped, self-satisfied like a big, spoiled cat, and if I wasn’t currently in the station I might have kicked him. Jimin made himself comfortable leaning on the neighbouring desk and spearing me through with intense eyes while Jungkook stood ramrod straight behind Yoongi sneering at me. This must have been such a great revenge for him I almost wanted to flip him off.

I was just about to open my mouth to retort something no doubt very inappropriate when Minjoon made it over to my desk and protectively stood by my side. My mouth snapped shut and I gave Yoongi a glare instead, to which he smirked knowingly.

“All the tickets, they’ve been paid,” he reiterated again, pointer finger tapping on the paper on my table, “And Kookie promises to do better.” The said man scowled behind him but stayed silent.

“What?” Minjoon asked confusedly, eyes jumping between all of us, “What is this pertaining to exactly?” He was talking to Yoongi, but I felt that his question was just as much pointed at me. Park was shuffling right on the edge of my periphery, curiously watching the whole thing go down, so I schooled myself and reminded myself that this wasn’t Yoongi’s office, and I couldn’t just curse him out in front of the whole unit. The bastard might have even enjoyed that. I gritted my teeth and stood up.

“Thank you, Mr. Min, for sorting out your situation,” I told him with a polite smile so tense it was basically a grimace, “and I hope your driver learns from this.” At the jab the young man narrowed his eyes at me, lips pursed, but didn’t move a single inch and didn’t make a single sound. Jimin leaning on the table was quietly snickering into his hand, watching the man’s tense form.

Yoongi’s answering smile was just as falsely sweet and polite, but the smugness still hung about his aura as he gave me a shallow bow and turned to leave, the whole time ostentatiously ignoring anyone else in the room. The moment the door closed behind him, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, and everyone was staring at me. My palms grew clammy and I nervously shuffled, eyes falling at the confused detective still standing next to me who was eyeing me just as questioningly as the rest of the office.

Minjoon looked like he wanted to say something, but his gaze jumped to the receipt still laying on my table and he froze, as if he wasn’t done processing the situation. Before anyone could do anything, Park decided to break the silence.

“Lee, Jang, my office. Now,” he said sternly and without waiting for us stalked back into his office. We exchanged anxious glances, but wordlessly trailed behind him. I had half a mind to quickly circle back and grab the ticket receipt with me as if it was evidence.

Once inside, Park was sitting behind his table with a stern face, if I had to guess he was on a good way to pretty pissed, and we both stood in front of his desk with our heads hung low like two schoolmates getting scolded by the headmaster. My grip tightened around the paper until I crumpled it.

“So, what has just happened?” the older man asked, voice seemingly impassive but still chilling me to the bones. Minjoon sent me a look, encouraging me to speak so we both could get out of this.

“Uh… so…” I started, not knowing what or how to say, but in the end decided that just coming right out with something as close to the truth as possible was the best way, “I’ve been giving Yoo- I mean Mr. Min parking tickets these past two weeks. I remembered his license plate and I realised I pass his car sometimes when he’s by the Black swan. It’s not legal to park there, so I started writing him up anytime I pass by and he’s there.” Both men in the office watched me, Park still keeping his impassive expression, while Minjoon looked at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement. I flushed from embarrassment under their scrutiny, heart beating out of my chest at having to explain and lie.

“Okay,” said Park finally and relaxed, “I guess you took being annoying to heart.” Honestly it sounded both like a compliment and an insult, but as long as I wasn’t in serious trouble I didn’t really care. I swallowed my irritation at his words and instead looked at Minjoon, who was fighting a smile. Normally that would help me calm down and laugh at the situation too, but at that moment I was so nervous and panicked I barely had the mind to acknowledge it.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked our superior, some frustration bleeding into my voice, but Park was already a hundred miles away and barely paid it any mind. “No, you can write parking tickets as much as you want, but you need to let me know if you’re getting into contact with the suspects, you understand?” his voice was gruff, but it was obvious he was no longer invested into this conversation. I nodded fiercely, focusing on keeping my face as guiltless as possible. Swallowing my pride, I bowed to him, apologised and thanked him for lenience, before I walked out of the office back in the direction of my own table and the office door.

Minjoon caught up to me, the amusement finally free to show on his face and now he was snickering lightly. I threw a nervous smile over my shoulder and walked straight out of the office aiming for hiding out in cafeteria for a moment. He followed, thoroughly enjoying the visual of Yoongi getting tickets now that he knew what it was about.

I sent him a glare and he put his hands up, but in the end burst out laughing. “It’s pretty cool,” he got out between giggles, “I’m not saying anything.” I relaxed a little and let myself go with the flow, slowly easing into laughing too and smacking his shoulder in joking reprimand.

“Actually, it explains so much,” Minjoon said finally when we got to the front of the coffee line and held our cups securely in our hands. “What do you mean?” I gave him a confused glance, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, he just always smiles at you in a really weird way,” Minjoon said unthinkingly, obviously not finding it that strange, but I froze in my tracks watching him like a deer in the headlights, “You’ve been doing it for a while, right? I always thought he was just being a creep, but I guess he was thinking about all the tickets.” The detective snickered lightly, amused by this whole situation. I forced my muscles to relax and also gave a clipped nervous laugh, hopefully playing it off completely, even though I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I wondered just how much other people also realised that Yoongi was acting strange. If anyone else saw the teasing glint to his eyes and the curl of his lips that felt like he was sending secretive smirks aimed just at me, reminding me of our interactions that would lend me in serious trouble had anyone else found out.

Minjoon excitedly babbled some more, telling me about his encounter with one of the lower tier drug dealers and how he tried to escape from them through a window and got stuck, he was laughing through the whole story and I somehow managed to give him the appropriate reactions at the right times even though my mind was stuck on the dangerous man and how to deal with this mess for the rest of the afternoon.

The next day I angrily stomped my way through the doors of Yoongi’s office building. The lady sitting at the reception looked up, totally uninterested in me as I’ve been showing up here quite often, and then promptly looked back down to her desk, not even attempting to stop me. I stormed past her and went straight for the elevators and rode all the way up.

I needed to talk to Yoongi, now. If he thought this was going to stop me or deter me, or that it would be a warning for me and I would chill out, he would be sorely disappointed. I was angrier with myself than him though. We weren’t friends, nobody promised anyone anything. I operated on the belief that because he kept his mouth shut until now, he would continue to, but of course once I started getting too pesky, he would show me just how much I depended on his silence.

It was completely natural, and I couldn’t even blame him for it. I only blamed myself for getting fooled into the notion that he wouldn’t just because he waited this long to actually do anything.

Once the elevator door opened, I saw the always empty reception desk at the end of the hallway. It was quiet there, not even a shadow moved, and a sudden nervousness choked me. I wrung my hands and stepped around for a moment, but well. No time like the present. I took a deep breath and barrelled through the door.

It swung open wildly, hitting the wall with a dull thump. I strolled in with faux confidence and promptly realised – the room was empty. Usually Yoongi was sat behind his massive desk from dark wood or lounged about the sofa, but now looking around I couldn’t see any trace of his presence. There was complete silence, the door to the bathroom that was usually masked well into the wall now sat open and nor his coat nor his suit jacket was present.

My heart beat lighting fast with anxiousness, but my mind ran wild with possibilities. I looked around again, this time to make sure there wasn’t anyone around, I even checked the hallway again, but it was truly empty. Quickly I closed the door and hurried to his desk. The top was fully cluttered with documents to a point I could barely see the ornamented wood beneath, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in that, I was fully focused on a single thing – the fucking tracker.

There was a chance he was keeping it at home, but I found it more probable it was here, in this desk, with the worst case scenario being that Jungkook had it somewhere. Wildly I rummaged through papers, not caring about making a mess at all. There was a camera in the corner, and I knew it could see me as clear as day, and it was more about making a statement than trying to hide anything. I was getting swayed by my impulsivity, I knew that, but a chance like this wouldn’t present itself to me again. This was the last thing Yoongi would expect from me and I had to keep him on his toes somehow. I chuckled at that and kneeled down.

Moving on to the drawers, I found two of them locked. My interest was sufficiently peaked by that. No reason to lock them, if they don’t hold something you don’t want taken, right? I smirked, making a point to look straight at the camera, before pulling a bobby pin from my hair and quickly getting to work.

I didn’t like to think about my childhood very much. I didn’t have much growing up in an orphanage in one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Seoul, and what I did have I had to fight for. I wasn’t proud of what I did when I was growing up, wasn’t proud of the people I was hanging around and the things I got myself into before I was scouted for the police academy, but even now I had to admit it left me with some questionable yet useful skills.

Like how to pick locks.

I swirled the pin around for a few moments, tentatively pushing it around and tapping at the metal machinery, hoping I didn’t get out of practice, when I heard a click and the lock gave way. I quickly went through the first one and it didn’t contain much, mostly more documentation and some very fancy pens and a diary.

My hand stilled on it for a second and I was tempted to peek, but I couldn’t. It felt too wrong and I couldn’t betray myself like that. I had no idea what would be contained within his diary, but it felt too much like a complete violation of privacy. Looking for the tracker could still be all a part of one big running joke, but actually going through his things didn’t sit right with me, especially since anything I got this way would be totally inadmissible in court and land me in more trouble than it was worth. Right, it could give me more information about him and push me in the right direction, but at the cost of not being able to look at myself in the mirror. With one last look I slammed the drawer shut and moved on to the other one, swallowing down the shame about my very questionable morals.

No time to dwell on it now, I would get Yoongi fair and square in the end, I just had to try a little harder.

Opening the other drawer revealed that the content was much more interesting. Upon moving some papers out of the way, I quickly found not only the tracker I had put on Yoongi, but also the tracker he had put on me. I narrowed my eyes at the camera and fished out both of the devices to show them off, waving them both around with a less than impressed expression. I pocketed them and flipped of the camera, quickly moving to shut the drawers, when something caught my attention.

Black steel glinted from underneath the mess in the second drawer and when I lifted it off, I gasped lightly. A gun was lying at the bottom, a little black handgun just hanging out inside his desk. Quickly I examined it, noting it was the same model police officers carried, DP51. It was accessible to get with the proper license and I knew Yoongi had it, he had gotten it legally some time ago and the model checked out, but it still shocked me to just see it lying about like that. But as long as it was legal, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. If I was petty enough, I’d check the serial number and make sure it was truly the one he had registered, but I still really wouldn’t be able to do much as I wasn’t even supposed to find it and had just committed a crime by breaking into his desk, so I’d rather not provoke my luck too much.

Just as swiftly as I threw things out I put everything back in there and shut it, not bothering to lock them again. Giving the camera one last victorious smile I rushed out, slamming the door behind me.

I didn’t even know if the universe was on my side or against me when I quite literally bumped straight into Yoongi on the sidewalk by the main entrance. He was just rounding a corner from the side alley when I crashed into him, almost falling on my ass, and I totally would have eaten dirt right out in the daylight if the man in question didn’t immediately shoot out his arms to catch me.

“Woah!” Yoongi exclaimed in surprise, hands grabbing onto my arms and pulling me back onto my feet trying to stabilise me a little. When he realised who I was, he smirked like he’s just come across his favourite idiot (he did). Jungkook ran over to us, alarmed and clearly worried for his boss’ safety. He would have ripped me away from Yoongi if the man himself didn’t stop him with a lazy little wave of his hand, no doubt curious which gems he’d get out of me now.

Once I had my feet under me again, I suddenly found that the irritation that always seemed to be present when I dealt with Yoongi was nowhere to be found. Instead I felt like the little shit-stirer today. I seemed to have shocked them both when I grinned widely, in that manner that you know I had just done something that would piss them off.

Yoongi regarded me suspiciously, probably putting two and two together and realising I had been loitering around the office building.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, officer?” he asked, shock robbing him of his usual poise. My smirk deepened and I gently grabbed his wrists to remove his hands from my arms. Jungkook watched me with a stare so intense it almost burned a hole in me, but I let him go immediately, his arms hanging in the air between us for a split second before Yoongi gathered himself and stepped back leisurely.

He tried to look cool and collected, but his eyes were sharp and calculated why I would be in such a good mood, clearly not used to me being so carefree in his presence. I had one of those moments when I was snapped out of my usual approach to Yoongi, maybe because only a single glance at him didn’t enrage me beyond human capabilities like usual, and I suddenly clocked in the put together state of him.

His hair was put into a half bun, but some soft strands were hanging around and framing his face, curling up into tiny waves, while the rest fell to his shoulders in a wavy mess. He was all in black again, black t-shirt and dress pants and a longer jacket with a white hem that fell to his mid-thighs. It wasn’t often that I actively realised that he was a fairly attractive man with a good sense of fashion, but when I did, it never failed to smack me right in my face. But tonight I was ecstatic about managing to swindle him like this and getting the tracker back, so I let myself tease him a little more than I usually would.

Before they could say anything, I sidestepped him and patted his shoulder. “Thanks for that,” I chirped out, shit-eating grin still firmly set on my face, “Looking good today, Mr. Bossman, but unfortunately I have to run now.” With that I set out back to my car so that I could hurry back to the station.

When I was pulling out of the parking spot, I could still see Yoongi and Jungkook standing on the corner, confusedly watching me. I couldn’t help myself and waved at them from the car as I was passing them. I wished I could have seen Yoongi’s face when he watched back that security tape, but unfortunately the universe wouldn’t allow me this much amusement.

Back at the station I immediately ran for the IT department and after some grovelling and apologizing for taking this long to return it, I was able to finally tie this loose end, hoping no one would ever request to review my involvement with this unit.

Walking out of there, I felt as if a whole mountain fell off of my heart and it put a pep in my step. For the rest of my shift I let the mental image of Yoongi losing his shit over a security recording carry me and it never failed to make me cackle even hours later.

When a week later I got summoned into Park’s office again, suffice to say I was shitting bricks. This could either be a continuation of last week, a more detailed interview about how much was I exactly involved with Yoongi, or he got wind of me returning the tracker. Neither of these were good – they would either land me in trouble or force me to lie, which I wasn’t exactly fond of.

I was nervously shuffling from foot to foot by the door for a long few moments, but just as I was about to knock and enter, I was suddenly joined by Minjoon and two people I’ve never met before – a man and a woman that looked a few years older than me. They were both dressed rather nicely and gave me small but friendly smiles when our eyes met. We exchanged hellos and pleasantries while I eyed the two of them curiously. Minjoon smiled at me in a way I could call encouraging and knocked, never initiating any introduction between us and before I could say anything, we were instructed by a gruff voice to come in, so I let it go for the moment.

Officer Hwang was already waiting inside, the older man was sitting on one of the chairs and chatting amicably with Park, whose face immediately shut off the moment strangers came in. The duo went over to the couch and sat down, looking expectantly towards Park to start speaking. We shuffled around a little, arranging chairs and getting comfortable, there was a hum of nervous small talk and then silence settled over the room as everybody sat down and looked towards the senior detective.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “We have several new leads, ones that I will later share with the whole team, but you should be briefed first as it directly involves the three of you.” Park awkwardly gestured towards us sitting on the other side of his desk uncomfortably squirming in our seats.

I began winding down slightly. It seemed that none of my fears were realised, and this meeting was about something completely different and none of my transgressions. I released a long breath, the tension leaving my body and I decompressed into the little chair. Minjoon looked over and must have caught my nervousness, so he sent me a little smile, probably thinking I just wasn’t used to being called to the office yet. I shakily returned it and tuned my attention back to the older detective.

“As you surely remember, about a month ago there was a call from a passerby about shots around the dock area down in west south Seoul. Upon arrival, a bloody scene was found with several bodies that were later identified to be small fish drug dealers,” Park began explaining the situation to us, “It was on the Kim family turf, so no connection to Mins was made. They seemingly are on cordial terms, so we didn’t have a reason to assume Min had anything to with it. But a few days ago, our Kim informant gave us the information that there are tensions rising between the two gangs and a month ago there was an altercation on the Kim turf that apparently happened by the hands of Min’s dogs. That made us circle back to this case and we think it might be what he was talking about.”

I remembered the instance very well, I realised with embarrassment flushing my face. It was the evening Minjoon refused to take me with him due to the gruesome scene and in anger I went to beg to Yoongi’s office for any kind of information, only to end up with a tracker on my phone. Stupid naïve old me, that has never dealt with a man of Yoongi’s calibre before. I shook my head lightly at the memory. The tracker situation would just not leave me alone.

There was silence in the room, less because people were shocked and more of an unsureness of whether he was expecting us to add something or he was content to carry on by himself. In the end, Hwang broke the tense atmosphere.

“They must have been in a rush to leave behind such a mess,” he drily stated, “not like the boys at all.” There were some hums of agreement from around the room and then more quietness. Finally, Park decided to get to the point of this, clapping his hands curtly to get all of our attention again and I flinched in my chair, having been looking at the two strangers sitting on the sofa whisper something to each other. When I turned to him, he was staring at me with his eyebrow raised before he continued.

“We have decided to collaborate on this investigation with the violent crimes unit,” Park briefly gestured to the two strangers sitting on the sofa, to which they gave us an awkward wave, “Jang and Hwang are the Min team in our unit, so you will be in charge of it on our end. I notified the boys who keep an eye on the Kims to be of assistance to you if you need it. Newbie, you will be working on this with them as an assistant.” I jerked, this time from surprise, looking all wide eyed at the detective before he got tired of my gradually happier and happier face and turned back to others. I could barely supress the joy that coursed through my veins at this, basically vibrating in my seat.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Minjoon giving me a cheeky smile, insinuating he was already aware of the situation, and I was likely the only that was kept in the dark about it. Excitement thrummed through me and I could barely stop myself from bouncing on the chair. There seemed to be a permanent smile etched into my features, and while Park kept giving out some more technical advice and instructions, I didn’t even listen properly through the sea of possibilities already flashing through my mind.

Within 5 minutes Park was pushing us all out of his office and we found ourselves awkwardly standing outside and looking at each other.

“Well, I guess I ought to introduce myself,” I broke the ice, suddenly emboldened by this turn of events, all sunshine and smiles as I offered my hand to them once again, “I am officer Lee Y/N, I joined the force last autumn.”

The man, who towered over me with his wide shoulders and muscled form, shook my hand first with a charismatic smile and nodded at me. “Name’s Choi Seungcheol, but you can call me Coups. I’ve been in the force for some time already.” His face looked very kindly, but there was a spark of a boyish cheekiness in his features. The lady by his side snickered at that and I couldn’t help myself and giggled along.

She stepped closer to me and pushed away Seungcheol so she could shake my hand as well. He jokingly pouted and gave her a side-eye, but it was obvious they were very close as both partners and friends. It made me smile at the display, hoping that one day when I got my own partner, we would be just as tight. My eyes took her form in, her dark wavy hair and confident face, she was a true mixture of beauty and strength.

“I’m Sunmi,” her voice brought me back and I stopped gawking at her with flushed cheeks, “I’m his senior, so don’t even ask how many years I’ve been in the force.” To this Seungcheol laughed meanly and lightly bumped her shoulder with his fist.

“We’ve been dealing with this case mostly on our own, but we’re excited about getting the help of your unit,” she added and gave us all a wide grin, “I’m sure we can all give each other useful information.” Seungcheol behind her nodded and then reached out to pat Minjoon’s shoulder.

“I’ll just beg you for like 20 minutes so I can run to the buffet and buy myself at least a sandwich or something, cause I’m about to die,” he joked good-naturedly with us and before anyone could say anything, already started walking back with a cheeky grin. Sunmi rolled her eyes fondly and then slowly turned to follow him. Minjoon just waved them off with a smile and then turned to us.

Me and Hwang were watching each other awkwardly. He regarded me with obvious mistrust and contempt, but I’d already gotten used to that in this unit, so I only returned it with a smile so fake I was surprised he wasn’t insulted by it.

“Okay you two, play nice,” Minjoon inserted himself into the situation and grabbed both of our shoulders, “there’s also no need for formalities now, we’ll all be working closely together. Y/N, please from now on call him Jiho, Jiho call her Y/N.” The man scowled at me but in the end buckled under the pressure of Minjoon’s stare and nodded my way in acknowledgement.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff,” he then grumbled and moved to his table moodily. I scowled at his back, returning his favour in terms of warm welcomes, but Minjoon subtly shook his head at me so I schooled my expression back into careful neutrality. Inside I was pissed though. It’s not like I was stepping on any toes here, he just didn’t like me for the sake of not liking me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Minjoon walking towards the conference room with the infamous Min gang picture wall, so I followed after him. My happy mood took a small hit after such a reception from my colleague, but at least the violent crimes unit seemed really nice so not all was lost.

In the shoddy privacy the glass walls of the room offered I sat down and sulked, heart sinking as I realised that Minjoon might be the only person on my side here. Park was annoyed by me and Hwang obviously didn’t like me at all, and when it came to it, Seungcheol and Sunmi weren’t part of this unit and couldn’t really affect my standing among my own colleagues.

“Don’t pout now,” Minjoon’s teasing remark brought my attention back to him and when I took in his amused face, I had to fight off another scowl, “He’ll come around to you. He’s just annoyed a newbie is allowed to work with us so quickly.” That didn’t soothe my anger at all, but I pretended to smile towards the only kind man in this unit, not wanting to dig around in this open wound anymore.

“You shouldn’t take it personally,” the man continued obliviously, flipping his dark brown floppy hair out of his eyes as he fixed something on the wall, “you know, he’s Park’s understudy and as such he’s not only very old school, but he’s also been part of this unit for a long time without many promotions. Stuck in the same place for this amount of time, he isn’t the exactly the nicest to fast moving rookies. I had my problems with him as well, especially since I took the leading position in our team after only a few months here.” He smiled at me soothingly, throwing a glance at me over his shoulder with his kind eyes and it finally made me calm down a little.

“Sorry, I’m used to everyone hating me specifically that it never occurred to me he could be a dick to everybody,” I half joked half grumbled and Minjoon laughed at my words, pulling a genuine smile from me at the sound. For a few seconds I wished people here were a little more like him, or that I was assigned to him when I got here, but drowning in what ifs was never a good way to spend time, so I shut that self-pity down quickly.

Instead I focused on the wall and the few changes that have been made to it sometime this week. Truth be told, I was so caught up in feuding with the gang in real life, I kind of forgot to keep up with the information hanging here on the wall, so I took a few moments to take everything in.

Under the old picture of Yoongi that was the primary point of the wall someone taped a new picture of him, most probably very recent one and from some kind of an official black-tie event. He was wearing a sleek suit with his hair styled and slicked back from his face, champagne glass in hand as he kept a light conversation with someone out of the shot.

“That’s from the fundraiser for a new children ward in the Seoul St. Mary’s Hospital,” Minjoon supplied when he saw me looking at the pic, “As one of the richest men in Korea he gets around these events a lot, it’s kind of funny.” I scoffed playfully at his words.

“All you have to do is own a few hotels,” I sing-songed jokingly, eyes already moving across the wall for any new details. There weren’t many, most just pertained to Tae, Jimin and Jungkook going about their days and doing business. Yoongi’s schedule was mostly known to us and he rarely strayed into unknown spaces, Namjoon mostly just sat in his office and Hoseok was as elusive as ever. I had an inkling I probably saw more of him in the past few weeks than my colleagues did in months, and even then he just made sure everything was going okay around the docks. And as for Jin, he was an open book with his practice and reputation, so there weren’t exactly any skeletons to dig for in his closet.

Once again I realised that without a proper offensive we would never get close enough to Yoongi to actually prosecute any of his gang members, and although all the evidence I gathered could be easily dismissed just by Yoongi reporting me and asking for a restraining order, I still got closer than Park who always bumped into Namjoon’s carefully constructed walls of legal bullshit.

We all knew illegal shit happened behind closed doors, we all knew how he got his stuff here and what he sold in his clubs and how he dealt with his “employees”, but on the outside everything either seemed perfectly legal without any loopholes to sneak your way in or there just wasn’t enough conclusive evidence, letting Yoongi perfectly skirt the grey area and do his crimes in peace. At this point if we didn’t get a photo of him shooting someone point blank, we’d never be able to get him, cause he had the uncanny ability to weasel his way out of everything.

He truly was someone that’s been doing crime before I even learnt to tie my own shoes and it showed.

And while my plan with Hoseok crashed and burned, I wasn’t giving up. I wouldn’t give up. I just needed time to recoup and find a new way in. Problem was, Yoongi was way too aware of me now and yes, I did learn from my mistakes and always managed to attack from a different angle, but I was still only a single person, and it was too easy for them to toy with me. I was too vulnerable against the seven of them and somehow they always got ahead of me, made me into their entertainment and played games with me until I caught up. I had to change my tactics, again.

And this was my opportunity to do so. Minimise contact and focus on the investigation and skirt around them for as long as possible. The less they saw of me now, the better. At this point, that was the only thing they wouldn’t expect me to do. Here or there drop in and keep it together, remain professional. Or just turn it around completely and play by their rules to subvert their expectations. I could do this. I had to, really. There was no other choice against Yoongi’s wit and his men.

Next to me Minjoon was humming as he put up some additional information to the wall, the basic stuff we all already knew but for people from a different unit it could be useful to keep it up so they oriented in the case better. Slowly, the grey of the coating couldn’t even be seen anymore, all covered up in pictures of people and bodies and crimes. It was strangely calming, having it all in front of me like that, seeing clearly the web of depravity and corruption. It was easier to keep the goal in mind and not get lost in all the dead ends.

The sudden sound of the door opening tore me from my musings and I jerked in shock, fight or flight almost kicking in since I was so lost in my own head for a moment, but I relaxed once I realised it was the violent crime guys with Hwang sullenly trailing in behind them. I fought to keep the eye rolls to myself and instead gave a warm smile to Seungcheol and Sunmi, gesturing for them to make themselves comfortable around the table. Minjoon was still messing around with some of the files and boxes and Hwang walked over to him, the two of them whispering to each other about something.

Sunmi started piling files onto the table, so I kept my attention there, sitting down across from them and slowly going through them. There were a few cases, but most of them pertained to the killing from a month ago. There was a lot of witness statements, some vague comments about the safety of the area and a lot of avoiding answers when it came to the topic of the Kim family. I sifted through them until I got to the pictures and stilled.

I’d never seen the crime scene before. I have seen pictures of crime scenes, even pictures of bodies and autopsies, but the fact that I knew the killer, talked with him and joked with him, it messed me up more than I was anticipating it would. It was the first crime scene I saw that was so viscerally real and close to me, to my own case. It felt like my heart was beating out of my throat and I could physically feel my hands getting sweaty.

“Hey, you okay?” I heard a kind deep voice, and two hands suddenly entered my peripheral. I quickly tore my eyes away from the pictures of bloody bodies strewn across an industrial complex, of pools of thick red liquid covering most of the floor and walls splashed with it. I tried not to think about the obvious signs of a scuffle, of the evidence of complete overpowering by power unseen and totally unexpected. I tried not to think about how much force do you need to exert while killing someone to get their blood all over the ceiling.

My eyes met the worried ones of Seungcheol and I nodded shakily. His question got the attention of most of the room, and I found myself at the centre of attention with several concerned gazes trained onto me and Hwang watching me condescendingly from the corner. That quickly amplified my unease and I found myself stuttering out another affirmative answer almost incoherently.

“You said you were a newbie, right?” Sunmi asked, but her voice and face were soft with no trace of mocking I was afraid I’d see there, “Is this your first crime scene?” With shame written all over my face I nodded again and pushed the file with the pictures away, trying hard not to catch anybody’s eyes.

Seungcheol laughed softly and I flinched, humiliation filling me from head to toe, until he said: “You’re still holding up pretty well, when I saw my first crime scene I threw up.” Sunmi laughed at that, laughed at him, and yet it wasn’t insulting and he returned her smiles completely unperturbed.

“Oh god, I remember that,” she said breathlessly, “It was absolutely hilarious. He was green the whole day and barely uttered a word.” Seungcheol smirked at her and I could see in Sunmi’s eyes she realised he was about to say something about her past the way they narrowed and her smile froze.

“Actually Captain later told me that you threw up too and then cried during lunch, so we’re pretty even,” he said smugly and there was silence for a few seconds before they both started giggling at each other. I couldn’t help myself and a few giggles escaped me too at their antics.

“Honestly, I think the only reason I am not throwing up right now is because it’s only pictures,” I managed to mutter out my own hesitant comment, topping it off with a shaky smile hoping to show my gratitude to them for trying so hard to distract me from it. They both grinned back, nodding in encouragement, and I leaned back into my chair a little, stomach still rolling around but now considerably calmer than before.

Minjoon finally abandoned the wall and sat down next to me, his hand gently patting my shoulder before he kindly said: “Don’t worry, everybody has a reaction when they see something like that for the first time. I threw up too the first time I was taken to a crime scene.”

I started squirming under all their attention and just simply nodded to get them back to focusing on anything else, especially since Hwang’s eyes coldly regarded me from the wall watching me like I was totally pathetic.

In my mind, I was suddenly brought back to that day, how angry I was with Minjoon for underestimating me and telling me I can’t come with him. Back then I thought he was just being overprotective because I’m a woman, that he sees me as weaker like all the rest and immediately jumped into going to Yoongi instead and embarrassing myself there, but now having seen these photos, I was suddenly relieved I didn’t go. I was stupid, I had no idea what I was talking about all those weeks ago. I looked to him and gave him a thankful smile, even if he had no idea what I was thinking about, and he returned it tenfold. That helped me calm down even more, but still there was an undeniable tenseness to my shoulders and a slight tremble in my hands.

In some way I was also glad for not having seen the scene back then, because I don’t think I would be able to face Yoongi the next day without throwing up again.

The conversation around me shifted already to the other files and I was only brought back to what was happening around me once Minjoon touched my arm in concern, watching me the whole time I was dissociating. I gave him a half-hearted smile and tuned back in.

“It’s not official, of course,” Sunmi was just saying, finger tapping on one of the unfamiliar files, “But we think it’s highly likely. There’s some similarities, even though it’s just speculation and no formal ties to any of the gangs have been made, but it’s all victims that ran through these circles and their demises were very sudden and very violent. It’s worth it to go through it with you experts and see.” So they brought extra files that could also be associated with the Min gang. Curiously I pushed one file open and gave it a quick glance over. It seemed to be some old rich guy that was murdered on the street few months back and it was at first classified as mugging.

“Have these happened in or around places known to be associated with these gangs?” I found my voice finally and jumped back into professional headspace, trying to shake off the residual unsettlement. Seungcheol’s eyes jumped to me suddenly, presumably getting surprised by me inserting myself back into the conversation.

“Yeah, they’re all mostly directly from or from around the Min or Kim turf,” he said and gave me a supportive smile. I returned it, still somewhat awkward with them as strangers, but quickly getting drawn into their warm presence and energy.

Minjoon next to me hummed, watching the table quickly disappear under a load of papers and photos, seemingly deep in thought. Then he looked at me and smiled. It was the ‘I’m gonna have you do something you’ll hate’ kind of smile and I already felt my enthusiasm crashing through the floor all the way to hell.

“I think it’d be beneficial to go through the files and see if any of the names seem familiar to us or pop in our database. If we find a concrete link to them, we can count them in,” he said slowly, like he was pitching an idea for a new breakfast commercial trying to win over tough investors, and his eyes slid over to me again, “Y/N, please start with that and keep me updated on your progress.”

I gave Minjoon a tight-lipped smile and nodded, gathering all the files on a little pile in front of me. I couldn’t pinpoint why exactly I was so uncomfortable in this situation, but there was just a feeling creeping up my back that something was wrong and I had no idea why. I squeezed my trembling fingers into a fist and listened to Minjoon explaining basic information to the violent crimes team about Yoongi and his organisation. I listened on a half ear, most of the things long time known to me, some even information I could potentially expand on if it wasn’t immediately followed up by questions I couldn’t answer.

I imagined Yoongi in my mind, I thought back to our last meeting and tried to summon back the feeling of power and vindication I felt after leaving his office with the trackers. I still haven’t followed up with him, still didn’t come by for another battle or to see his irked but intrigued gaze. He’d tell me something smug, teasing, he’d maybe call me a thief or make fun of me for looting when I was a police officer.

But now I wouldn’t be able to follow up on it anymore, with the investigation I’d be needed around the precinct more, I couldn’t get away with disappearing so much without any explanation. And I still didn’t have another plan how to track down Hoseok either.

Minjoon moved to the wall and was gesturing to some of the photos, mainly going over the main six. I zeroed in on the pics we had of the man I was after so desperately, most of them were taken of him on his phone or with a scowl on his face as he dealt with something in the docks, his strict face as scary as captivating.

It’s the face of a stone-cold killer, I reminded myself. They’re all killers. A feeling of unease fell over me, like I realised for the first time just how much I was playing with fire these past few months and more than ever I couldn’t comprehend why Yoongi was so lenient with me, when I now first-hand experienced how his enemies ended up.

By the time we were done in the conference room, it was already getting dark outside. Seungcheol and Sunmi departed with a few nice words and promises to meet us next week at the scene, before they both disappeared down the hallway leading to the service parking lot. Hwang also scurried off somewhere without saying much, just one second he was there and the next there was no trace of him.

I stretched, my whole body absolutely screaming from sitting by the table for hours upon hours on no end, and as I got up one joint after another cracked like crisps getting stepped on, a long groan leaving my mouth as my muscles locked with the temporary relieving pain.

“Remind me to never sit at this table for longer than two hours next time,” I said to Minjoon, voice strained but carrying a tone of humour in it. He laughed lightly, not really looking at me as he tried to tidy up the table. I stole a few files right from under his hands and he shot me curious glance.

“Aren’t you going home?” he asked with a polite concern lighting his voice, “It’s been a long afternoon and we should be fresh tomorrow.” I gave him a toothy grin and gestured to the files in my hands.

“I will go home, I just want to copy these so I can have a look at them outside work,” I explained and moved to leave the room, but Minjoon stopped me with his hand gently grabbing my arm. I froze and turned to him, clocking in his sheepish expression with lips pursed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide how.

“What’s up?” I asked gently, turning to face him fully and give him my attention, hoping it would coax him into spilling whatever he was holding inside. He smiled at me blindingly and it instinctually made me smile too.

“Thanks for taking on the files,” he said and I felt my smile slipping a little, but held on steadfast, “Of course I’ll try to help you with it as much as possible when I have the free time for it.” For what felt like the thousandth time that day I nodded to avoid actually speaking on my feelings. I didn’t really know what I would tell him anyway. That I hoped that now that I was a part of the team officially I wouldn’t just get saddled with the desk work? I was grateful they wanted to take me to the site with them and I knew that my task was also important, but it still felt like I was a secretary to a detective team instead of fully being part of the investigation too.

“I knew I could count on you,” Minjoon sighed relieved and patted my head, ruffling my hair a bit in the process, “The moment Park mentioned this collaboration happening, I knew that I wanted to push for your participation. I’m glad he listened to me in the end.” My eyes widened enough to almost fall out of the sockets.

“You pushed me through to the team?” I asked totally flabbergasted. Minjoon only nodded with a mischievous expression. “You were so passionate about this from the beginning, I knew you had it in you to make it here,” he told me encouragingly. Warmth filled me from the inside, gratefulness almost making my eyes water as I took the information in.

“Thank you Minjoon,” I said as sincerely as I possibly could, “Truly, it means everything to me.” The man winked and then moved to leave the conference room. Right before he walked out he threw one last glance at me and said: “Don’t stay up too late.”

I was left standing there long minutes after the door banged shut after him, just processing the whole situation. There was still leeway for me to gain respect through this, I just had to prove myself. I had to go along and give it my hundred and ten percent, and with Minjoon on my side it was still possible for me to find my way into this unit. With new determination I set on, quickly copying the files and making my way to my car.

Sitting behind the wheel, I suddenly didn’t quite know what to do. Somewhere deep down I wanted to have one last showdown with Yoongi before disappearing. The way we left things was too open and there were things that needed to be said now. On the other hand, it would be a ballsy move to just disappear after what I pulled in his office a week ago. I was torn, but still, I already knew what I would end up doing.

I’ve already come to recognise the pattern – I would get upset at work, I would drive to Yoongi trying to prove something to myself, I would embarrass myself in front of him and then I would regret it and go home chastising myself for getting tangled into his games. But knowing it didn’t make the prospect of arguing with Yoongi over nothing any less tantalising.

And I had a big win under my belt now. I desperately needed to know, needed to see the effect of my office stunt.

Before I could talk myself out of it I put the car in gear and started driving in the direction of Pied Piper. It was too late for Yoongi to still be at the office, unless there were special circumstances, and between all his joints and businesses, I’ve found Pied Piper to be the safest bet when I wanted to find him quick. Glancing at the files sitting on my passenger seat I steeled myself and drove mindlessly, already knowing the road there by heart.

Thirty minutes later (because Itaewon was absolutely packed and I could barely make my way through the streets, not to mention park) I was marching up to the Pied Piper bouncers as I’d done countless times before, playing the part of the big bad detective as best as I could.

“Tell boss Lee Y/N’s here,” I told one of the muscley bald men immediately as I was within earshot. He gave me an unimpressed look, eyes sliding from my head all the way to my toes with mocking eyes, before he scoffed.

“Boss isn’t here,” was all he said before he turned away from me, ignoring me in a way that was supposed to send me home with my tail tucked between my legs. Instead I rolled my eyes and loudly scoffed back.

“Look, whatever he told you about taking or not taking visitors, just use your walkie-talkie and say my name, I assure you he’ll want to see me,” I played up my annoyance, putting my hands on my hips and tapping my foot impatiently, admittedly probably looking pretty funny to the guys even though I was trying to be so tough to sway them. I was surprised I wasn’t already a known face around here to be perfectly honest, but it is true that I’ve never recognised any of the men even after numerous visits, so the chance I was talking to someone new every time, or at least that enough time has passed to make them forget about me, was extremely high.

The man turned back to me with an outright hostile face and I froze for a moment, fear gripping me for split second before I threw him a glare of my own. The situation was quickly spinning out of control and I didn’t know for how long I’d get away with messing with them, but before I had to start thinking about plan B, the other bouncer turned to us.

“He’s telling the truth, boss isn’t in tonight,” he said in a much more mellow voice, determined to keep the peace. I immediately changed my attitude, giving him a tight smile.

“Where is he then? Dynamite? The hotel?” I fired a question after question and it made the bouncer regard me with a glint of amusement in his eyes, like a giant that was watching a kitten fight for its life.

“I have no idea,” was all he said. I kept waiting for him to elaborate, but once enough time has passed I realised he just wasn’t going to say anything more. I narrowed my eyes at him, which he seemed to be quite enjoying seeing me pissed.

“You don’t know or you can’t tell?” I asked him again, the tapping of the foot back, and I felt a little too much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the supermarket. He just shrugged and shook his head. “We’re way too low in the food chain to have information about his whereabouts,” the first bouncer grumbled under his breath without glancing our way, keeping his eyes on the line of impatient club-goers trying to get in.

“Okay then,” I drawled out annoyed, “Is Taehyung in?” No matter how much I preferred not meeting the overly flirty man, he would definitely know where to find Yoongi or just call him over, so it was worth surviving his company for one evening. But the way the second bouncer smiled like a cat that was about to eat an unguarded piece of meat, I already knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

“Nope,” he drawled out the p and released it in an annoying pop, grinning at me like it made his entire evening. I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t dignify it with an answer.

“Alright, is Jimin at The Rose?” I was literally grasping at the straws bringing up the man I haven’t even officially met yet, but it was my last shot unless I wanted to go annoy Namjoon who for sure was still sitting in that little office of his. But I made such a great job of totally avoiding him and I’d rather keep it that way. There was just something about him that made me tense and uncomfortable.

“It’s highly possible,” ground out the first bouncer, clearly done with our bullshit. I gave them a fake smile and if my eyes could kill, both of them would have already been speared through four times over, but judging by the barely concealed snickers of the second bouncer, he was having the best time ever. I rolled my eyes at him one last time and then walked off without another word.

The drive to The Rose took me another additional 20 minutes, but thankfully this part of the entertainment block was far less crowded as it was too high-end for most. The line in front of the door was much shorter and consisted mostly of young women, most of them likely hoping they would be able to bag a filthy rich good-for-nothing as they excitedly gazed at the building and made eyes at the bouncers hoping they would be let in. The guys standing here were also very well dressed, both sporting nice suits with monochrome t-shirts in dark colours, hair swept and gelled up as if they were part of the exclusive clientele.

I almost felt ashamed walking up to them wearing my crinkled work clothes, hair no doubt so messy I must have looked half insane from the back. I regretted not at least brushing through it once in the car, but now it was too late as I was making my way along the line trying to look as confident as possible. I ignored the dirty looks from the ladies for skipping the line and showing up looking almost like a homeless person and instead carried myself until I stood directly in front of the two men guarding the door.

“Is Park Jimin here tonight?” I asked, pushing down the feelings of annoyance at the mounting sense of déjà vu. I just hoped I wouldn’t helplessly spin in circles here as well. All I wanted was to laugh in Yoongi’s face a little, but apparently universe chose this moment for some karmic warning. I swear to god in the past few months those bastards were almost at every corner I went to, it was literally impossible to dodge them, and now this one evening I can’t get hold of anyone? What was this bullshit?

The men regarded me with their impassive gazes, also judging me from head to toe, before one of them turned towards the door and discreetly pulled out a walkie-talkie. I sagged in relief as that was a good sign. Jimin was most likely here and probably open to visitors.

The man turned back to me and only huffed out “name?” without any preamble. I quickly stuttered it out, the nerves now taking over as I realised I would have to face the man for the first time ever completely alone, both without a police partner or Yoongi present.

The man relayed the information and within seconds I was being ushered through the door inside, catching spiteful jealous glances from the line of hopeful visitors. If you knew why I was here girls, you’d be a lot less ruffled about it.

The bouncer didn’t leave my side for a second, hand firmly planted on my shoulder as he steered me through the fancy club. I was infinitely grateful for his paranoia as I’ve never been here before and had no clue where to go. He led me to a discreet staircase at the furthest wall from us, hidden directly behind the bar. At first I thought he would bring me to a secluded little area in the VIP zone like in Dynamite or Pied Piper, but I quickly realised this was way too hidden to be meant for public use.

My confusion and unease continued to mount as we climbed those stairs and the sounds from the club died down to a near complete silence except for the bass of the music reverberating through the walls. Up on the little standing was a tiny area for waiting, containing a small sofa and table set with some dried flowers as decoration. And directly in front of us as we got up was an ornate dark wood door, perfectly fitting into the whole vibe of flamboyant wealth.

The bouncer finally let me go to shortly knock on the door and then walked straight off, leaving me standing there with my mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. Before my confusion led me to do something even more stupid, the door swung open and there he stood, Park Jimin, god amongst men, giving me a megawatt smile, laying his charm on so thick I could laugh. With a wide gesture he invited me inside what I now realised must have been his office.

I walked in unsurely, head flitting from side to side trying to take everything in, the nervousness reaching crescendo, especially when I heard the door click shut behind us. I quickly turned to face the man again and he was smiling just as seductively and invitingly as before, now gesturing to the lavish red sofa taking up the corner of the room.

“Please, do have a seat,” he said languidly, the words flowing out of him smoothly and wrapping around me like a ribbon, his voice as mesmerising as siren’s song. Eyes wide and shocked silent, I just went with it and almost unwittingly moved over to the corner to sit. From here I could see the whole room, the bookcases filled with books, files and memorabilia, the massive dark wood desk situated right opposite of the door and the art on the walls depicting various landscapes.

“They’re all legitimate, mostly 19th century European painters,” Jimin supplied immediately as he saw me watching the framed pieces, “Joonie-hyung and Tae have an interest in art. They occasionally buy some and put it in our houses or offices.” I felt myself steadily blushing more and more under his intense gaze, his blonde hair swept out of his face in a way that perfectly accentuated his sharp face and his plump reddish lips pulled into a soft smirk. It wasn’t the same way Yoongi smirked, no, this was a smirk of a man who knew he was beautiful and could sway people only with few heated looks and sweet words.

He slowly walked over and took a seat next to me, making me quickly look away and feign disinterest, almost going to the extent of picking at my nails just to put some barrier between us. I wasn’t used to encountering men like Park Jimin and I felt like a fish out of water here in his office, sitting on his no doubt extremely expensive couch.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked courteously, elegantly gesturing to the closed bar to my left. I immediately shook my head, already far too acquainted with how it went with them.

“I’m here by car,” I told him resolutely, but he only smiled sweetly. He shifted closer to me slightly, hand curling along the top of the sofa until his hand almost touched my shoulder, and he curled his fingers as if going to caress my arm. I felt like a stone statue, just sitting there watching him, terrified and nervous and confused in the face of his approach.

“I’m sure we could arrange a way for you to get home by other means,” he said leisurely, hand staying firmly put just a ghost’s breath away from the goosebumped skin of my upper arm. At this point my brain finally started catching up with me and going back online.

I knew he only flirted with me this aggressively for two reasons – either he was buying time or he was scoping me out just like Taehyung had back then when we first officially met. I was betting on the second option.

“No, thank you,” I finally said firmly, “I’m not really much of a drinker.” That had the man snorting and he relaxed into the soft pillows. I threw him a confused look at such a reaction.

“So I’ve heard,” he explained with an amused glint in his eyes, “Jin-hyung would love you. He’s always trying to get us to drink less.” Then he put a finger to his  pouting lips in a thinking motion, making a whole act of it with his eyes flitting from side to side as well.

“But on a second thought, he’s not currently too impressed with you,” Jimin giggled like we were sharing high school level secrets and not talking about extremely dangerous men potentially having it out for me, “So maybe he wouldn’t be too hot about your drinking habits.” With that he snickered some more, entertained eyes watching me with a disconcerting undertone of detachment and cold calculatedness.

So Jimin was the type to not censor himself too much, talking quite freely about things I could never get out of the others, even though the topics were still carefully measured. He didn’t seem like someone that tiptoed around things and rather preferred to be a little more open. But there was a deceptiveness in this approach as well and I imagined he would be quite good at slowly talking all of your secrets out of you.

“I’m sure he shares that sentiment with the driver,” I hesitatingly played along, on purpose choosing to not to use Jungkook’s name to spite him once Jimin told him about our conversation, “He seems to despise me. I truly have no idea why; I’ve never done anything to him.” I put on the innocence act so thickly it circled back into sarcasm, and I couldn’t help the little smirk at knowing that at least the youngest was the one person I would always manage to get pissed off. I didn’t seem to be having much luck with it with the others. Especially now that I would prefer to dodge all Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Jimin threw his head back with his hearty high-pitched laugh, delighted at the dig at their youngest. When his eyes trained back onto me, they were no less dangerous but a lot more intrigued. I realised that while he was sitting very comfortably with one leg under the other, side leaning on the sofa and his hand still hanging between us leisurely, I sat next to him as stiff as a log with my hands nervously picking at the hem of my t-shirt. I tried to relax a little more, but it seemed impossible next to such a natural predator. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I just stumbled right into a dragon’s mouth.

This guy was intense, and I suddenly found myself missing Yoongi’s annoying jabs and smug self-assured smirks. At least I could match his and Jungkook’s energy, but Jimin just kept throwing me off, and it didn’t help that he was one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.

“While I do love this small talk at Kookie’s expense,” Jimin said finally after just staring at me trying to get comfortable with a barely concealed entertained grin, “But tell me, officer, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

He was back to his flirtatious sensual approach with the way he almost purred those words, trying to get a reaction out of me again. He almost succeeded, the blush attempting to rise to my cheeks, but I scolded myself and looked towards the desk to keep a barrier between us.

“Funnily enough, I’m actually looking for Yoongi,” I muttered, trying to sell it as a serve to knock him down a little, but I was too unsure of myself and honestly done with this whole fucking evening. Jimin pouted, his full lips curling down sullenly before they pulled into a smirk again.

“Figures, but here I was… hoping you’d finally come to meet me too,” he flirted some more, putting on almost a little breathless tone, “since all the others already got the pleasure.”

“I haven’t met the doctor yet,” I blurted out without thinking, immediately mashing my lips shut in embarrassment. Jimin giggled lightly.

“That’s true,” came his sing-song voice, “Thank you for comforting me.” Before I could say anything, there was a knock at the door. I watched as Jimin’s sweet flirty mask fell right off of his face, eyes flickering with a hint of irritation and expression turning colder in an instant.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said in what I assumed was his normal tone of voice, pretty face hardening with the hint of annoyance. I was totally dumbfounded, rendered speechless by such a switch up, eyes still glued to his form as he moved through the room to open the door. At least I knew he didn’t care about keeping up his performance in front of me, that had to count towards something. He probably got from me whatever it was he was looking for. I nervously went through our interaction up until now trying to decipher what it could have been, but came up empty.

Now that the sofa was empty and the man was on the other side of the room, I finally had space to breathe and sank a little into the lavish furnishing. The door swung open with one swift motion of his arm and without giving the person on the other side a chance, Jimin said: “I said no interruptions.” His eyes screamed some kind of warning to them and I straightened a little. “I have a guest,” were Jimin’s next words and the person wordlessly slinked away, Jimin immediately shutting the door.

I gave him a look, which he returned with an amused smile, much realer this time. There seemed to be something a little mocking in his eyes and it creeped me out, it made him seem much less human and more like a vampire that was about to suck me empty of my blood. I quickly shook my head to push that silly thought away and focused on him properly again.

“Sorry detective, but I’m sure you’d understand that I wouldn’t want to bore you with all the business talk,” he said pointedly, voice hiding a warning to me as well not to probe more. In these circumstances I had no other choice but to comply, I wasn’t properly armed to deal with him one on one at this point; and I’d rather not provoke him when I barely even knew him. Maybe I’d be a little braver with Yoongi present, but as it stood now I was simply at a disadvantage.

“Of course,” I replied just as courteously as when he invited me to sit on the sofa. To that Jimin gave me an amused smile but was obviously pleased with my quick surrender.

“I heard what you did in hyung’s office,” he stated suddenly matter-of-factly, and I was sure that if I had been drinking something I’d choke. The blush was fighting its way back onto my face having been confronted with the information like this by Jimin of all people, who was watching me entertained by my reaction.

“He had something of mine. Besides, I’m afraid that’s between me and Yoongi,” I managed to squeak out, avoiding his gaze to keep at least the illusion of unbotherness, “and Jungkook I guess.” Jimin leaned on the massive desk, making himself comfortable there as well, eyes now appraising me more sharply with all the sweetly flirty aura gone. I squirmed in my place under such scrutiny, nervousness hitting me in overwhelming waves.

“Well, you’re in luck, because one of them is making their way here right now,” Jimin said in the end, some of the sharpness melting away a little. I had no idea what he really was looking for, but whether he found it or not, he seemed at least a little satisfied with my reaction. Which didn’t help me calm down at all, he was still freaking me out but in a completely different way than Namjoon did. Yoongi definitely chose his companions well, all of these men had something in them that gave me the creeps.

“I’d hope it’s Yoongi, I’m not sure Jungkook coming here would mean anything good for me,” I shuddered at the thought, all of the pictures of the younger man with Hoseok and the implicit but very clear connection between them and their work resurfacing to the forefront of my mind and setting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Jimin laughed, as carefree as ever, head lightly tipping back with the motion. When he looked back at me, something dangerous glinted in his eyes.

“You don’t even know how right you are, detective,” he remarked somewhat ominously, a dark edge creeping into his amused voice, “But I don’t think you need to worry about that right now.” The unspoken yet in there put me on edge, but I was well aware of what happened to people that posed a danger to Yoongi and his position. Even if he wouldn’t send a police officer to the bottom of the river, that didn’t mean I was safe from a potential retribution.

I returned his gaze as steadily as I could, trying to push down all the swirling wisps of fear and unsettlement licking at my heart but I had no idea how successful I really was. There was nothing I could read from Jimin’s carefully guarded face as we sat there for a few tense silent moments and sized each other up, before Jimin suddenly perked up again with a full grin and gestured to the bar again.

“You sure I can’t tempt you into a drink?” he tried for the third time and I almost for a few seconds considered saying yes, but quickly shut that part of me down. Instead I gave him a polite smile and shook my head, the tension creeping back into my back and shoulders the longer we sat there.

Jimin seemed to be quite content with leaving me to stew in my own head, watching amusedly as I squirmed around on the sofa and sent him nervous glances the longer the silence stretched on. I surely had no particular topics to discuss with him and Jimin was suddenly as quiet as a mouse.

Just as I was considering just getting up and leaving to escape the oppressive aura in the room, the door opened and my head snapped in the direction of the movement. At first I could only see a veiny calloused hand in a black jacket before slowly the rest of the man came into view. Yoongi walked in leisurely, like he was on his personal runway, a relaxed smirk on his face as his eyes flitted between the two of us. His hair was messy and it was the first time I saw him not perfectly put together and in more casual clothes.

The way my whole body decompressed in relief upon seeing his smug face was actually embarrassing and it left me flushed and avoiding his gaze. But Jimin was stressing me out for the past twenty minutes and it was impossible to match his energy like I’d learnt with Yoongi. With him it was already a stable ground for me, Jimin on the other hand left me scrambling to reconsider my strategy every few minutes. I hadn’t even realised, but I was mentally exhausted after the almost half an hour we spent here alone, not to mention the long draining day I had.

I felt like a little kid whose mom left him in the cashier line to run for something last minute and finally returned just in time to handle the check out.

He didn’t speak to me at all at first, instead went straight for Jimin. They exchanged pleasantries and whispered to each other for a moment before the blond man moved back to the sofa to sit down next to me, while Yoongi made himself comfortable in the big leather chair behind the table.

I sent a wary glance at the new occupant and inched a little away from him, my nerves so high strung I felt like a bow string about to snap. Finally, Yoongi’s amused eyes set on me and his lips curled arrogantly as they usually did, and I found some security in the familiarity of it all.

“How sweet of you to turn half the Seoul upside down for me,” was how he greeted me and I couldn’t help the scowl, “The boys told me how desperate you were for me.” That could have only meant the two bouncers at Pied Piper that were just intent on screwing me over and playing with me, and now no doubt intent on embarrassing me further. I fought off any kind of blush that could be induced by his choice of words and instead glared at him in annoyance.

“What can I say, I’m used to always finding you when I want it,” I retorted back firmly, cursing them both for coming out with such flirty personas, “You’re quite the creature of habit.” Yoongi’s lips spread in a mean grin, eyes glinting with something darker than I was used from him.

“I was enjoying some company tonight,” he said matter-of-factly, eyes quickly flicking up to me to gauge my reaction, “Forgot I have a needy little detective to take care of.” There was an actual tinge of annoyance in his voice as he said that, and it took me a moment to clock it. I rolled my eyes at him so vehemently I felt a warning pang of an onsetting headache, now wishing I had said yes to Jimin’s offer so I could theatrically sip on a drink.

That explained a lot about tonight – his unknown location, his rumpled appearance and the sudden twinge of irritation that was so hard to come by with this man. Jimin probably pulled him here before he got any action and now he was mad at me for ruining his fun. My lips immediately curled up, mouth fighting off the huge, entertained grin that wanted to split my face in half, a laugh clawing its way out of my throat, and I lost to it. I quickly turned my head away from him before the laugh overtook me, politely trying to hide the amusement with my hand, but to no avail. He still saw my shoulders shaking and my barely concealed snickering.

When I turned back around, expression still painted with too much mirth, I found that his usually smug smirk was twitching in displeasure on his face. It almost made me want to laugh again, like when you’ve finally calmed down after a fit and then made eye contact with your friend and started all over again, but this time I more or less managed to swallow it down. No pun intended. A new wave of giggles threatened to hit me as I rode the high of finally being the one that laughs at him being mad and not the other way around, but I curbed my enthusiasm somewhat. And to think it was about something as stupid as this. Well, if for nothing else, at least today’s meeting cockblocked him, that would be some payback.

“I’m so sorry for ruining your evening fun,” I managed to choke out, still fighting to calm down a little, “I’m sure you can get your dick sucked tomorrow.” Jimin next to me also seemed to be pushing down some giggles of his own, quickly gulping down whatever it was he had in a glass that I didn’t notice him pouring, eyes stubbornly watching the door instead of his disgruntled hyung.

There was just something so human about Yoongi getting mad about this and it reminded me that no matter what, we were both just people, not only criminals and detectives. It made me feel like more like I was attending a college party instead of chasing after a mobster.

“So what do you need tonight?” Yoongi grumbled finally, giving Jimin a chastising look, “I doubt you came here to laugh at me.” I smirked wickedly again, really fucking wishing I had a glass for the dramatic effect, but instead I just leisurely drummed on my knee with my fingers.

“Actually, funny you say that,” I told him smugly, “because I did.” A spark of recognition bloomed through Yoongi’s eyes, and he suddenly relaxed into the chair, the arrogant aura back full force. My heart stuttered a little in anxiousness, hoping I’d manage to stay on the high horse for a little while longer.

“I see,” Yoongi purred out in the manner that annoyed me the most when we interacted, gaze lazily sliding over me from the corner of his eyes, “so this is about the tracker.” I gulped, holding onto the confidence I felt just a minute ago for dear life and trying to come across just as relaxed and smug as he was all the time. He had much more practice in that though, and I would always tell on myself somehow.

Not really thinking of a smart retort fast enough, I only hummed and smiled in what I hoped was a mysterious way. That made Yoongi laugh a little, but it wasn’t demeaning, no, it was more a laugh of incredulity, the kind that didn’t set me alight with fiery rage but the kind that had me preening inside knowing I’d managed to one up him, if only for a moment.

“I must say, I cannot quite explain with words the disbelief I felt upon discovering that a police officer just looted my office desk and so shamelessly stole from me. And right on camera too,” Yoongi’s voice was amused, laced with little puffs of laugh, “How very naughty of you, detective.” He tsked at me playfully, but there was something else in his voice. Something that took me embarrassingly long to recognise, something that for a brief confusing moment made me strangely proud and happy and then promptly filled me with dread. Awe. Respect. Yoongi was delighted with what I’d done.

“But very good, officer,” the man continued, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil, “Well played. And now we’ve switched roles, haven’t we? Now you have something of mine.” I felt like I was hit with a bucket full of ice, something freezing and acidic setting into the pit of my stomach and making my insides churn. I sat there, totally petrified, watching the dark-haired man sitting behind the massive desk like he owned half the world and all the people in it. And with terror I realised, he did.

“But because I am so gracious and because, as you put it, I have an endless supply of illegal shit,” he winked quickly, using the words I’d told him just few weeks earlier while giving him a parking ticket, “I’ll allow you to keep it. No need to return. What’s a tracker or two between friends, isn’t that right officer?”

I finally managed to school my expression, reacting to his lopsided smirk with a steely cold grin of my own as we stared each other down, completely ignoring the presence of another person in the room with us. Inside I stoked the fires of anger and annoyance I felt all the times we’ve interacted before, anything to override the horror that gripped me at how genuinely proud I was for a moment knowing I did something he truly had to respect.

“We’re many things, Min Yoongi,” I growled out, “But friends definitely isn’t one of them.” To that he only lazily smirked my way, leaning back into his chair.

“Aren’t we?” he asked jovially, “Isn’t a part of what friends do that they keep each other’s secrets? We’ve been doing a very good job of that lately.” I scowled at him, but before I could say anything, he continued.

“Speaking of that,” he drawled out, “I’m quite disappointed with you. I thought you’d have my file memorised, but obviously you don’t keep that much of a close eye on me.” There was a beat of silence during which I only looked at him mildly irritated and confused, not knowing where this jab was coming from.

A giggle to my right pulled my eyes there and I once again found myself under the intense scrutiny of Jimin’s eyes. His were sharply watching our exchange, some sort of dark joy setting into them making me shudder.

“You forgot hyung’s birthday,” Jimin drawled out, fake pouting at me. He was once again putting on the act he had when I arrived here and I narrowed my eyes at him, now more confident and definitely angrier than I was before.

“I waited for whole two weeks, thinking you’d bring it up, but I see that it completely slipped your mind,” Yoongi immediately jumped on, the two men sending each other giggly looks and I realised they were taking the piss out of me. The fight drained out of me and instead I committed to memory how Yoongi seemed to be more relaxed today and even joked around like this with Jimin, joining in on his mischief. I wondered if it was because it was Jimin or because it was due to today’s circumstances, but he was different and it had my insides twist in a confusing cocktail of emotions.

“The only time I’ll wish you happy birthday is after I’ve put you behind bars,” I say, making my voice as impassive and steady as possible, throwing in a little weak but still hopefully mean smile. Yoongi’s eyes on me sharpened a little, the smirk growing darker, as if he was challenging me, as if he was both amused by and supportive of my resolution.

“Well, it looks like I’ll never hear those two words from you, but don’t worry,” he gave me another wide grin, “when your birthday comes in autumn, I’ll be the first to congratulate you.”

I didn’t like to think about how close I was skirting the boundary with Yoongi, that there were lines smudging from a police officer and a criminal into just rivals ribbing each other and egging each other on, trying to irritate the other more every time they meet. When I met him with him, I rarely tried to do any constructive helpful investigating, instead we just barked at each other and threw jabs around until one of us grew too irritated to continue. I wasn’t particularly proud of myself in those moments.

The moment I walked into his world, I ceased to be a detective and turned into a little annoying brat just trying to provoke a guy I didn’t like.

The last time we saw each other was a huge breakthrough for me in this regard. I realised just how much I was playing with fire, smudging those lines. I had to be able to keep my head on straight when we talked, I had to pay more attention to useful details instead of trying to get a rise out of him. I had to go back to square one and reassess the situation, find a clear goal and only interact with him in a way that helps me reach it.

The strange feelings surrounding Yoongi’s sudden clear sign of approval of my ways, that I rather decided not to unpack yet. I decided to stay away for some time anyway, and it would help me avoid this for as long as possible.

That’s how I found myself sitting in my room one Saturday evening, staring at the fucking map wall in my apartment surrounded by files upon files detailing cruel and vicious murders. Since my map was quite full with the information I gathered from my unlawful loitering (as Jungkook once put it when he bumped into me around the office building), and adding more unrelated info to it would only make it messy, I bought another map.

I cleared out another wall, shuffling furniture away, taking down pictures and decorations so I would have enough space for a fucking murder map. Right across from my bed. I got to wake up to this every day, lucky me. But it helped me orientate myself between everything that was brought up. And this one at least felt a little more temporary.

I started with Yoongi’s, moving some strings around. Removing Hoseok’s bright yellow string from the Songhyeong-dong warehouse, I sighed as I remembered that whole fiasco. It was probably safe to say that he either didn’t have his base there, or he barely spent his time there anyway and thus it wouldn’t be very useful. But he had to have some office, otherwise it would be impossible to keep up with everything. Yoongi and Namjoon had their offices, Taehyung’s was in Pied Piper and Jimin’s in the Rose, Jin had his practice, on Jungkook’s I had a hunch – the only one I still had no clear address on was Hoseok. And I wasn’t even sure where he lived. I knew he moved about the docks during the day a lot, but he had to have a base.

But there was always a possibility that Hoseok’s office was shared with their youngest, which was a member of the gang that I explored the least. First of all, he was impossible to trail, but that might have been when I still had the tracker on so it could be worth another try. The second part was the one that truly kept me away from him though. He didn’t hesitate to show his distaste in me, and I already started to catch wind of how he and Yoongi butted heads when it came to how much I was allowed to engage. Thus, if he caught me focusing on him, it could potentially have some devastating consequences and I was hesitant to risk that.

But – I knew where he could have his office. I mean, it must have been there unless they pulled a fast one and put him into the same building as Yoongi and Namjoon, which I thought I would have noticed by now.

Jungkook was the owner of a security company, the one that kept an eye on Yoongi and employed his closest bodyguards, like that guy that brought me coffee while I was staking out Hoseok that I later found in the military database as Choi Soobin, one of the top operatives of Jungkook’s company. He owned it in the same way that Taehyung owned the Pied Piper or Jimin owned The Rose, but from some surface digging it seemed this business was one that Yoongi directly interacted with the least.

Hoseok was formally employed by a shipping company under Yoongi’s wide wings of corporations, but their headquarters were a small rundown building by the Bukseong Dock and when I was messing around there, I didn’t see him come in once. And if their job in the gang was truly so similar, it would make sense that Hoseok would also be stationed in Jungkook’s company, also considering it was much closer to the centre and thus closer to Yoongi and the others, which the port wasn’t.

I would have to investigate that properly, bite the bullet and follow around Jungkook for a while and see whether I would have more luck in locating the ever so elusive sunshine of the group. Problem was more that I would never be allowed to come in like with Yoongi’s office. Even if Hoseok was as forthcoming as Taehyung and Jimin, Jungkook would never allow that unless I brought the proper paperwork or had a legitimate reason for my visit. I doubt I’d make it past the reception.

I jotted this all down around the map and moved on to the other a little smaller one that was now occupying the neighbouring wall. For that one I brought a whole new set of pins and colourful strings as I would need a lot of colours. I spent the last two days going through the extra cases Sunmi and Seungcheol brought over, not eliminating anything yet and just soaking up the information.

So, that night, I spent hours meticulously going through each file and marking the place on the map along with a note with the victim’s name, date of murder and manner of death. It was a gruesome and macabre way of spending my evening, but I had to see it all before me like this to start making sense of anything.

I ended up with fifteen additional spots across the whole of Seoul, each marking a murder potentially linked to my “friend” Min Yoongi. Lastly, I added in the pin and information for our main case, the multiple homicide that kickstarted all of this.

Roughly I went across the areas that I knew were around Yoongi’s businesses and therefore “his turf” with a red marker, already seeing some overlay. Unfortunately I didn’t have that much of an extensive knowledge on Kim’s turf, but I’d fill it in eventually. For now, I focused on trying to see whether any of the murders took place around any places I knew were owned by the Min gang and when I found some, I marked them with a big red circle. Those would be my priority.

Huffing out a tired sigh, I went to sleep that night with a heavy heart and brain that just wouldn’t shut up.

Monday morning it was finally time to meet up with Seungcheol and Sunmi at the scene of the murder, as they were preoccupied before now. I could barely sleep the night before, both nervousness about seeing it and excitement about being involved not letting me have a peaceful night. Even though the place must have been long since cleaned up, I still never went to an active crime scene like this before and my stomach was tied up in knots knowing I was about to walk somewhere people have been murdered.

Thus I found myself nervously shuffling from foot to foot in front of the warehouse at 6 am, a whole hour before our agreed time. I told myself I would at least check out the perimeter, but really I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in without a warrant and all the paperwork was with Minjoon. In my arms I nervously clutched the copied files, the contents burning through to my sweaty hands. I spent some time looking around the port, finding my gaze straying south ever so often.

Just the little pond across, there was the cursed Songhyeon-dong warehouse. If I strained my eyes real hard I could almost see its roof laughing at me and reminding me of my shame. Yoongi’s warehouses were mainly in that area, with the bigger one in Songhyeon-dong and a few others scattered through Dong-gu and Manseok-dong. He pretty much ruled over the Bukseong Dock area and it was as firmly his turf as it could be, while the Kims mainly kept themselves to the smaller Bukhang Port just above.

The docks were a subject of huge contention between the two gangs, and while they supposedly talked it out and put the conflict to rest, anyone could see that they weren’t on good terms while pretending to be amicable. The Kims, as the second biggest family ruling over Seoul, have always tried to get rid of Yoongi to move to the top spot, and thus there were many clashes between the two, from which Yoongi every single time emerged victorious. He even took some land from them and pushed them more north. After many years of fighting they finally “made a pact”, but truly it was just a promise to keep out of each other’s way.

The ports being this close together only continued to bring up more tensions though, as they were practically stepping on each other’s toes.

If the assumption was true and this murder was the mark of a starting war, we were potentially entering a truly turbulent and truly bloody era in Seoul gang history. I shuddered only thinking about it. Though Yoongi would likely not let himself be dethroned; the fight would absolutely get very ugly very soon. It was in everybody’s best interest that this got dealt with before it got out of hand.

As the violent crime unit arrived a little later, we fell into a comfortable polite small talk, exchanging some jokes tentatively and feeling out the atmosphere between us. When I watched their friendly banter, a pang of jealousy hit my heart again, the disappointment with my own unit’s behaviour still weighing heavy on me, especially when both Seungcheol and Sunmi started asking me about my Academy years and showering me with positive comments and praises about my ranking until I was a blushing giggling mess. For a split second the proud glint in Yoongi’s eyes as he talked about the trackers flashed through my mind and I batted it away so forcefully I almost physically jerked, instead getting filled with guilt and unease. Truly, it was funny how okay I was with committing a crime until Yoongi praised me for it, how pathetically starved for attention and recognition I was that for a shameful few moments I felt pride about it.

Taking a deep breath to calm the raging storm inside me, I tuned back into the excited chatter of the two other officers. I would have time to make this right, but now I had to focus here.

“Are you nervous at all?” Seungcheol asked the moment he noticed me turning my attention to them and I stuttered for a bit, not expecting an immediate question.

“Yeah, I am, a little bit,” I answered him truthfully, looking down at my shoes to avoid the intensity of the topic, “but everybody’s gotta get through it. There’s a first for everything.” I gave them a little uncertain smile and Sunmi patted my shoulder in a cool yet slightly awkward gesture, showing she really wasn’t sure how to approach this situation with enough tact. I laughed at her a little and immediately felt the tension drain, quickly melting into the amicable atmosphere.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said in the end, “and if anything happens, just let us know.” I nodded at her all smiley, muscles much more loose now knowing I wasn’t completely alone here after all. The bitterness at my own unit’s approach still lingered at the edge of my mind, but I tried my best to ignore it and focus on the building before us.

“Did you manage to go through some of the additional cases?” Sunmi spoke up again, watching me casually with her hands hanging off of her jeans pockets. She had a leather jacket on, and her black hair was done in a sort of a messy bun at the back of her head, and I marvelled at how she wasn’t absolutely frying in that, considering the temperatures were steadily and abruptly rising.

“I went through them roughly, but I haven’t started putting them through the database yet,” I answered quickly, maybe a little too eager to speak to someone about the work I’ve done so far, “I put them on a map to see where they took place though. Trying to put into perspective how close they were to Yoon- I mean Min’s establishments.” I cursed myself for the slip up, getting too used to calling him only Yoongi and forgetting that not everyone would be totally cool with me calling him so familiarly when I supposedly wasn’t in contact with him at all. To me he right about now should be only some shadowy dark concept, a phantom that someone else is currently chasing after. Not a very real and very annoying man that I’ve cursed out to his face several times a month since December.

“That’s a pretty good start though,” Seungcheol told me warmly, patting my shoulder, “Once you start going through them properly, keep us updated on anything suspicious that crops up.” I nodded shyly, giving them both a genuine smile and got two very enthusiastic grins back. They continued with the chatter and I kind of listened on half an ear while nervously watching the road for the arrival of others.

Minjoon and Hwang ended up being ten minutes late, rolling up to the warehouse in a station car and with their own copied files of the crime. For a moment we stood there and exchanged yet more pleasantries, but I barely paid attention to whatever was being said. In my mind I kept being pulled to the southern Bukseong Dock, somewhat bitterly pondering whether Hoseok is currently there running around like a busy bee, no care in the world.

Assuming this murder was his work, he really could have done this during lunch break and then cooly return right to his job, like nothing even happened. That’s how close it was.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Minjoon gently laying his hand on my shoulder and with his head gesturing towards the warehouse. I gave him a queasy smile, nervous about entering and just generally guilty about how I’ve been handling everything, the mounting feeling of standing on the precipice of disaster following me around for the past few days, but I swallowed it all down and followed.

The warehouse was small and stuffy, the atmosphere dark with no real windows and no real way to get light inside. There was some furniture left, mostly pushed away from the middle of the room except for one old green sofa and a rackety desk with a few dusty chairs at the other end of the warehouse. There was a lot of mess lying around on the floor, mostly torn bloodied papers, obviously showing signs of the struggle that took place here.

There was a lot of scruff marks on the floor, along with dark stains covering most of the wearied pavement, and on a second look the sofa had similar streaks over it too. I tried to ignore it, stepping from foot to foot and looking over the remnants of the carnage. Due to the warehouse being closed off, there was still plenty of police tape holding onto the doors and the walls with even though police have already cleared it out.

We all simultaneously opened the files and pulled out the pictures, putting the space into the perspective of the crime. I half listened to Seungcheol and Sunmi go over the details again, talking about how they got the call and how they found the place when they came.

“We checked the perimeter too, but they were already gone by the time we got here,” the brunette said while nonchalantly looking around the space. “They must have been warned and ran,” Minjoon mumbled, but barely even looked up from the file, still going through the information again. Sunmi hummed, stopping by the sofa and turning to look at us.

Seuncheol talked some more about what the scene looked like when they arrived, pictures in hands, and I listened as attentively as I could, but there really wasn’t much added that wasn’t already said, so I just bided my time looking around on my own before we return to the station so I could start going through these other files. I also itched to pull Minjoon aside and ask what about this crime struck the unit as Min’s murders and not the Kim’s, what made them decide that this actually was Yoongi related.

I only tuned back in when the conversation turned to issues I haven’t heard anyone speak on yet. The warrants.

“It’s hard to push them through sometimes,” Sunmi was just saying with all the other men nodding solemnly in agreement when I started paying attention again, at first confused what she meant.

“We haven’t even managed to find an angle to slip by easier,” Hwang suddenly piped in after standing in silence in a corner the whole time, just watching us talk, “We even tried getting the info on who’s on shift when, but still it’s hard for them to come through. We’re still working on getting that issue solved.” I looked confusedly to Minjoon, never before having heard them discuss this.

I knew that a lot of the shit I did with Yoongi wouldn’t be enough to get a warrant authorised by the court. The tracking, the tailing, the taking shit from his office, I had warrants for none of that and as long as there were no warrants, anything I found couldn’t be used in the court for I was technically getting the information illegally. I could maybe send in anonymous tips for the police to investigate, but as a detective I couldn’t be bringing this kind of evidence to the table, that was solely for me and for the purpose of better understanding Yoongi and getting a better angle at taking him down legally.

But I had no idea the unit actually did have trouble with getting legitimate warrants against Yoongi, or whoever they were talking about. In the winter, when I asked, Minjoon said the stake outs weren’t done anymore because it took too much time and manpower and the outcome wasn’t good enough to go through with that (I myself found how tailing them was a thankless job that took weeks for a single piece of information to come out of it, so I understood), but he did mention a brief undercover gig, which would need a warrant. Since then, not much has been happening as it seemed that whatever approach or angle, we would hit a stone wall. Yoongi continued to appear impenetrable.

“It must be someone high up then,” Sunmi mused out loud, a hard expression setting over her face and turning her features into stone, “If the warrants aren’t coming through no matter what day or time, it must be someone high.” That got the men humming in agreement again, a sombre atmosphere falling over the warehouse.

“No matter who it is, we might be having trouble getting things authorised, but I would hope that now that there’s five of us on this and we have two whole units backing us up, that they wouldn’t try to mess with it too much,” Minjoon ended the conversation again, everyone now gearing up to leave.

I heard Sunmi say something to Hwang as they moved towards the main entrance, but I hung back for a moment. I’d begun realising in the past few months that I mostly preferred looking over things by myself, for as much as I craved the community, I found myself focusing better when I was on my own, so I wanted to take one last look before I left, comparing it to the pictures. As my eyes flitted from the pictures to the space, comparing every little thing I could spot, I slowly started fleshing out the crime a little more in my mind, putting it into a real space and studying the before and after.

My brain had already started filtering out the actual violence happening in them and I barely paid notice while I tried to focus on the other smaller details in the background. Most of it remained the same, with the exceptions of some of the mess cleared out and a barrel that was smouldering in the photos was now nowhere to be seen.

I was suddenly brought back into the present when a hand clasped my shoulder and I jumped, mouth opened to yelp and my heart almost beating out of my chest. Minjoon came around me with an amused chuckle, hand still firm where he held, and I gave him an embarrassed smile. I’ve been spacing out so much around them lately and it made me really jumpy, if I didn’t get my shit together quick I’d end up looking like a nervous wreck. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that far from the truth.

But there was something strangely vulnerable about showing my nervousness in this situation and I didn’t feel comfortable enough with Minjoon immediately assuming it was all about the blood and murder, when so many events have been weighing down on me these past few days that he didn’t even know about.

As predicted Minjoon looked at me empathically, eyes softening as he moved to pat my back a little. Then he just gestured towards the door. “We’re about to leave, I’ll drive you to the station,” he offered and started pulling us out without waiting for my response. I let him until we stood outside with his car right in front of us.

“I drove here, so I have to go by my car, but thanks for the offer,” I replied softly, a tight-lipped smile making itself home on my face since the feelings of discomfort haven’t fully left me. I hated being perceived as weak and this whole situation was driving me up the wall, but I fought myself to keep it together.

I looked at Minjoon again and by the look on his face and the unsure curve of his mouth as he was about to open it and speak, I was sure he was going to ask me if I was okay, so I beat him to the punch and directed the conversation elsewhere.

“That before, what you were talking about,” I said firmly, ignoring the look of surprise on his face at getting interrupted before even saying anything, “does that mean that there are moles between the prosecutors?” The man schooled his face well, going with the flow as if this was the direction the conversation was going to take from the beginning, and nodded his head with slight unease hanging onto his posture and aura.

“Yeah, we’ve known for a while, but we cannot identify who it is,” the senior detective confirmed, eyes turning a little hard at the thought, “There’s more of them, some even in our lines, we’re sure of that, but it’s hard to go after moles unless you go full scorched earth.” I agreed absent-mindedly, in head already going through the roster of the prosecutors I’ve encountered.

“It’d make sense that he’d have someone in his pocket,” I mused out loud, “probably someone who makes sure the requests don’t make it too high and get turned around at the first corner.” To that Minjoon just hummed and nodded, the conversation fizzling out. We looked around for a moment, just awkwardly standing there, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Hwang impatiently drumming on the hood of Minjoon’s car, stepping from foot to foot and looking more irritated by the second.

I seized the chance to end this exchange here before Minjoon brought it back around to me or before Hwang finally lost it and found a way to be mad at me for this as well. I clapped my hands together loudly.

“Well, we better go,” I let out with faux cheer and started moving down the road to where my own car stood, leaving a stuttering surprised Minjoon behind. Suddenly a thought popped into my head and I turned around on my heel, surprising the poor man even more when I abruptly back-tracked.

“By the way, there’s something I’ve been wondering,” I started, claiming the detective’s attention once more as he turned to me and stepped a little closer, “how did you realise this was the Mins? When you circled back to it, how did you know?” Minjoon’s face bloomed into a seasoned detective’s smile and I could tell he was battling a little between trying to stay mysterious and giving me a whole lesson on gang violence, and I couldn’t fight my own smile too at watching him struggle.

“I thought about it a little, looked at the crime scene photos again,” Minjoon started explaining, “Kims are more known to use guns, while Mins don’t that much, but they are capable of both. This was a homicide that mixed those together, so it really could have been anyone, but usually the cases that we end up attributing to the Kims have a little different MO.” I looked at him expectantly, hoping he’d expand on that, and I could see on his amused face that he was purposedly keeping me in suspense.

“Well, there’s not much to it really,” he continued finally, “in the few cases that are similar to this that we have and we consider them Kim family territory, they stormed in and probably first overpowered them and seemingly tied them up, based on the positioning of the bodies. While the Mins are always up for some good old-fashioned thrashing, when they don’t have time for clean-up they leave more mess. Which would explain why they’re so focused on the clean-up.”

“So when you came back to this case, it seemed more unorganised than if the Kims were behind it,” I finished for him, putting the two and two together quite easily now that he served it to me on a silver platter. He gave me a cheeky grin and nodded.

“It’s all assumptions, but it’s the idea we have about these two disposal teams. It’s always hard to tell and violence has a way masking things and making everything pretty murky. You never really know, but we still try to put some order into it,” Minjoon brought it all to close. Then he once again opened his mouth to speak more and once again got interrupted before anything could come out, but this time it was by disgruntled Hwang who was by now throwing us pointed glares. He cleaned his throat loudly and gestured towards the car, and both me and Minjoon suddenly burst into motion without any other words spoken, only sending each other a little apologetic look as we moved towards our own cars.

I ended up sitting there for a moment longer, once again going through the file of the homicide and this time truly looking at the bodies and their placement. This truly was just pure violence, but now looking at it through Minjoon’s eyes and seeing it as the more violent violence, I still couldn’t fully put it into perspective. The feeling of unease returned, and I quickly turned the pages until I was reading through the report for the thousandth time.

Evidence retrieved from the scene: barrel used to dispose of paperwork. Analysis inconclusive, nothing restored. Well, at least one mystery was solved.

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@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie

[mariacallous]

On August 27, Sabir Malik, a migrant worker in the Indian state of Haryana, was lured from his home and beaten to death by a mob of at least 10 Hindu men. They suspected that Malik, a Muslim, had eaten beef. Lab tests run by local police would later find that he hadn’t. But it didn’t matter: The attack was led by “cow vigilantes,” the name for Hindu nationalist militias and mobs that take it upon themselves to violently enforce Hindu supremacy on India’s minority communities, particularly Muslims.

A new report from the Center for the Study of Organized Hate (CSOH) shared exclusively with WIRED found that Instagram, which is owned by Meta, is becoming a key avenue for cow vigilantes to share their violent exploits with a wider audience, and even raise money.

“It's clear that Meta is complicit in the proliferation or the flourishing of cow vigilantism in India,” says Raqib Hameed Naik, founder and executive director of CSOH. These practices, Naik says, are likely in violation of Meta’s own policies around hateful and violent content.

Between February and August 2024, CSOH identified and analyzed 1,023 Instagram accounts run by users involved in cow vigilantism. Researchers found that 30 percent of the accounts shared content showing physical violence against Muslims involved in the cattle business. Some videos flagged by CSOH show high-speed car chases down India’s highways, where cow vigilantes tail and try to pull over trucks carrying cows. Others are more graphic, showing vigilantes beating men who they claim are engaging in cow slaughter or the cattle trade. One video, which garnered 5,200 likes, showed three frightened Muslim men in the trunk of a car. Another video shows a cow vigilante beating an older Muslim man with a wooden bat. That video received more than 1,200 likes.

The 121 Instagram Reels analyzed by CSOH showing physical violence against people transporting cattle garnered over 8.3 million views, and most were not labeled with the Meta filter that warns users of graphic content. CSOH found 53 accounts that had posted violent content were eligible for Instagram’s “Send Gift” function, which allows approved creators to earn money directly from donations from their followers. Other accounts would post bank details in their Reels or comments sections. “That means anyone on Instagram who likes their work can send them money to continue doing that violent extremist activity,” says Naik.

To test Meta’s systems, CSOH reported 167 posts that depicted violence using Instagram’s on-platform reporting systems. None of the posts had been removed as of October.

According to Meta’s policies, it does not allow “content that glorifies, supports, or represents events that Meta designates as violating violent events,” including “hate events” and “hate crimes.” Meta spokesperson Erin Logan told WIRED that Meta has “strict policies against violent or graphic content on our platforms, and we enforce these rules impartially. We will review this report once we are provided it and will remove any violating content and disable accounts of repeated offenders.” Logan declined to answer questions about whether Meta considers cow vigilantes as part of “violent or hateful groups.” Last year, the company removed profiles associated with Monu Manesar, a cow vigilante who was arrested and accused of instigating violence in Haryana.

Cow protection is not new in India, where Hinduism holds cows sacred. But the country also has a substantial minority population that includes Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs, and Adivasis, or indigenous people, that have no religious prohibition against eating beef. Dalits, the group at the bottom of the Hindu caste system, also sometimes consume beef. Due to their marginalized status, Muslims and Dalits in particular have long relied economically on the cattle industry.

Since India prime minister Narendra Modi and his Hindu-nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party swept into power in 2014, several states have passed stricter laws when it comes to cow protection. A Congressional Research Service report released last week noted that cow vigilantism was one of several types of “religiously motivated repression and violence” used by Hindus and supported by the country’s Hindu nationalist government against minority communities. According to an April report from Armed Conflict Location and Event Data, cow vigilantism was the motivator for 22 percent of all communal violence by Hindus targeting Muslims between 2019 and 2024.

“Vigilantes organize their targeting to disburse punishment to minorities through extrajudicial means,” says Angana Chatterji, chair of the Political Conflict, Gender and People’s Rights Initiative at UC Berkeley. “Hindu nationalist leaders in government have aligned with these militias, and their speeches often function as dog whistles to rally people, reportedly stirring them to commit these extrajudicial acts that have included home invasion, theft, and lynching.”

Chatterji says that making the violence public on a place like Instagram allows cow vigilantes to recruit new members and rally other Hindu nationalists in different parts of the country. “For Muslims and minorities and their allies, Instagram messaging is calculated to spread terror with impunity,” she says. “To indicate, ‘Stop protesting. We are going to come for you and there will be nothing to stop us,’ especially as law enforcement is often either absent or in collusion.”

Naik worries that the problem is much deeper than just the accounts he and his team were able to identify. Earlier this year, Meta shuttered CrowdTangle, its tool that allowed researchers to track content across its platforms. “I would say it's the tip of the iceberg,” says Naik, because there is no public access to Meta’s data for journalists and civil society organizations.

India is an important market for Meta—it accounts for more than 362 million users on Instagram alone—and in the past, the company has been hesitant to take action on content that could put it in the crosshairs of the Indian government. In 2022, The The Washington Post reported that Facebook allowed hate speech and propaganda to stay on the platform under pressure from India’s government. (Meta’s shareholders later voted against an inquiry into the issue.) In 2020, The Wall Street Journal reported that employees in India worried that Meta’s then-head of public policy for India was unevenly applying the company’s hate speech policies to allow violent rhetoric from Bharatiya Janata Party politicians to stay up on the platform.

“It is interesting to note what is stopped by social media platforms—because some messaging is stopped immediately—and what is allowed to grow,” says Chatterji. “Just the extent of violence in the images requires that they should be taken down.”

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Four)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: swearing, frustrations of amnesia, mentions of alcohol, slight panic attack, confession, secrecy, lots of bonding, mentions of sex, sexual tension, yearning, erection, dirty talk (details of sexual scenarios) over the pants action, mentions of oral (fem and male rec.)

a/n: another important chapter 🤭 please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

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You finally lower the frame after staring at it with heart eyes for way too long. There are more than a million thoughts running through your mind but it seems your ability to truly think is somewhat halted because of the giddiness that trots around in your belly. Yes, you’re confused. Yes, you’re shocked. Yes, you’re in almost complete disbelief. But if this is true?

Then yes, you are also over the fucking moon.

You continue to look at the framed photo, eyes scanning every little detail. You take a moment to wipe your sleeve against the glass, built up dust making it harder to see clearly. You, in a long, beautiful wedding gown, fingers wrapped around Jungkook’s bicep and a look of bliss on your face. Jungkook’s suit is hugging his muscles, the tie neatly wrapped around his neck as one of his hands rest over yours. His smile is huge and his cheeks are rosy. You know when he looks genuinely happy and this is it. 

You try to suppress a growing grin, heart still racing and beating loudly in your ears. But suddenly, a headache starts forming and you roll your eyes. Maybe it’s ‘logic’ trying to push against your forehead, causing an ache to bring you back to reality.

You are happy that apparently you and Jungkook are married. But you also don’t know for sure yet. It might seem obvious but hey, you never know. This would explain the secrecy and his lonely apartment. He doesn’t actually live there, right? Maybe he just got that place quickly so he could keep up the façade of you two only being friends. 

But why keep this a secret in the first place? 

It is huge news so maybe that’s why. 

Regardless, you need to confront Jungkook. You need to tell him you know about this and if it’s actually true. And hopefully he will be just as pleased as you. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You decide to stick the frame under your arm as you close the box again. You glance around the attic one last time. Boxes everywhere, lots of dust and lots of evidence of a life you don’t know. But at least you know something and you’re going to stick to your word—nothing more than the recipe book…even though, you found something else entirely. 

Climbing down the attic steps, you can hear Jungkook’s snores from the living room. You finally get the attic closed but when the door shuts, your entire body goes still at the loud ‘bang’ when it slams shut. You’re quick to snap your head in the direction of Jungkook but when you don’t hear his snores anymore, you feel your insides twist and turn. 

Frozen, you keep your body turned in the direction of the living room and it seems Jungkook’s snores don’t continue. And then you hear the sound of feet on the wooden floors.

“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice is distant and groggy. 

You take a deep breath, eyes going to the ladder and the frame under your arm before you hold it in your hands and bring it to your chest, picture facing you. You know he’s going to appear in the hallway any second as he looks for you and you know you have to face him regardless.

“In the hall.” You finally call out. 

Not even five seconds pass before Jungkook’s sleepy figure appears before you. His hair sticks up in all directions, fist rubbing at his eye as he tries to adjust to the light in the hallway. It takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing. You, beneath the attic with a ladder next to you and something in your hands. 

“What—” He glances around much more quickly now, feet suddenly moving as he comes closer to you. “What are you doing?” He finally looks awake. Alert. Panicked. “Hey, what are you—are you trying to get into the…” He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “What are you doing, y/n?”

“Well—”

“—Did you go into the fucking attic?” He cuts you off, eyes on the ceiling as panic and concern paints his face. 

“I needed to find something.” You tell him calmly. “So I—”

“—What the fu…” He swallows hard, eyes not finding yours. “I told you not to…” Jungkook’s fingers go to his temples, eyes shutting as he tries to gather his thoughts. “You realize how fucking—”

“—I didn’t snoop into anything, really.” You rush to say though you speak slowly. Your own concern etching itself onto your features. “I was only looking for a recipe book.”

Jungkook finally looks at you and you feel small. “A fucking recipe book? That’s worth going into the attic for? I told you that there are too many things in there that would overwhelm you!” His chest moves up and down quickly, lips set in a firm line as he stares at you incredulously. “This—”

“—I only found this.” You keep your voice calm. You flip the frame to face him and you watch as his entire expression falls, every hard line on his face smooths out the moment he sees what you’re holding. And then suddenly his face begins paling.

“You—You…” He blinks at the photo, mouth fallen open. 

“Is this…” You speak quietly, suddenly insecure about the entire situation but you still move closer to him, eyes looking up into his and he immediately softens because of your delicate yet unsure expression. “Are we?” 

Jungkook’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he gazes down at you, his eyes growing watery.

“Did we really get married?” You push the frame closer to him, your expression shifting from unsure to pleading. “Did you fall in love with me? Is this real?”

Jungkook’s expression completely crumbles at your questions, “Yes…” His voice cracks, pausing to clear his throat. “We got married…” Then he grows sad, “How wouldn’t this be real?” He asks, weak smile tugging at his lips as he takes the frame from you and he looks down at it.

“I don’t know…” Your heart starts thumping harder, you use every muscle in your face to keep you from smiling. “Maybe since I’m kind of crazy about you…that I photoshopped it or something.” 

Jungkook snorts and you feel your body relax. “Photoshop?” He laughs but his eyes are still watery. “No, no.” He brings the frame to his body like he’s hugging it. “This is very real.”

You can feel the tiny hairs all over your body rise in disbelief. You know how shocking and unreal this all is. But there’s something inside you that feels relieved, pleased and comforted. Because you have felt it in your bones that the connection between you and Jungkook was somehow different and you craved him more than your mind or body could explain.

“I’m married to you?” You stare at the frame in his hands, eyes huge with wonder. “You…this feels crazy.” You say, quietly trying to sort your thoughts. “How do we…” You finally tear your eyes from the frame and look at him. “How do we act now?”

Jungkook’s silence feels like hands wrapped around your throat. 

His body stands tall yet stiff. Fingers gripping the frame like he’s afraid it’ll drop and glass will shatter. Jungkook breaths are bated and you feel your own throat constricting when his silence continues.

“Jungkook?” You murmur his name, voice straying from confidence as insecurity leaks through the one word. 

He flinches. 

After another moment, Jungkook tries to clear his throat and speak but it seems any words he wants to say die somewhere in his chest, along with his heart. “Um,” He still doesn’t lift his eyes to you, avoiding your gaze as he continues to stare down at the frame.

“Jung—“

“—Did you see anything else in the attic?” He asks, voice slightly shaky as he doesn’t rip his eyes from the frame still. “Or was this it?”

“This was it.” You tell him honestly, his gaze finally meeting yours. Perhaps he wanted to catch your own telltale tic when you lie. But you aren’t lying.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, tone much softer. “How is your head? This doesn’t feel real for you, right? This probably might seem crazy.”

“Yes and no.” Your lips manage to form a hesitant smile. “It is crazy because wow, I’m married. But also, it isn’t crazy because even 24 year old me can’t imagine my life ending up this way with anyone else but you.”

Jungkook stares at you with big, doe eyes. A crease forming between his eyebrows as his lips twist, teeth suddenly digging into the flesh when he tries to control his obvious emotions. 

You thought he might be pleased you know but you don’t expect to see his eyes grow teary when they well with uncertainty and longing. 

He had to pretend this relationship didn’t exist between you both. It must have been incredibly hard for him.

“How are you feeling?” You try to step closer to him, but your body is still going through shock despite your mind feeling more at ease. 

Jungkook lightly scoffs at your question, lips twitching when he can’t answer with words. He’s growing more and more unknown to you. This is brand new territory. Jungkook knows you even more than you recall. He knows you differently than you know him. You’ve never experienced a romantic dynamic with him—well, you have, you just don’t remember. 

You eye him carefully, his muscles looking unbearably tense. You walk forward more, hand reaching towards him as you try to gently pry the frame from his hands. “You know you have the real thing in front of you, right?” You innocently tease, smirk on your lips but it gets immediately wiped clean from your face when Jungkook’s shoulders shake a little and he chokes on whatever words have risen to his throat. 

“I…do…” He finally looks at you, the uncertainty and longing now clearly evident on his features. “I miss you.” He whispers.

He doesn’t just miss you, his best friend. No, he misses you, his wife.

“I can imagine this has been hard for you.” Your fingers wrap around his. You’re met with his cold and clammy skin. “Pretending we’re just friends.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his watery eyes blinking back his emotions. “You have no idea.” He tells you, “How fucking hard this is. How hard everything has been.” His voice cracks and he pauses to take a moment to collect himself. 

“Well…” You dart around anxiously, cheeks growing warm. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” You intertwine your fingers now, feeling brave but still so nervous.

Jungkook finally cracks a small smile, “I might not have to pretend there isn’t something between us but it doesn’t mean I can just act like how we used to. This is brand new for you.”

You shake your head quickly, a cute expression that makes Jungkook melt on your face. “I don’t mind, really.”

He laughs, his own head shaking. “It’s not a switch that can get flipped.”

“Fine.” You groan playfully, the atmosphere finally lightening and it seems the invisible fingers around your throat finally let you go. “But I can definitely ask questions now, right? And you’ll give me answers.”

Jungkook’s smile drops a little but he nods, although a bit hesitant.

“I can’t wait, Ribbit.”

~~~

You stare at Jungkook, teasing smile lifting your lips as you watch him awkwardly watch you. “You know, kind of strange that you choose now to not sit too close to me.”

He chuckles, fingers fiddling with one another. “I’ll admit it’s actually a little more nerve wracking.”

“Now that I know we’re…romantically,” You wiggle your brows, “Involved?” 

Jungkook’s cheek burn as he stares you, eyes filled with the same uncertainty and longing you’re beginning to truly pick up on. “Isn’t this weird for you?”

“What’s weird is how far you’re sitting from me, Jungkook.” You point out, “Or should I call you something more cute?” 

“Cute?”

“Mhm. What do I usually call you? Babe? Honey? Sweetheart? Baby?” You’re obviously teasing him. You always imagined he would get this flustered. He is. Even though you both have been married for seven years, it seems he still flushes under your gaze and your words. You love that.

“Just call me Jungkook.” He swallows down his own name, shy smile. “Don’t jump into anything you don’t really understand.”

He says this softly but you know he’s warning you—as gently as possible.

“You’re no fun.” You pout, loving this new dynamic. Well, you aren’t really sure it’s a new dynamic but it’s definitely a new way to tease him. Your best friend who ran home crying when he was a kid. Your best friend who got walked on from previous dates. Your best friend who grew up so incredibly well. 

“I beg to differ.” He smiles at you, “I think you’d describe me as really fun actually.”

“Maybe.” You lean back onto the sofa, “I think I’d think you’re more fun if you sat close to me.”

“And how exactly would that be fun?” He raises a curious brow.

Your eyes shine in amusement before you smirk, “I think you know.” You say slowly making Jungkook roll his eyes, uncontrollable smile on his face. 

“You’re really something.”

“But you like it, right?”

Jungkook meets your eye, serious expressing beginning to shadow his previous mirth. “You have no idea.” He tells you. “I’ll sit closer but let’s have some boundaries, don’t you think?”

You soften, smiling at Jungkook before you answer. “Okay.”

“Alright, I know you’re dying to know how this all began, right? What’s your first question, hm?”

“Hm,” You heart starts dancing in your chest when Jungkook finally scoots closer to you, his warmth suddenly caging you as if his arms were tight around your body. Well, you wish that was the case. “Okay, did something happen at Sana’s wedding? I kind of suspected we might have hooked up? Is that when I confessed?”

Jungkook suddenly looks incredibly amused, some shyness getting replaced with something more lively, “What makes you think you’re the one who confessed first?” He asks you, making your mouth fall open.

“There’s no way it wasn’t me.” You look surprised, “You did first?!”

He starts laughing, you swear you can feel the rumble in his chest just by the sound alone. “No it was definitely you.” 

Your face breaks into a grin, “I fucking knew it.”

“I wasn’t as brave as you.” He grows more tender, eyes filled with so much adoration as he stares at you.

“So…did I confess on Sana’s wedding night?”

“Nope.” He tells you, “Nothing happened that night.”

“What?” You purse your lips, “I was so sure.”

“Well…” He blushes, “Not exactly anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was sort of the night everything changed between us though. Without anything actually changing?”

“I still don’t get it.”

Jungkook bites onto his lower lip, trying to remember how you both described it many years ago. “Everyone was making fun of as usual.” He starts, “And it’s like we both become extremely aware of each other. Openly?”

“Openly?”

“I already knew for a long time how I felt about you but I never made it obvious. There was no change in our dynamic. You had feelings for me too.” Then he smirks, “Just like you do right now, right?”

You conceal a knowing smile, eyes averting his gaze for a moment as you nod your head.

“Anyway, that night it’s like neither of us really hid the fact that we were looking at one another differently. We danced together and it became hard to ignore that something was forming between us without either of us ever saying it.”

“Wow.” You listen intently, “Then what happened?”

“After the wedding, we couldn’t go back to the feeling between us. The platonic feeling. It’s like things suddenly changed,” He pauses, cheeks dusting over more harshly. “It got awkward talking about dates, it got weird when I suddenly got jealous of every other man.” He starts chuckling, shaking his head at the past. “It’s like we couldn’t even hug without feeling so fucking…” 

You smile, hand landing right above his knee. “Then what?”

“One time when we were out, I—out of instinct—had a hand on your lower back, feeling protective I guess.” He shrugs, shy smile. “And you joked with me about how I’m going to scare away any future boyfriend and I still remember the stab I felt to my heart.” He laughs to himself, eyes on your hand. “After the wedding, everything was so different with us. Compliments felt different, touching felt different and I remember one night when I was feeling down you gave me some encouraging pep talk and I kept thinking about how I’ll never know anyone like you again.”

“I’ve always felt that about you.” You admit to him, fingers lightly brushing against his sweatpants. “Even when we first became friends.”

He beams at you, “I know.”

“Oh do you?”

“I know everything in your mind, y/n.” He focuses on your face with a smile. “In fact when you were 25 you were wondering if I was ever going to make a real move on you. Both of us fully aware of the unspoken new dynamic.” He admits with a chuckle, “You told me later that you knew you couldn’t have been imagining the romance between us. Always so intuitive.”

“Love that for me.”

“Anyway, as you guessed…” He touches the material of his sweatpants too, fingers dangerously close to yours. “You came to me and told me how you felt. You,” He silently snorts, “Told me you weren’t worried about ruining our friendship because it’s already changed and you thought you might as well take it into your own hands.”

“Sounds like me.” You look impressed with things that sound real despite the fact it also sounds unreal. 

“I admired you so much. Still do.” His fingers brush against yours every now and then. “I obviously returned your feelings. We started dating immediately.”

“Wow, we move fast, huh? Or maybe it was slow?” Perspective, you guess.

He laughs, “Fast. We moved in together only 8 months after dating and I proposed to you only a year and half into our relationship because we both knew this was forever.” He softens so much, fingers warm against yours, the slow and calculated movements making both of your pulses quicken. 

“Wow…” You stare down at his thigh, feeling silly for getting this excited at fingers barely touching. “I wish I remembered this.”

“Me too.” He says quietly. “I think about my life with you all the time and I wish I could just insert my memories into your head.”

“How was our wedding?” You ask him, “We look nice in the photo.”

“One of the best days of my life.” He looks up finally, his eyes willing yours to look at him as well. “I promise you that.”

“You’re a lot more romantic than I would have assumed.” You crack a smile, “Are we pretty romantic?”

He sighs, smile tugging at his lips. “Crazy for each other. So what do you think?”

You laugh a little bitterly, even when your body tingles in warmth and excitement. “I wish I remembered. I hate that nothing sounds familiar at all. It sounds like you’re reading my diary of future dreams to me.”

“I’d love to see that.” He teases. “But hey,” Suddenly growing more serious, “You will get your memories back.”

You nod, trying your best to convince yourself it’s true. “Yeah.”

“I told you I’m here for you. For all of it. No matter how this turns out, I won’t…” He looks away, visibly gulping. “I won’t ever give up.”

You realize with all this discussion that does feel overwhelming despite how pleasing it is to hear, that no actual words have been said about feelings.

“Jungkook?”

“What is it?” He hums.

“Do you love me?”

Jungkook’s brows pull together, blinking at you like you asked a ridiculous question.

“Do I love you?” His fingers finally grab a hold of yours. “I love you so much, y/n.” His confession almost looks overwhelming for even him.

Your lips lift, a sudden relief flooding your entire body. “You do?”

“Yes.” He gazes into your eyes more intense than before. “Isn’t it so obvious?”

“Tell me about our first kiss.” You request, your hand feeling a little sweaty thanks to nerves.

“Our first…” He releases a long breath, “I asked you. I wanted to take you on a date first but I didn’t really want to wait.” He admits, chuckling. “I kissed you and we didn’t really want to stop.” He looks sheepish now, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you think…” Your heart is hammering against your chest now as heat crawls up all your exposed skin. “If we kissed right now that it could spark something? Memories?”

And for the first time, not completely blinded by the joy you feel, you see obvious confliction cross his eyes.

“No, I don’t think we should.” He pulls his hand away from you, he wipes it on his other pants leg, ridding it of sweat. “Boundaries. Slow. This is new.”

He’s reluctant. You can understand his perspective but you sense there’s something more.

“Okay…” You mumble, “That’s okay.”

He finds your eyes, slight panic when he says, “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t think we should.”

“But what if it helps?” You try to reason with him. Yes, you’d love to kiss him because damn, you’ve been wanting to for a long time. But you also believe it could help. 

He looks antsy in his spot, eyes darting around while both hands rub his sweatpants. “I don’t know. If it’s right.” He says quietly. “I really—”

“—Jungkook, it’s okay. I’m giving you full consent if that’s what you’re worried about.” You put a hand over his, “I’d love to kiss you regardless but I also want to test this theory of mine.”

He deeply sighs out, struggling to look at you again. 

“Please.” You whisper.

He finally tries to relax his body, fully turning his entire form towards you. “Are you really sure?”

You feel touched honestly. He’s so caring and considerate and you’re wildly into him. “I’m sure.”

“Okay…” Jungkook licks the corner of his lips nervously. “Can I lead it?”

“Sure.” You nod, the feeling of a cage door breaking down when millions of butterflies escape inside your stomach, fluttering around making you feel lightheaded. “Yeah…”

Jungkook looks exactly how you’re feeling. 

Uncertain and longing.

Jungkook eyes meet yours and it’s like they’re screaming at you. In excitement? Nerves? Worry? You don’t really know. But you’re sure yours are doing the same. He breathes out, hands suddenly rising towards your face but his fingers only hover over your cheeks. You’re sure he can feel the raging heat radiating off your skin. You swallow hard, heart racing when he moves closer to you.

He continuously licks his lips, fingers finally barely touching your skin and you can feel the comfortable burn from the tips of his fingers, your breath getting caught in your throat at the small touch. 

His space is invading yours, strong tension on both sides colliding with a great force. You can physically feel the heavy, thick air between your bodies. 

You need to breathe.

His fingers cup your jaw more firmly, his skin merging with yours thanks to the heat that has you both melting. His eyes stay low, not able to make contact with yours quite yet as he continues to lean in. He’s moving so slowly, so hesitantly despite how you feel the need he exerts. 

“Jungkook…” You sigh out his name and you feel a bolt of electricity when his eyes snap up and lock with yours. His chest rises and falls and you sense he’s trying to calm his breathing while you’re reminding yourself to breathe.

You know he’s leading but you can’t help it when your hands slide up his chest, fingers splayed out, feeling the drumming of his crazy heart. He releases a shaky breath, eyes going back down to your lips and he leans in more and more. He’s breathing the same small space of air as you. His shaky breaths fanning over your mouth, a reflection of how hard he’s trying to keep it together. 

“Jungkook.” You’re barely audible, eyes closing at the close proximity. 

You want to fall apart. Jungkook’s lips ghost yours, tickling your bottom lip when his barely brushes against it. You want him to meld his lips against yours firmly but he’s so slow and careful, driving you insane. 

“Okay,” He breathes against you.

One of his hands slide behind your neck, surprising you when he urges you forward, your lips perfectly slotting between his and you immediately moan against his mouth, hands firm against his chest when they glide up, your fingers lacing behind his neck, pulling him closer against you. 

Jungkook’s chest pushes against yours, his heavy breaths hard to ignore but somehow you’re only focusing on the feeling between you both. His lips barely disconnect, more shaky breaths before he dives in again, much more force but he’s still so gentle. Little groans in the back of his throat making you ache. 

You know this is new for you. But kissing him already feels so familiar and your body has incredible muscle memory even when your brain lacks it. Your fingers grip the hair at the back of his neck, making Jungkook pull his lips away again, breathing against your mouth heavily. 

You match the pace of his erratic breaths before deciding you’ll lead now. 

You connect your lips but instead of long, firm kisses, you move your mouth against his and he reciprocates instantly. The kisses are slow even though all you feel is urgency. His hands drop from your head and find a comfortable place on your hips, squeezing your sides every time you move them. 

Another squeeze when you whine into his mouth, lips parting and Jungkook’s tongue shyly licks into you. He’s warm and quietly groans when you slip your tongue to caress his. This feels like a man you’ve made out with before. This feels like a man that knows how to kiss you.

But unfortunately no memories get sparked despite how familiar it all is. 

Jungkook’s hands slide up your frame, fingers back on your jaw when he pulls away again, same shaky breaths fanning your skin when he pushes his forehead to yours and sighs deeply. You slowly open your eyes to see how his are slammed shut, a peculiar expression on his face with beads of sweat on his hairline that soak into your own skin.

“Jungkook…” You murmur his name, fingers still tangled in his hair. 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t open his eyes, he doesn’t even move.

He tries to even his breathing…he simply tries to keep himself in one piece. 

With no warning, his hands drop from you altogether and he pulls away from you, a groan leaving his mouth when he leans back into the sofa, eyes still closed. 

You’re breathless, hot, lightheaded and crazy for him. You watch him with careful eyes, but it’s hard for your gaze not to lower to the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. He’s looking defeated, head tilted back, arms weak on either side of him and doing nothing to hide how hard he’s gotten.

After several long moments and he seems to be coming down from some sort of high, he opens his eyes and glances at you. “Anything?” He asks you quietly.

You frown, “No. It’s all familiar though. Good, too.”

He leans forward, nodding at your words. “Okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry, y/n.”

You feel bad for some reason. Guilty that his touch wasn’t enough for the world of memories to return to you. Like his love wasn’t enough. You know that’s not the case but you hope it’s not what he’s thinking.

“I love you too…just so you know.” You tell him, hand on his thigh.

You see how his expression twists, forcing the weakest smile you’ve ever seen as he gives you a nod. “I uh, I’m going to grab some water.” He stands from the sofa, “We should probably call it a night.”

~

It’s 4am and you can’t fall asleep. You’re tossing and turning in your bed—your lonely bed—unable to shut your brain off. Jungkook insisted on remaining on the sofa because boundaries or whatever. You get it. But you also don’t. 

You texted Misuk and Subin letting them know that the cat was out of the bag. You know you’re married to Jungkook and you couldn’t be more pleased with the revelation. There isn’t any response from either of them yet but maybe they went to bed early. You also texted your parents but they did reply almost immediately. Your mom only texting back ‘yes my favorite son in law.’  

After the kiss with Jungkook, you two put on a movie, hoping some tension would disappear between you but no, of course not. Instead it only grew, wrapping your body and pulling you under with little space to breathe. You have a lot to think about. Obviously.

You still need to ask Jungkook about the apartment, what case he’s working on and why Misuk has developed a dislike for him. But also, unfortunately, you’re thinking about the boner he was sporting after kissing you.

You feel hot and bothered at the fact you were able to affect him like after kissing for a couple of minutes. It’s relieving since he affected you just as strongly. You understand why he said the first time you two ever kissed, you both didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop this time either. 

You miss him. Badly. He’s so close but not close enough. Your couch is not your bed. Isn’t it also his bed? Ugh. You’re craving to be close to him, feeling his skin and his warmth. Isn’t he itching to cuddle with you too? Although it’s not something you’re used to but you definitely could get used to it. And fast. 

You roll around in bed, body on one side and then the other but no position feels comfortable enough to relax in. You quietly groan, head banging against the pillows and you know you need to give up. Maybe you just aren’t sleeping tonight. Eyes focused on the ceiling, the moonlight seeps into your bedroom since the blinds are cracked open as it give the walls an illuminating glow. 

You just stare. Stare at nothing. An entire hour passes by and finally, you’re feeling the energy drain from your body. You realize your mind is hardly going wild anymore. Kind of loving that your mind is suddenly blanking as no particular thoughts feel busy in your head. Body feeling heavier and eyes opening and closing more often. You can feel that maybe you will fall asleep tonight. 

You blink lazily, eyes still on the ceiling. You can finally feel sleep trying to pull you under, the moonlight lulling you, a blueish white glow that is dim and—suddenly, the entire room goes dark for a quick, fleeting moment and your entire body jolts up. Heart already pounding, you’re quick to whip your head in the direction of the window because you know a passing shadow when you see one.

Sitting upright in bed, you stare at the window, holding your breath. Did you imagine that? Did someone pass your window? An animal? Maybe it was simply clouds momentarily covering the moon.

No. 

A strange feeling crawls all over your skin, unwanted goosebumps rising. 

A strange feeling that feels fucking familiar. 

You quickly get out of the bed, walking to the window when you peek out of it but there’s nothing around that you can see. You didn’t imagine that, right?

But the strange feeling makes a home within you. 

As if what just happened feels more like a dream than something you just experienced. 

Did you imagine it? Are you remembering something? 

Either way, fuck that.

You quickly close the blinds and step away from the window. Mind suddenly busy all over again. What was that? Did someone walk by your window? Did you even actually see a shadow? Or before falling asleep did you simply begin dreaming already? Or did a memory trying forcing its way out of you…?

You stand still, completely still. Palms growing sweaty because your brain is sending a million signals to your body but you can’t makes sense of even one of them.

You feel anxious. Your chest hurts and if that wasn’t enough, your skull suddenly feels on fire, a terrible ache causing your head to be on the brink of explosion. Your hands go to your face, rubbing your cheeks as you try to relax. What is happening?

You don’t need to think about it. You turn away from your window, feet taking you towards your bedroom door when you decide to wake up Jungkook.

Approaching the living room, you hear your best friend—oh, husband—snoring away on the sofa, an immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips the closer you get.

“Jungkook…” You put a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “Hey.” 

Jungkook takes a minute to stir from his sleep, face all scrunched up as he barely opens one eye. “Hm?” He slowly tries to sit up and get a look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” He questions you softly, a curious look all over his face.

“Jungkook.” You mumble, your anxiety rising uncomfortably. “I feel…” You can’t even finish that sentence without your voice sounding panicked and overwhelmed.

Jungkook’s eyes finally adjust, his expression alert all of the sudden as he reaches for you, urging you to take a seat on the edge of the sofa. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His hands are on either of your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart is racing. Not in excitement. In fear. In fear of what’s real or what isn’t. In fear of dreams, in fear of memories, in fear of reality. “I don’t feel good.” You admit to him, “I feel sick, I think.”

“Sick?” He questions, eyes scanning your face, though it’s dark. “Upset stomach?”

“No,” You swallow hard. “Life.”

Jungkook’s expression turns pained, finally understanding what’s going on here.

“Are you overwhelmed?” He asks you, “Stressed about things?”

“I’m,” You hate the tightness in your chest. “I’m really fucking overwhelmed. My brain isn’t…” Your voice cracks, eyes stinging. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Nothing makes sense to me. This doesn’t make sense to me.” You feel panic settle. “ I don’t know what to do. I feel fucking lost. I’m lost. This doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t—”

“—Hey, hey.” Jungkook’s rubbing your arms, trying to comfort you. “y/n. Look at me. Please look at me.” His hands leave your sides when his thumbs brush right below your eyes. He’s wiping away a few miserable tears you never realized spilled. “I’m here, love. I’m here.” 

“Jungkook…” You reach for him, head falling into his chest. “Nothing makes sense. I don’t make sense. I don’t understand—” Your breaths pick up, “I don’t know, Jungkook. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Fuck,” He sighs, jaw tightening as he rubs your back, staring at the empty space behind your body. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair for you…I’m sorry you had to find out like this—about us—I wish things would—”

“What?” You lift yourself from his chest, teary eyes on his. “You think I’m freaking the fuck out because of us? Jungkook,” You swallow down the burn in your throat, “This news is the only good thing I’m holding on to right now. It’s everything else that fries my fucking brain.” You point a finger at the side of your head.

He looks at you, confusion swirling in his eyes. “This isn’t because of us?”

You shake your head before you wipe at your eyes, “No. This is because every other missing detail in my life. You’re the only,” You lean forward, desperate gaze set on him and he grows so weak at your expression. “You’re the only thing keeping me together. The news about you and me does make sense.”

Audible breaths leave Jungkook’s parted lips, eyes blown wide and the uncertainty and longing becoming the skeleton inside his body and it controls him. His possessed bones pull you closer to him and you quietly gasp when he kisses you. Strong arms wrapped around you, lips pushing against yours and your entire body relaxes in Jungkook’s hold. 

His lips feel so familiar. Like your brain is itching to give you more. But it doesn’t.

He pulls away, his face falling into the crook of your neck and he breathes you in, “Tell me what it is that you need from me, y/n.” 

You don’t really know what to say.

But the answer is more obvious than you realize, “This.” You tell him. “You.”

He inhales a sharp breath, head slightly nodding before he rises from your neck and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. “Okay. I’ll give you this. Me.”

~~~

You stare at your phone, reading over your texts with Misuk and Subin even though they should be here any moment now. They finally replied to you about Jungkook.

Subin 2:14pm

🥹 I’m so glad you’re happy about it! Imagine if you weren’t in love with him yet? Lol that would be a shocker! 

Misuk 2:15pm

👍

Misuk 2:15pm

What all has he told you?

y/n 3:09pm

just some memories about how we got together and stuff

y/n 3:10pm

its kinda the only thing that doesn’t make me feel clueless right now

Subin 3:11pm

That makes sense . Just remember to take it easy, okay?💖

y/n 3:14pm

i know 

y/n 3:14pm

im trying at least 

Misuk 3:21pm

What are you doing after 5 y/n? Maybe me and Subin can swing by for a bit

Subin 3:22pm

Yes please 💕

y/n 3:25pm

really?? Id love that! Yes come over come over!!! Jungkook is off doing things so im home alone right now lol

Misuk 4:02pm

Okay we will be there after 5 then 😀

You exit the group when your finger slides over to Jungkook’s latest text now instead.

Jungkook 5:07pm

What do you think about going on a date tomorrow? 

Jungkook 5:08pm

If you’re up for it. 

Jungkook 5:08pm

But I’d love to have a date with you.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever get used to this new, jittery feeling. The jittery feeling that causes you to smile even without meaning to. 

You look up from your phone when you hear knocking on you front door, excitedly standing to answer because you know it’s Misuk and Subin waiting on the other side. You open the door, welcoming your friends inside your home with a grin.

“Hi.” You sing out and do a little twirl, “Welcome to my humble abode where I live, as a married woman.” 

Subin giggles, her arms wrapping around you tightly in a hug. “Hey.”

Misuk watches you, sighing as she notices your big, genuine smile. 

“Should I order us something to eat?” You gesture towards the living room so you all can sit. “I want to eat a big meal.” You rub your stomach in a cute manner.

Misuk continues to stand at the doorway and you notice she looks deep in thought before she sighs again and cracks a small smile. “You look really happy.” She tells you.

“About some things, yes.” You admit before tugging on her sleeve, “Let’s sit.”

You three find spots on your sofa that you’ve grown to adore while Subin tells you both how Garam wants to go to Italy for a romantic trip, her cute, squealing voice as she gushes about her soon to be husband. You wish you could remember your excitement before getting married.

“You’re so lucky.” You speak softly, “You will have all these wonderful memories of you and Garam and you know, actually remember them. I’m jealous of you!” You laugh, “I’m so excited for you, that you’re getting married soon.”

Subin blinks at you, blush growing on her cheeks as she smiles timidly. “Thank you. But honestly, I was so jealous of you too.” She giggles, “If you think you’re jealous of me, you’d actually be more jealous of you.”

You tilt your head, “Why?”

Misuk chuckles, “Because no one was ever more excited about getting married than you.”

“It’s true.” Subin muses at you, “You were adorable.”

“Oh.” You think about it for a moment. “What was the process like? In a friend’s perspective?”

“What do you mean?” Misuk asks you, “Like, what were you like when you were only engaged? Or what you were like after getting married?”

“Both.” You grin at her, “Did I have a bachelorette?”

Subin snorts cutely, “You had more than just a normal bachelorette.”

“Yeah,” Misuk smiles, eyes going up when she tries to recall the crazy time it was. “It was more like a whole character arc.”

You purse your lips while narrowing your eyes at nothing. “I don’t understand.”

Subin laughs, “You know, most bachelorettes are like a weekend getaway. There might be strippers. Lots of alcohol obviously. Clubs. You know, the basic stuff.”

“You had a bit of a different idea.” Misuk shakes her head, smirk on her lips. “You created an entire monthlong list of things you wanted to do. Spontaneous things. Crazy things. Simple things. Things an unmarried woman would do shamelessly.”

“A month long what now?” You’re trying to think of what the hell could be on this list.

Subin glances at Misuk before questioning her, “It was one thing to do a day for a month right?”

Misuk nods, “Yeah. Ridiculous things.”

“Why?” You question your friends and Subin lights up as she responds.

“You said you wanted to do a bunch of stuff as an individual. Independent. Something personal for you, I guess.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” Misuk answers. “And after you two got married, you guys made a whole new bucket type list that you did together.”

“It was really cute.” Subin chimes in, “But your personal list was great. You did some questionable stuff though.”

“…Like what?” You ask.

“Remember when I told you that you flashed your boobs to some guy?” Misuk smirks again. “That was like day 14 or something.”

“What?” You gasp, “What the hell! I even mentioned it to Jungkook!”

Subin waves you off with a smile, “Don’t worry. Jungkook helped you make the list and he approved of everything on it. He knows everything.” 

Misuk rolls her eyes, “He was even a part of one of the things you had on the list. Which was totally cheating, by the way! You were supposed to write a song.”

“There’s no way I wrote a song.” You snort, not believing that.

“You didn’t.” Misuk deadpans. “Jungkook basically did it for you, that romantic fucker.”

“He wrote a song with me?” You try to control your lips. Don’t fucking smile like you’re a whipped woman in love.

“More like for you.” Misuk tells you, her back meeting the couch cushion when she sighs. “He was like that.”

“I’m glad you know about the marriage.” Subin softens, her pink cheeks shimmering. “It sucked knowing something that you didn’t.”

“Regardless how I feel about Jungkook now…” Misuk mutters quietly, “You do look really happy so I guess I can suck it up for now.” 

You frown, her implication that her feelings for Jungkook now are anything but positive makes you heart sting. “Misuk.”

“I said you look happy and it makes me happy, okay?” A corner of her mouth lifts. “Seeing you like this…well, it’s nice.”

You try to erase the frown on your face. “Thank you.”

“And I got to say…” Misuk crosses her arms over her chest, “I was totally right and I’m kind of glad I’m able to shove it in your face again.”

“Huh?” You glance between her and Subin who just giggles.

“When me and Jungkook broke up.” Misuk reminds you, “I told you it was because, one, we were better off as friends and two, because I knew that the both of you were going to end up together.”

Your jaw drops a little, remembering exactly what she said.

“You were so ridiculous.” She snickers to herself, “All like, ‘oh my god, that won’t happen!’ but it totally did happen. I love being right sometimes.” 

“Well,” you pout, cheeks warming up. “Glad you were right then.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Misuk studies you for a moment. “Oh right, my mom is stopping by in a day or two but it shouldn’t interfere with our girls weekend.”

“Your mom?” You suddenly beam at Misuk. “I would love her forever if she happens to bake her famous blueberry muffins.”

“Lucky for you I mentioned it to her already and she said she would love to make some.” 

“Can you also ask her to bake that chocolate pie?” Subin moans to herself, “I would probably leave Garam if it meant I could fuck that p—“

“Oh my god, Subin.” You gape at the girl while she stares at you dumbfounded.

“What?” She glances at Misuk now, “It’s a really good pie.”

“It really is.” She nods, “Anyway, my mom is only stopping by for a bit so I’m not sure you guys will get to see her but yes, she is bringing desserts.” 

“Hell yeah.” You honestly dream about those muffins. “Can’t wait.”

“So,” Subin bites her lip, something curious and careful about her expression. “How are things with Jungkook since you found the photo?”

“Hm,” You sink into your couch in contentment. “Interesting? Not exactly what I thought of at first.”

“What do you mean?” Misuk raises a brow, “What did you think it would be like?”

“My delusional mind somehow thought that life was like a movie and we were going to fall back in step to married life—you know, the thing I actually know nothing about—and my memories would magically return. You know? etcetera, etcetera.” You shrug even though you know how ridiculous it sounds, smile creeping on your face. “But instead, I still have all my problems. But Jungkook is great. He seems conflicted, for sure.” You admit to your friends as a heavy sigh leaves your mouth. “Obviously because this is new for me and it’s something that has to develop.”

“Right.” Misuk mumbles.

“But it feels good knowing this isn’t one sided for me. That things went somewhere with him.” 

“Yeah.” Subin reaches over to pat your leg, “Things definitely went somewhere.”

“I just know that once my memories return…” You sit more upright again, determined eyes on your best friends. “Life is going to get so much better.”

Subin and Misuk exchange a quick glance and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you ignore it. Subin pats your leg again and you expect her to say something nice as usual but you realize, neither of your friends know what to say.

~

“The park?” You glance around, the grass tall and green, water calm and the breeze just right. “Ah, you did say we come here a lot, right?”

Jungkook reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers and you try to remain cool, calm and collected even though his touch makes you yearn for him.

“Yeah.” He smiles, leading you towards that same pond on the side where the trees are. “Coming here became an escape for us.” He tells you, lifting up the picnic basket in his other hand.

You hum in contentment though you remember not loving this place as much last time you came. “Didn’t you say there’s some bad memories here though?” 

Jungkook gives a stiff nod, “Yes. But…we also have a lot of good memories here. Plus, I think if we create more good memories here,” he looks around with a hopeful expression. “Then the bad ones will eventually lose their power.” 

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t think anything could be that bad.” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer with words, just a low hum but you notice the detachment even though it only last a few seconds before he turns his head and smiles at you.

“So what’s in the basket?” You nudge his shoulder before you both stop in front of one of the trees that looks out over the pond. “A blanket I hope.”

“Of course.” Jungkook smirks at you, “I know you hate how itchy grass feels.” 

“Ah,” You eye him over, impressed. “My husband would know that, huh?”

He snorts, “Even best friend me would know that.”

“Details, details.” 

Jungkook places the basket to the grassy ground, opening it quickly as he pulls a folded blanket out, getting it all ready for you both to sit. Once sitting with crossed legs over the soft material, you watch as Jungkook pulls a few more items out. This basket reminds you of a magic, endless bag of items. 

“Oh.” Your eyes light up. “Sandwiches?” 

“Mhm.” He hands you one before pulling out his own. “And also,” He digs deeper before pulling out an assortment of fruits on a little platter. “Fruit. But we can’t forget,” he sets the fruit tray down before digging back into the basket. This basket really is like a magic bag of endless items. How the hell did this all fit? “This too.” He wiggles his brows when he shows you a box of an assortment of chocolates. 

“This is cute.” You laugh a little, “Are we going to feed each other?” 

“Is that something you’re into?” Jungkook raises an amused brow, “Because you’ve definitely never told me before.”

“Maybe I just never had a chance to discover it.” You tease him, “You know?”

“Sure.” He chuckles, “If you say so.”

“Anyway,” You admire the calm pond, “It’s a date. A first date for me. Aren’t first dates a good place for people to get to know one another, right?”

Jungkook sways into you, while his fingers are busy unwrapping his sandwich. “You want to get to know me?”

You poke his cheek innocently while you ignore your own sandwich for now. “As a lover, yes.”

“As a lover?” He glances at you, “Okay, go ahead.”

You beam at his willingness, “What are you love languages?”

“My love lang—Ah,” He nods, “That’s an online quiz you made me take one time. I don’t remember…maybe it was the quality time one?”

You giggle, “Definitely. You like quality time and my guess is acts of service.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He shrugs cutely.

“Are you affectionate?” You wonder, “Like to a needy degree?”

“Needy degree?” He repeats your words.

“Yeah.” You nod, “I don’t ever recall you being super touchy with anyone you briefly dated in the past. And it’s not like we ever really showed too much obvious affection either.” 

“Ah,” He gets what you mean now. “I might not be super into PDA if that’s what you mean. But in private…well, yes. Any opportunity to touch you, I take it. I love being all over you.” He admits, averting your gaze while he stares out at the pond. “And I really, really like it when you cling to me too. It makes me feel,” His chest rises before releasing a long breath of air. “Makes me feel needed by you. Loved by you. And as stupid as it might sound,” He tries to suppress a smile, eyes still on the water. “I get kind of sad when I can’t hold you whenever I want.”

His words honestly surprise you. You wouldn’t have guessed any of this especially because his touches with you are so scarce even now. How much is he holding back?

“Really?” You’d cling to him right now if he gave you the word. “That sounds like something I might enjoy too.”

Jungkook finally turns his head towards you with an adorable grin on his face, “It is.”

You feel your skin pleasantly burning. “What are some of your favorite married moments with me?”

Jungkook’s smile slightly drops and a frown that’s too cute to take seriously forms on his face, “Why don’t we wait for you to remember too?”

“No,” You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, “I like hearing these kinds of things even if I’m unaware. It kind of gets me excited to see it from my perspective one day.” 

Jungkook studies your serious expression when you lift your face again and gaze at him. “Okay, I can share some things.” His all too cute frown disappears when he smiles again. 

“Perfect.”

“There was this time we were visiting our parents for Christmas, I think it was actually our first Christmas as a married couple now that I think about it…anyway, this might be a bit inappropriate—”

“—Thank goodness, I was hoping you’d say something that might be steamy.”

Jungkook laughs at you, “Inappropriate doesn’t automatically mean sexual, you realize that?”

“Oh so it’s not?”

“No, it is but—”

“—How inappropriate are we talking?” You smirk at him.

“If you’d let me tell my story then you’d find out.” He scolds you, “Anyway, we were walking from your parent’s house to mine, they were all already over there, by the way. You took forever to get ready and it was already dark by the time we walked over. And you remember my old car?”

You eye him suspiciously. “…Yes. The magnet.”

“Yup.” He bites his lip while raising a brow quickly. “You made a comment about how you know there’s a long list of girls that I had in the backseat of that car.”

You roll your eyes.

“It’s not even a long list by the way.” His hand goes to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “But you said and I quote, ‘I wonder if we were actually close in high school, you would have gotten me in the backseat of your car too.’ Which of course just made my imagination run a little wild.” He chuckles, “It almost felt like a fantasy once you said it.” 

“You fantasized about what it would have been like or what?”

“I didn’t really have to rely on my imagination for long.” He admits, voice dipping lower. “I told you that you could easily erase any trace of another girl from that car if you really wanted to.”

Your eyes go wide, “You did not fuck me in that death trap in front of our childhood homes on Christmas.” 

“And if I did?” He challenges you with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t have let you! I became just another girl in your backseat, oh my god.”

Jungkook’s fingers dance across your thigh, his eyes staring down at the little patterns he’s drawing on your jeans. “Don’t worry.” He says quietly, “Only think of you when I remember that car now.”

You act annoyed, but his touch, even through your jeans…feels enticing. “I better be.”

Jungkook chuckles, finally bringing his hand back to his own lap. “Another favorite memory is when you and I got really, and I mean really bored…and we decided to do something we might have liked to do together if we were actually friends as kids.” 

Your lips form an ‘o’ when you clearly look intrigued, “Okay, that sounds pretty cool. What did we do?”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lips spreading super wide as he recalls it. “We made a homemade movie.”

You immediately nudge his shoulder playfully, “Oh my. A homemade movie? Is this steamy too?”

He scrunches his face, “Something we would have liked as kids, y/n.”

Your teasing smile drops, “Oh yeah.”

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, grin reappearing. “It was so bad yet also so good. We made a scary movie in the house. I’m talking about dramatic light flickering, shadowy figures walking by, cabinets opening on their own and of course, the cheesiest dialogue. I still remember my favorite part. ‘who’s there?’” His voice gets high pitched as he starts dramatically looking around him, getting into character, “’whoever you are…” He pauses again as you stare at him completely amused. 

“wait!” He shrieks, you realize the one he’s mocking is your character obviously...a safe assumption. “It got so cold!” He hugs himself, rubbing his arms dramatically. “Are you a…” He snaps his head to the side, brows comically furrowed. “A ghost?!’” His eyes crinkle as he laughs. “And then it cuts to a scene where the lights start flickering nonstop with creepy music in the background but the best part is, you can clearly see my hand in the background, flipping the light switch on and off.” 

You snort when you hear that part, laughter erupting because you can definitely imagine it. 

You and Jungkook laugh with ease, eyes connected and you realize how natural this all feels. How easy it is getting into this new groove with him and you realize it’s probably because your brain, deep down, feels how familiar and well known this all is. Instead of feeling as nervous as you were previously, you realize this is just you and your best friend. But with a more deeply connected and intimate bond.

You really can’t wait to uncover more of that.

“I’m having so much fun with you.” You tell Jungkook with soft eyes. “I can’t believe this is my life for the last nine years.” 

You hope this bliss isn’t too good to be true. Because you clearly see Jungkook’s lips twitch while an odd look flickers in his eyes. He faces forward again, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You know we’ve barely touched our food, right?” He chuckles, the detached look from earlier revisits and you’re wondering what he isn’t telling you. But you choose to be blind because right now, this magic with Jungkook is all you can see.

~

“Home sweet home.” You yawn out as you and Jungkook walk through your front door. You bend down to unbuckle the straps of your shoes, Jungkook’s hand on your hip as he helps keep you balanced. “It’s only after 8, should we watch a movie or something?”

Jungkook hums out cutely while slipping off his own shoes, “I don’t know…I thought maybe the gentleman thing to do would be dropping you off after our date?”

You turn to look behind you, incredulous look on your face. “Yeah, right.” You scoff, “I’d be mad at you if you did that.”

Jungkook laughs, “I know.” 

You drag your feet to the sofa, plopping down onto it with a satisfied sigh, “Come sit with me.”

Jungkook follows behind, sitting right next to you. No awkward distance this time.

“You know,” Your pointer finger taps against his leg as you look at him, “You can bring your stuff here…you don’t have to pretend to live at that shitty apartment anymore.”

Jungkook leans back, eyes on the ceiling instead of looking at you, “You don’t know what it’s uh, what it’s like to live with me so we should probably not jump into that yet.”

“Jungkook,” You stop tapping against his thigh, instead you rest your palm against it. “If it really bothers you that much you can just stay in the guest bed—”

“—No.” He shakes his head, “That’s okay. Seriously it’s okay.”

“Okay…you’ve been sleeping here most nights anyway so I don’t really see the big deal. That apartment isn’t like you at all.” You watch his reactions to your words carefully, “Doesn’t it make you feel uncomfortable to be in there? There’s nothing in that apartment that reflects you…doesn’t that make you feel like you’re staying in a strangers place?”

“It’s fine.” He mumbles and you notice the detachment once again but then he turns his head to look at you, his features turning softer. “That’s how you felt first coming to this house, right?”

Well, yeah. You nod and when he frowns you immediately wave him off with your other hand, “It doesn’t feel like that anymore. Somehow when you’re here it feels way more like home.”

You can tell he tries not to smile at that but his lips betray him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You confirm. “Anyway, my mom said that her and your mom are throwing us a little celebration now that I know about us.” 

Jungkook brows pinch, “They’re doing…what?”

“I don’t know, I think they’re excited that they don’t have to pretend like we aren’t together anymore. You know how our moms are…” You chuckle, “They want any excuse to have a party.”

Jungkook nods though he looks conflicted, “Is that really a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We’re going there next weekend anyway, right? Plus, they wouldn’t listen even if we said we didn’t want it.” 

“Well, that’s true.” He sighs in defeat. “They’re a force when they’re together.”

“Hey, is Pingu still around?” You suddenly look excited. “He’s not still fighting dogs on the streets, right?”

“Pingu?” Jungkook lifts his back off the couch cushion when he leans into you with a curious expression. “Pingu…the cat?”

You nod slowly, “Who else would I be talking about?”

“You remember Pingu?” He glances to the side, gears working in his head. “Or did our moms mention Pingu?”

“No?” You suddenly grow confused. “Why wouldn’t I remember Pingu?”

Jungkook’s face morphs, looking more fixed than before. “y/n…” He meets your eye again before he’s piecing it together. “Mom didn’t adopt Pingu until just a few years ago. I think we had only been married a couple years…but you remember him?” 

Your mouth falls open to speak but suddenly you’re realizing he’s right…you don’t remember Pingu ever existing as a 24 year old so that means… “Holy shit.” Your eyes begin expanding as your mouth falls open further. “I remember Pingu.”

You remember Pingu!

Jungkook mirrors your exact expression, a giant, excitement filled smile starts growing on his face and then he’s grabbing your hands, “y/n, you remember…” Now he’s laughing, pure joy in the sound. “You remember that fucking cat but not our wedding.” He grips your hands tighter, still exuding his excitement. You can’t but laugh too.

“Yes!” You squirm in your spot, completely thrilled. “I do!”

You both relax, excited eyes on each other when you both soften, his thumbs now brushing against your fingers, “That’s amazing.” He speaks much quieter now, front teeth momentarily sinking into his bottom lip as he smiles. “You really remembered something. This is…”

“Good.” You finish, you match his smile with your own. “I remember that damn cat.”

He tilts his head with a benevolent glint in his eyes, “More will come.” He whispers. “The memories, I mean.”

“No matter how insignificant, I’m happy to remember something so normal.” You tell him but Jungkook shoots you an amused grin.

“Insignificant?” He squeezes your hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell my mom you just described her cat like that.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Life is crazy, huh?”

Jungkook’s smile falters but he doesn’t lose the softness on his face, “You have no idea.” 

You pull your hand away from his when you raise a finger and tap the side of your head, “Eh, I might have a clue.” You chuckle. 

Jungkook’s lips tug down, serious eyes on you when he leans closer to you, “Yeah but no matter how crazy…it’s better if we’re together.”

You feel your heart whisper to you in steady, rhythmic beats. Something about its desire to break through your ribcage, falling into your belly with adrenaline pumping in love, in thrill, and into the hands of this man. It wants nothing more than for Jungkook to steal it away.

You take a breath. Eyes focused on him and you don’t blame your heart for feeling this way.

“We are together.” You whisper, your hands going to either sides of his warm face and he nods, looking lost in your touch. Your heart wants to surrender yourself to this man and you are so willing to oblige. As if he wasn’t already the one who owns it. 

“Yeah.” He pulls one of your hands from his face and brings it to his lips, pecking your palm with light, fluttering kisses while he watches you watch him.

“Hey,” You call for him slowly, dreamily, lost in this moment. “How’s…”

“How’s what?” He places one last kiss to your wrist now before lowering your hand.

You suddenly crack a small smile making him eye you curiously.

“How’s our sex life?” You blurt with complete shamelessness.

Jungkook’s eyebrows climb slowly towards his hairline, suddenly looking taken aback before he snorts to himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you asked that.” He shakes his head, “You really…you’re really asking me that?”

You show him a sheepish smile. “Why not? I mean, if you don’t want to tell me…I could always just,” You look around innocently, “You know, find out for myself.” You speak slowly, eyes finding his again.

Jungkook frowns a little, “Not yet.” He swallows, clearly trying to clear his mind from the image of you finding out just how incredible the sex is between you both.

“Are you going to give me another speech on taking things slow?” You tease him.

Jungkook looks pouty, meaning your teasing is successful. “Yes.” He says with a firm nod and furrowed brows. “It isn’t fair for you…I know you in ways you don’t even know that I know. You don’t…I just know you differently. I don’t think it’s fair.”

You release a long puff of air, “You’re the only one who sees it like that, Jungkook.”

“We have to…develop things like it’s the beginning—for now—so please…let’s not rush, you know?”

You chew your lips for a moment before asking, “Did we wait a while back then too?”

Jungkook’s face falls before an embarrassed look flashes across his face, cheeks heating up. He’s so cute, you think. “Um, no. Honestly, we did sleep together the first night.”

You smirk, “Oh really?”

You watch a blush darkens his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” You scoot a little closer to him, leaning your face closer with seductive eyes. “Do you think you could tell me about it?”

Jungkook feels himself drawn closer to you, but he glances away for a second. “Well…we had sex.”

“No, no.” You give him a knowing look. “Can you describe it to me?”

Jungkook releases a shaky breath, lips curved into a small grin. “You want me to describe the night we first had sex?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, “But I want to know the details. From start,” You pause, leaning more forward when your warm breath is at his ear. “To finish.”

He tenses at your close proximity but he doesn’t have it in him to back away, your mouth at his ear, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs with how you’re leaning into him. 

“You want details?” He quietly chuckles, his face feeling hot. “You want to know all the things we did? What I did to you?”

“Mhm.” Your lips graze the shell of his ear, the tickle making his hands act on instinct when he lightly grab your hips, a deep breath leaving his mouth, disappointed his hands moved on their own. “What you did to me…what I did to you.”

“I told you after we first kissed we didn’t want to stop.” He says, voice lower. “I swear I could have just kissed you the entire night,”

“Really?” Your hands slide up to the middle of his thighs, his muscles tense beneath you. 

“Yeah…” He swallows hard, your lips still at his ear when he feels your breaths buzzing around his skin. 

“How did I kiss you, Jungkook?”

He closes his eyes when he feels your lips pressing against his ear. “Um,”

You smile against his ear before you finally pull back a little, your face now just inches from his, his eyes opening again. “When we kissed…did you get as hard as you did the other day?”

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your skin as he lets out a frustrated low groan, “y/n.” He’s warning you.

“What?” You smile. “I’m just wondering how it went, that’s all.”

“You really want to know how that night went?” He asks you, eyes growing darker, maybe heavier.

“You’re right…I should just let you speak, huh?”

“I kissed you,” He begins, “And the moment my mouth was on yours, I felt like I was going to explode. You kissed me back. So fucking needy, did you know that? That you’re needy?”

You stare at him, lip twitching. “I could guess since it’s you.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Mm, you’re right. But do you know how handsy you are too?”

“Was I not handsy enough for you the other night?” You challenge him with a dark gaze. 

He keeps his eyes on you, so focused as his muscles grow more and more tense, your hands still sliding up his thighs. “I won’t answer that.” He says.

“What happened after we made out?” You continue to push the conversation.

Jungkook eyes close, like he’s seeing the vision of it behind his eyelids. His lips part when soft breaths escape. “I kissed you any place you’d let me.”

“I think I’d let you kiss me anywhere.”

He nods, eyes still closed, satisfied smile lifting his lips. “Yeah.”

“So then?”

“I kissed your neck, sucked your skin until you grew impatient with me.”

“Hm,” You watch him carefully, his flushed face making you see the effect on him. You lean forward again, his eyes suddenly opening when your lips attach themselves to the side of his neck. He doesn’t stop you. He only continues.

“I sucked your skin until you were mewling beneath me.” His voice sounds hoarse, eyelids growing heavy again when he feels how you do the same thing to him now. “I kissed down your body, taking your clothes off.”

“Mhm.” You hum against his skin, lips pressing against the side of his neck over and over, fingers pressing deeply into his thighs.

“Fuck,” He groans lowly, “I…touched you everywhere. Feeling you with my hands and my mouth.” He doesn’t realize how his hands that grip your hips are jerking you forward, your body obeying his unintentional commands. “How I tasted you…fucked you with my tongue, my f-fingers.” His hands slide to your lower back, “You felt so tight, y/n. W-Wondered how you’d take my cock.”

You pause the ministrations against his sensitive skin, an intense ache flooding the senses of your core. “And how did I take it?” You breathe heavily against him, “Hm?” Jungkook urges you forward again and before either of you can make sense of it, your knees are on either sides of his thighs, seated in his lap while your chests push up against one another.

“You took me so well…” He looks up into your eyes, a lewdness swirling messily in his dark irises. You bite onto your lip, core barely pressed over the bulge you didn’t get to feel the other night. You keep your hips still though. The aching between your legs only growing stronger at the lack of friction. 

“I hardly fucked you for three minutes before you were creaming my cock, you know that?” 

“Sounds like you knew what you were doing to me.”

“Sounds like you were desperate to have me inside you.” He retorts with a lazy smirk, eyelids half open at this point. 

“Keep telling me.” You softly command, your ass scooting back on his thighs a little so you aren’t sitting directly over his hard length anymore. 

He think you’re being wise.

“I thought we were going to leave it at that but no,” He closes his eyes again. Imagining it. “You crawled over me and took my cock into your mouth. Fuck, you swallowed all of my cum and you—"

You sneak a hand between your bodies, your palm pressing down onto his bulge, making him choke on his words, losing his focus. His eyes remain closed when his brows pull together. 

“Keep going.” You begin rubbing your palm against him, his resolute crumbling when he feels how you touch him over his jeans. It’s not exactly comfortable but it’s fucking relief.

“Um,” He struggles to keep it together. His breaths have grown heavy and erratic, chest rising and falling with each wordless moment that passes.

“Did you like the way I sucked your dick, Jungkook?” You ask him, your core dripping wet just under your pants. 

His tongue pushes against his cheek, trying so hard to focus. The concentrated look on his face makes you so turned on. He’s losing his control, you can tell.

“Your-Your mouth is heaven, love.” He pushes the words out, “Your pussy is too.”

You grind down onto his thighs, unable to keep yourself still anymore. The friction against your clit makes you softly moan above him, your hand pressing harder on the bulge that continues to grow. 

You take the next natural step…other hand going to the band of his jeans, fingers going to the top button when Jungkook, much to his dismay, opens his panicked eyes when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you.

“No,” He breathes out roughly, “We shouldn’t. We can’t…y/n we shouldn’t.”

Even he hates what he’s saying, you can tell.

You remove both of your hands from his body, slight sting to your ego when you nod in understanding. He shakes his head, hating how rejected you look.

“Hey,” His hand goes to your jaw, eyes still coated in lust but he tries to clear the fog. “You have no idea how badly I want to be touched by you. How badly I want to touch you.” He bores into your eyes, “But we can’t. Not now. We…” He looks how you feel. “We just shouldn’t.”

You know he might be right no matter how much you don’t want him to be. You want him so badly in every way possible. But you sigh, smiling for him and he immediately relaxes.

“I get it.” You say, “But just so you know…I don’t doubt that you want me too. I can feel how badly you want me, Jungkook.” You lean down slowly, hesitant because you’re afraid it’ll send the wrong message. But Jungkook closes his eyes the moment he realizes you want to give him a kiss. He accepts it. Kissing you back softly. Well, It seems you’re both needy.

~~~

You and Jungkook sit across from one another at the dining room table, amused glances and smiles getting exchanged by you both while you munch on the lunch he made. After the little accidental fun you had together last night, you both decided to relieve the tension with some movies to distract this feeling between you.

He slept on the sofa like usual. And you got off by yourself in your bedroom with him in your mind when you came. 

You know Misuk is going to be over at any moment. She said her mom did in fact make blueberry muffins and she was going to drop some off to you while they’re still fresh. 

Once you’re done eating, you wash yours and Jungkook’s dishes in the sink when there is knocking on your front door.

“Can you get it? It’s Misuk with the muffins,” You inform Jungkook, he nods in understanding, feet taking him out of the kitchen while you continue to wash the dishes from his cooking. 

In the distance you can hear the door opening and shutting and the slight mumbling of voices. You’re wondering what they’re talking about since they aren’t exactly the best of friends right now. You’re curious but you don’t want to snoop. Besides, they’ll probably be walking in here at any moment.

You’re scrubbing a pan when you feel bothered from the inside out. They are still mumbling in the living area. You won’t snoop.

But well, you want to pretend you aren’t snooping but with your back pressed against the wall and ears on high alert while you try to breathe silently as possible—well, you aren’t sure that this isn’t snooping. Especially because you left the sink water running so it isn’t suspicious.

You try to focus on their voices and you’re definitely making out words.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me, Misuk.” Jungkook grumbles. “But once again, I’ll remind you. These are doctor’s orders.”

“Oh?” Misuk scoffs, “How fucking convenient for you.” 

“Can you keep your voice down?” He obviously scolds her. “Look, it makes sense, okay?”

“How the fuck does it make sense?”

Your hands feel clammy as you listen, concern etching itself onto your face.

“Because I’m the one who it closest to y/n. Obviously I—”

“—Closest?” Misuk spits out the word. “That’s fucking hilarious, Jungkook. ‘Closest’” You can hear how she mocks it, your confusion growing so incredibly strong at their exchanges.

“Misuk—”

“—Closest.” She repeats one last time. “She hasn’t spoken one fucking word to you in two years.”

You feel your blood run cold. Heart completely stopping. 

What does she mean? What does that mean? Two years what? You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in two years? No, that’s not…

“But right,” Misuk lowers her tone even more. “Closest.”

~

Next

[whumble-beeee]

PLEASE GIVE US MORE ON THE SUPER BRANDS!!!! I AM BEGGING WITH MY WHOLE CHEST🙏🙏🙏🙏

SORRY I've been hoarding this ask, I wanted to use it to make the official

'(Un)Official Guide' Official Super Branding Guide!

In this day and age, hero brands are all but normal in our daily lives. Despite the enormous public outcry when the policy to "systemically brand" people came to pass, nowadays it's a very socially accepted and useful tool for law enforcement, as well as the general public, to know the potential dangers of the person they're dealing with.

But how do hero brands work exactly?

Hazardous Super Brand

More colloquially known as the "Villain Brand", this brand is located on the right shoulder blade. Any super with the designation 'Latent Supervillain' or above (all except 'non-threat's) will be required to have this brand. Please refer to the helpful info-graphic below:

*For more information on Power Types, Power Levels, and Social Designations, refer to the ‘Key Information’ section near the end of this post

Power Type: Depending on a super's power type, one of the three sections of the triangle will be filled in, while the other two are left blank. On the rare occasion a super's power falls into two categories, both will be filled in.

Power Level: Scaled 1-5, 1 being the lowest power level and 5 being the highest. One black rectangle will be filled in for each power level.

Social Designation: The three main designations (excluding 'non-threat,' who will not have this brand) are helpfully color coded to be recognizable at a distance: Red for Latent Supervillains, Black for Supervillains, and a Blue background added to a super’s Power Type triangle for designation of Test Subject.

ID number: All super’s are given an ID number, and any super with the Hazardous Super Brand has it helpfully written on their brand.

General Super Brand

More colloquially known as just the "Super Brand," this brand is placed on the right bicep just above the inner elbow, intended to be semi-easily accessible for easy identification by law enforcement. It is administered to every identified super using invisible tattoo ink, so it will not interfere with the super's daily life (except for some slight permanent skin discoloration around the tattoo sight).

There are three tiers to this brand, based around the Super Social Designations:

Non-threat

Latent Supervillain or Supervillain

Test subject

In addition, some supers are prohibited from using their power entirely; there can be many different reasons for this: danger to themself, danger to  society, history of unlawful use of power. In such cases, the General Super Brand will be programmed with special ink to start glowing a bright white light if the super uses their power. Any person who sees a bright glowing arm brand has a civil duty to report it to the police immediately, and are also advised to hide from the dangerous super immediately.

*This brand is mainly meant for quick identification by law enforcement, hence the recent mandate that all people must show their right inner elbow to law enforcement if asked. Disregard the recent allegations that the skin discoloration of the tattoo makes it the invisible ink "all but useless", and that the brands have been the cause of many hate crimes against super-powered individuals. This is all hearsay and the General Super Brand has not been legally proven to be a danger to any super.

Key Information

Power Types

Manipulator– Manipulates the physical world in some way. This includes physical powers such as abilities to interact with physical matter, as well as powers that indirectly affect the physical world, such as healing powers, time manipulation, teleportation, etc. This category is the most common category of super.

Cerebral– Any power that can directly or indirectly manipulate another person’s mind, whether it be thoughts, emotions, intelligence level, etc. This category is the rarest and generally considered the be the most dangerous to another person's well-being, and is also the most common to be prohibited via a glowing General Super Brand.

Anatom– This designation simply denotes that a person’s power affects only themself and no one else, such as a physical change to their body, super eyesight, super self healing, etc. This category mainly serves to assure that anyone interacting with the super need not worry about a power directly affecting their well-being.

Power Levels

Power Level is determined mainly via testing of the super’s power. Power Level can be hard to quantify, but it is mainly measured by two metrics: How much potential it has to disrupt everyday order (regardless of intent to use it as such), and how much it could irreversibly affect a person or object who is not the super themself.

Roughly 70% of the super population will be level 1, 25% will be level 2, 4% will be level 3, 1% will be level 4, and a nearly negligible portion will be level 5.

Any super level 4 or above are not eligible to have the social designation 'non-threat.'

Social Designations:

Non-threat: The majority of supers are given this designation, meaning their power and personality have been evaluated to not be an immediate danger to the public. 

Latent Supervillain: Given to a super who has been evaluated to be a potential danger to the public, but has not committed any power-related crimes. Generally given to supers with affiliation to dangerous groups or ideals, or any super with power level 4 or above.

Supervillain: Given to any super who has been previously or currently convicted for power-related crimes.

Test subject: This special designation is given to any super who has been legally claimed by the government or other appropriate body to use for research purposes. This designation can be given concurrently with any of the other designations. Supers with this designation ahould generally not be away from their prescribed facilities or out in public without a handler.

And that's all the basics! Now you have all the knowledge necessary to be able to identify a super on sight, as well as use their various tattoo brands to understand their powers and the threats they might pose to you! Use this knowledge wisely and stay safe!

[beardedmrbean]

A US hitwoman disguised in a hijab who was foiled when her gun jammed during an attempted murder in Britain is still at large after returning to the US, prosecutors say.

Aimee Betro, 44, was recruited by British father and son Mohammed Nazir, 30, and Mohammed Aslam, 56, to conduct a revenge killing against Aslat Mahamud and his relatives after a 2018 dispute at a jewellery store left the father and son duo injured.

Betro, who is from Milwaukee in Wisconsin, allegedly flew in from Chicago for the contract killing in Acocks Green in Birmingham, on September 7, 2019, after arranging to meet Mahamud’s son, shop owner Sikander Ali, to look at a Volkswagen Golf that the family was selling, Birmingham Crown Court was told, but the attempted shooting did not go to plan.

Dressed in a hijab, Betro “calmly” approached Ali, and pointed a gun at his head, the court heard. However, when she went to pull the trigger, the gun became jammed and Ali fled the scene.

The next morning, Betro allegedly went to Mahamud’s house and opened fire three times, before texting Mahamud: “Stop playing hide and seek” and “Where are you hiding?” the court was told. No one was injured.

Betro allegedly later sent Aslat Mahamud another text saying: “You want to rip me off, you want to be a drug kingpin go look at your house. I will show you. Watch your back. I will be shedding blood soon.”

The 44-year-old is said to have flown back to Chicago two days later and is still believed to be at large in the US, with an international manhunt underway.

If Betro is arrested in the US, it is not clear if she will be extradited to the UK to face possible charges.

Under the US’s extradition treaty with the UK, the UK must prove that a crime has been committed under both US and UK law and provide evidence that shows a “reasonable” demonstration of guilt in order for a US citizen to be extradited to the US.

Social media posts by Betro, reported by The Times, appear to show that she documented her trip to the UK from August to September 2019 in great detail.

In one Instagram post, she appears to talk about visiting her “partner in crime” in Manchester. In another post from the day before the first attempted shooting, Betro is seen posing in a picture with devil horns.

In other posts, she talks about attending the Tranzmission Festival in Crystal Palace, London, and going on a boat tour of the River Thames, it is reported.

During her time in London, she stayed at a number of hotels in Birmingham, Brighton, Derby and Manchester, in one case staying at a Raddison Blue hotel, the court heard.

Betro is not a professional hitwoman. She apparently works as a freelance graphic designer and studied early childhood education at Mid-State Technical College in Wisconsin, graduating in 2005 before going on to work as an administrator for the Milwaukee Brewers baseball team. In 2003, she wrote a letter to her local paper arguing in favour of free birth control for women.

Nazir and Aslam, of Derby, were found guilty of conspiracy to murder last week for their role in the attempted killing.

Nazir was also found guilty of possession of a firearm with intent to cause fear of violence, perverting the course of justice and illegally importing firearms over a plot to bring guns into the country and then blame it on another person to frame them. Aslam was cleared of a firearms offense.

The guilty verdicts were handed down after the court heard that Nazir and Aslam held a grudge against Ali’s family following a violent dispute at his boutique clothing store in Birmingham, in central England, on July 21, 2018.

The violent incident had left Nazir and Aslam injured, with the windows of their shop left smashed and the interior “trashed”.

In order to seek revenge, the pair allegedly flew Betro over from the States to Birmingham to kill Ali and his family.

On September 6, Nazir and Aslam travelled from their home in Derby to Birmingham city centre, with Nazir spending more than two hours in a hotel with Betro–  who ordered a takeaway from Deliveroo – according to prosecutors.

Betro had apparently arranged to meet Ali the next day on the pretense of buying a car.

Birmingham Crown Court heard how Betro – disguised in a hijab – pulled up in a Mercedes before Ali pulled up in an Audi nearby.

Kevin Hegarty KC, prosecuting said: “As he did, the would-be assassin came from the driver’s side of the Mercedes.

“As she left the Mercedes she left the driver’s door open. She walked quite calmly towards Sikander Ali and was pointing a gun at him at head height.

“As she got closer to Sikander Ali he saw her and he saw the gun and she pulled the trigger to fire the gun at him. Mercifully and luckily for him the gun jammed.”

Hegarty said Ali rapidly reversed his car and drove off, while Betro reportedly abandoned her Mercedes nearby – where it was later found by police.

Nazir flew out to America a few days later, a couple of days after Betro, who he put down as his point of contact on travel documentation, but he was arrested after his return to the UK the following month. Aslam was also arrested.

Detective Inspector Matt Marston, from West Midlands Police, said the pair were “determined to take revenge.”

“The lengths they went to in trying to make sure they weren’t implicated in pulling the trigger are immense,” he added.

“However, thanks to some great police work and support from our Derbyshire colleagues we were able to place them firmly in the middle of the attempted murder plot.”

The Independent has contacted the US Department of Justice and the FBI for comment.

The Independent is the world’s most free-thinking news brand, providing global news, commentary and analysis for the independently-minded. We have grown a huge, global readership of independently minded individuals, who value our trusted voice and commitment to positive change. Our mission, making change happen, has never been as important as it is today.

[blueskittlesart]

okay so feel free to delete this message for asking you about TP crimes. but I'm curious if you have any purely aesthetic thoughts about the Link + Zelda designs, as well as the Zora designs, in TP? like how do you feel about the designs on their own, even apart from your distaste for the general atmosphere + story. again feel free to ignore this for TP crimes and no harm done!

yeah ok. disclaimer for those who don't know. i don't like twilight princess and i think the art direction was almost as bad as the story. do not argue with me about this. let's get into it. link first

from a purely character-design standpoint I don't think this design is bad, but I don't think it's all that special either. it's very evocative of oot link, which I'm SURE was intentional based off everything else in the game. it does a decent job of complicating the outfit to the standards of tp's setting without going too overboard in terms of little details. the long hat looks stupid but i understand what they were going for. my biggest critique of the design itself is the desaturated color scheme, which I understand was present in the game at large but. I don't like it. I honestly do think that taking away the vibrance and colorfulness of loz takes a lot of the fun out of it. these games were originally for the NES. we're working off of 8-color pixel graphics. link's tunic should be eye-searingly green no matter how dark and brooding you want his story to be, because without that brightness and vibrance the games cease to feel like loz imo.

anyway. the real PROBLEM with this design, and with most of the art direction in tp, lies in how it was actually handled in-game. twilight princess was a game for the wii & gamecube, released in 2006. while advancements in graphics were GETTING THERE, the models were still relatively low-poly. The franchise had already seen a lot of success working with low-poly models in oot and ww, specifically because they leaned into the limitations of low-poly graphics and went for a more cartoonish, unrendered art style which made the blocky models seem purposefully stylized instead of limiting. twilight princess, however, did a complete 180 with the art direction and decided to attempt to HIDE the low-poly graphics behind over-rendered textures. this combined with the desaturated color palette of the character designs makes everything look very flat and lifeless.

in every close shot of link throughout this game i was constantly distracted by how awful the textures made the model look. the rendered folds of his tunic being slapped onto a flat surface, the rendering in his hair being an obvious coverup for the fact that it's one mass on the model with no physics, etc etc. the textures seldom rendered perfectly smoothly on the wii either, so the painted rendering would be strangely pixelated or blurry compared to the model's sharp edges. the game's lighting also seems to operate entirely in harsh black gradients, making the color and rendering choices on the model all the more obvious. Again, I understand that these are limitations of the medium the devs were working with, but i think that art direction that takes the medium into account and works WITH it instead of AGAINST it is almost always more successful than attempts to cover your ass after the fact, and i think that twilight princess could have been a more visually pleasing game if the art direction hadn't been so focused on covering the flatness of the models with hyper realistic textures.

onto zelda. again, we have a theme here of taking the oot design and overcomplicating it. i think the color choices are better here than they are with link, but i would have liked a brighter pink on her bodice. I also think that the dress's neckline was... pretty obviously a sexualization attempt. there's a reason men love this zelda. imo if they were going to keep oot zelda's shoulder armor they should also have kept the breastplate-ish piece in the middle and the high neckline from that dress. you cant say ooh look shes a swordfighter see she has armor!! and then leave her fucking jugular exposed. no wonder she got possessed by ganon immediately. other than my general complaints with the over-rendering i don't have much else to say about her tho. shes fine

the zora tho... this is where i start to get pissed off. HOW ARE YOU GONNA DESIGN A SPECIES OF FISH PEOPLE BASED ON TROPICAL FUCKING FISH AND THEN REFUSE TO PUT A SINGLE SATURATED COLOR INTO ANY OF THEIR DESIGNS. the way these designs could all be improved by about a hundred percent if you just TURNED UP THE GODDAMN SATURATION. GIVE ME A REAL RED. IM BEGGING. UGGHHHHHHHHHH. i also think the ugly rendering REALLY shows through on these guys because they don't have a lot of detail on them to cover it all up. someone needs to explain to these designers that you don't shade with black. like. god. the designs truly are not bad in terms of like creature design i dont think but they are so DESPERATELY in need of color that it's fucking distracting. color is not your enemy guys please

[reasoningdaily]

As the world braced for the verdict of the Chauvin trial, in Columbus, Ohio, there was another fatal shooting of 16-year-old Black girl named Ma’Khia Bryant. Many who watched the graphic and gut-wrenching bodycam video have decried the officer who deemed it necessary to use lethal force to defuse a physical altercation involving the Black teenager.

When juxtaposing what feels like a never-ending pattern of police brutality against Black people with the treatment of white perpetrators, there is an obvious disparity that highlights the pervasive nature of systemic racism. White gunmen who commit heinous crimes are often treated differently, with police being able to apprehend white suspects and bring them safely into custody.

Three recent examples of this: 21-year-old Dylann Roof, who was safely arrested after entering Emanuel African Methodist Church in Charleston, South Carolina and killing nine people in 2015. What’s even more disturbing is reports that police brought Roof Burger King following his arrest. In 2020, during protests of the shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wisconsin, a 17-year-old gunman, Kyle Rittenhouse, used an AR-15 assault rifle to kill two people and injured a third. Law enforcement apparently offered Rittenhouse and a group of militia members water at some point before the shooting took place.

In March 2021, after a gunman shot and killed eight people, with six of them being Asian, Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office Director of Communications remarked that the shooter was having a “really bad day.” These comments drew public outrage at the humanization of the mass shooter. Black youth aren’t given the opportunity to be humanized, with a number of tragic stories illustrating this.

Over a decade ago, 7-year-old Aiyana Stanley Jones was fatally shot by Detroit police who were looking for a murder suspect. In 2012, the world was gripped by the killing of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin, who was shot by neighborhood watch captain George Zimmerman, who thought Martin looked suspicious. In 2014, a Black youth named Tamir Rice was shot by police. Rice, who was only 12 years old, was thought to be 20 years old. In 2015, a video of McKinney, Texas police officer Eric Casebolt went viral. Casebolt was filmed yelling at Black teenagers and threw one teenage girl to the ground while kneeling on her back. The video sparked rightful outrage at the excessive force used on the young girl.

Examining patterns of police treatment towards Black youth highlights a prominent issue: the adultification bias, which is the phenomenon where adults perceive Black youth as being older than they actually are. When the adultification bias was examined, one study found that Black girls as young as five years old were perceived as being less needing of protection and nurturing, compared to their white counterparts.  

Research indicates that Black boys are perceived as older and less innocent when compared to their white counterparts. “Black boys can be seen as responsible for their actions at an age when white boys still benefit from the assumption that children are essentially innocent,” shared Phillip Atiba Goff, Ph.D., who authored a study examining this phenomenon in more detail. Black girls are treated disparately compared to their white counterparts and are more likely to be seen as older, while having to navigate the combined effects of racism and sexism.

The adultification bias contributes to the continued harm and abuse that Black youth face, not just at the hands of law enforcement, but also in the education system. When Black women and girls are mistreated, harmed and abused, it is less likely to be reported on. The Say Her Name campaign co-founded by scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw was designed to bring greater awareness to this issue.

Disrupting the adultification bias must first begin with awareness that this problem even exists. Despite the wealth of evidence detailing the ways it manifests, greater understanding is necessary. Training about the adultification bias should be mandatory, especially for folks working with and around Black youth populations. Understanding the ways that the adultification bias manifests as well as how to mitigate this type of bias is imperative.

Although research indicates that those who are marginalized are likely to internalize some of the biases and stereotypes about their own identity group, it is likely that having more Black people working with Black youth populations would lessen the occurrence of the adultification bias. One can assume that having experience and exposure to Black youth may increase one’s understanding, and limit the adultification bias from taking place. Resources must be allocated to support education about the adultification bias and how it can be interrupted. Lastly, rather than resorting to punitive measures when dealing with Black youth, we must encourage the learning of de-escalation and conflict resolution strategies.

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 1- A Guard's Comfort

This is a little Dead Dove series I started on AO3. If you want some proper nastiness then look no further lol.

So many different ways to die and to fail your quest in Fear & Hunger… Why not explore a few?

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Noncon, Monster, Monster Biology, Graphic Description, Bodily Fluids, Torture, Blood and Gore, Anal, Gaping, Creampie

A sharp, stabbing sensation jolted you awake. Somewhere behind your knee became sore, then felt as though the fires of the Sulphur Pit were coursing through your blood. You wanted to scream, but the moment you opened your mouth and breathed in the air, you gagged, vomiting uncontrollably as the scent of bodily fluids and decay soured your nose and invaded your mouth. Behind your other knee, the stab from before was mirrored, placed in such a way that it produced pure agony in your body and nearly made you lose control of your bodily functions. 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it. This will kill you, won’t it? The burning has infiltrated every expanse of your body. Every nerve was a light, stinging and throbbing in time to your rapid heart beat as you struggled to not choke on your own vomit or saliva or tears. The sensation of cool, moist air hitting your skin was agony, just as was the pressure that enveloped your hips and the crushing grip around one of your shoulders was, too. 

The cool stone floor beneath you should have provided some relief to the burning sensation that engulfed your body, but it only fanned the flames and twisted it into a purely hellish experience. You were prone on your stomach, you think, unable to lift your head, your arms, your legs- You couldn’t so much as twitch a finger or wiggle a toe! You shifted on the floor, as though something- or someone- pulled you backwards. Again, there is searing pain as the flesh of what might be your rear is grabbed and pulled apart, as though something was inspecting you.

W-What was happening?!  

The monstrosity that felled you earlier had incapacitated you, stinging you with the grotesque appendage that dangled between its leg and filling you with its venom. Every touch would be painful to you, from the most brutal of assaults to the mere whisper of a breath against your ear. It was the design of the monstrous guard, to deliver pain and suffering and terror and humiliation onto any that trespass in the dungeon. And it would be he- and many more- that would punish you for your grave crime. 

You can feel what could be two thumbs press into the outermost rim of your asshole. Your eyes are wide but you can do nothing other than panic and scream internally as you are pulled further apart. Cool air was fire against your sensitive skin as it touched parts of your body that were ill accustomed to such sensations. Tears blinded you and burned as they left a trail that cooled in its wake. 

This isn’t happening, right?

Even in your paralyzed state, your body reacted to the feeling of something thick and sharp pressing against the cleft of your ass. Your core tightened and something inside of you felt like it was lurching forwards, as though you were in a boat rocking in the water and your insides were sloshing around and unable to find their place inside of you. But you weren’t moving and the pressure that you felt threatening to pop past the virgin barrier of your ass made you feel faint and sick to your stomach. 

It won’t fit. It won’t fit- DOESN’T HE UNDERSTAND THIS?! YOU WILL FUCKING DIE-!!!

It wasn’t merely a physical pain that you felt. It was also all the traumas that come with being raped by a monster, in a physical and a moral and spiritual sense. The pain was nearly enough for you to forget the monstrous aspect of your assaulter. The thing that was being forced inside of you was less of a penis and more of a living weapon of some kind. Something made to cause as much lasting pain and damage as possible, both to the body and the mind. 

The first thrust tore you wide open. Blood poured from the splitting wound, wetting your thighs and knees as it pooled underneath you. It was a poor lubricant, as the stinger-dick clung to the skin of your ass cheeks every time the guard pulled his hips back to force even more of his impossible girth inside of your tearing hole. Even as the pain of your body ripping open and your insides being stretched and stabbed couldn’t force a single sound from your set jaw. 

Push

Pull

Push

Pull

It’s a set rhythm as the monster adequately stretches you enough so that he can fuck you as he pleases. He grips your hips so hard that you’re certain that they would shatter under the pressure. Deep in your gut, you feel something being repeatedly stabbed, causing you even more pain and more blood loss that's now soaking most of your prone body. Every thrust, air is trapped inside of you and a noticeable sound is produced every time the guard plunges back inside of you. He pulls free from your asshole, smirking to himself as the hole remains gaping and utterly ruined anus. 

It’s only the beginning… 

With all his weight behind him, he crams himself back inside of you. Almost imperceptibly, you shift and wheeze, body ever so slightly clamping down around him and pulling away as he keeps advancing on you until he’s nearly prone on top of you and his balls are flush against the curve of your ass. 

You’re going to die…

You felt bitter acceptance as the guard continued to rape you. The pain was now all consuming. It hurt so much you almost couldn’t feel anything at all, only a blinding heat and a sting that made you think you’d be split in half from between your legs. Hot breath tickled your ear as the guard snarled and grunted as he laboured. You were a tight fit and one of the best fucks he’s had in ages. It didn’t take much longer for a watery, hot fluid to come squirting out of the stinger’s tip. Perhaps this is what a spider’s prey feels just before their end… A familiar burning sensation spread inside of you and now you truly knew what pain really was. 

Wet fart escaped from around the guard’s mutated cock as he pulled it from your shredded insides. Blood, semen like fluid and feces oozed from your gaping anus. Every breath you took, another rush of liquid would stream from between your legs. It had to be it for you, right? You can’t recover from this and you’ll surely die sooner than later… You wished for death to take you quickly. You are desecrated, humiliated, utterly ruined… 

Relief flooded over you when the guard stood up and left you. The sound of his footsteps on the blood soaked floor echoed, only drowned out by the sound of a metal cell door opening. The shock you experienced began to wane and the searing pain that coursed through your veins began to lessen with each passing second. You thought, for a brief moment, you could feel your fingers. Instead of feeling bitter, you felt hope.

Maybe you wouldn’t die here after all… 

You couldn’t feel your legs but that can come later. If you can crawl you can survive… Maybe. In the midst of your glee, you mistook the sound of footsteps to be moving away from you. It was only when a presence looming over you and a sudden weight over your legs did you realize that another guard had entered your cell. 

No. No, no it can’t continue, right…? A large, rough hand grabbed one of your bruised cheeks and you felt the fleeting hope that had only just budded inside of you immediately wither away and die as a familiarly shaped tool of torture rub against your split and torn asshole. 

For what little remained of your life, you would be used by any guard that could get his hands on you. They would fight over you, as you were one of the most resilient prisoners that they had ever raped in the entirety of their time in the Dungeon of Fear and Hunger. There was no escape for you and you would never see anything outside of the blood and cum and shit stained walls of your tiny cell. 

Ending H- A Guard’s Comfort

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[bullet1ni]

IN Wonderland Ch. 1:

praying can’t save this

pairing: prince!jeongin x female executioner!reader (feat. changbin (and possibly some other idols in the future))

word count: 4k

🔒warnings: heavy violence, graphic scenes, blood, mental illness (if you look), mentions of sex, violent!reader, unstable!reader, wonderland au, just an unnerving vibe in general, mentions of being suicidal, reader eats a lot in one sitting, some science-y things i made up, wonderland au, sci-fi/fantasy au, (edit: i've also decided to classify this as hardcore angst)

author's note: justice for jeongin fics. also, this probably has some mistakes even after fifty billion proofreads and i just wanted to post this already

click here for the series spotify playlist

⚠️!Minors and sensitive readers proceed with caution!⚠️

Please don't copy or repost my work.

click here for the series masterlist

Preview:

As you pushed him away from you, the man gave out a cry of surprise and pain and clutched at his throat. When he pulled his hands away, they were stained dark red. At his throat, a sharp, clean, streak of scarlet where your knife had cut. 

“How dare you speak as if you know an inkling of who I am?”

“Please!” The man before you screamed, writhing uselessly against his restraints. You watched the tears stream down his face in cold detachment. “I’m innocent, I swear! I’ll do anything! No, please-” He choked on a sob as you turned away from him to face the crowded execution hall.

You and the man were standing - well, he was kneeling, you were standing - on a brightly lit flagstone floor. The execution block where the man was cuffed was dead in the center and all around the floor, rows and rows of benches extended up towards the vaulted ceiling, like an arena. These were filled with cheering townsfolk and commoners, screaming and excited for blood. Above the regular seats was the upper level reserved for the Spades, the queen’s gardeners who carefully and painstakingly grew and painted her beloved roses. At the very top were the boxes, where the Diamond courtiers sat on plush velvet couches and were served sweet drinks and dainty pastries from the royal kitchen. But the grandest and most-looked-at sight in the hall besides the execution floor, was the queen’s observation balcony. 

It jutted out of the wall, bringing it closer to the executions than any other seat in the room. Upon it sat the heart-shaped, blood red throne of garnet and gold where the Queen of Hearts sat watching, flanked by a group of Clubs dressed in bright red armor. Your eyes flicked up to the box, watching as the queen and her group of advisors leaned forward, watching the hysterical man with sadistic glee. 

Directing your gaze to the two Clubs who flanked the door leading onto the execution floor, you beckoned with two fingers and they started towards you. Then, glancing up at the queen’s box, you looked at the judge who stood at attention beside the throne and gave an almost imperceptible nod. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Ahem.”

The babble and chatter of several thousand spectators quieted.

“Welcome, citizens of Wonderland. We are gathered here today for a most glorious and sacred occasion. A mission, a duty, of the highest purpose.”

His voice filled the room in a strange way, with an almost tangible presence. This was purposeful, of course; the acoustics of the execution hall were specifically designed to amplify all noise, to add to the atmosphere. The crowd, equal parts impressed and in awe, burst into rapturous applause.

The judge cleared his throat and the crowd quieted down again.

“Before you stands a criminal, guilty of such crimes worthy of death. Treasonous words against her majesty the queen, trespassing amongst her most private quarters...” 

You tuned him out as he droned on. Instead, you turned to the two Clubs who now stood at attention beside you. One of them held a large cushion covered with a silk cloth. You fingered the corner of the silk for a moment as the judge concluded the list of charges.

"And now, I present to you - the Executioner!"

A spotlight fell upon you and you allowed the crowd to take in your figure, clad in red armor and helmet.

You grasped the cloth and tugged it firmly away from the cushion, revealing the axe in a most dramatic fashion. The sudden gleam of silver caused several people in the front rows to clap their hands over their eyes.

The blade of the axe had been polished to perfection so that you could see your warped reflection in the steel. The light reflected off of it was blinding.

At the sight of the weapon, the promise of blood, the crowd burst into the customary cheers and excited applause. Handing the cover to the other guard, you gripped the handle of the axe and lifted it off the cushion. The familiar weight of it settled comfortably in your grip and you felt a surge of powerful satisfaction in your chest.

When you stepped away from the guards and turned to acknowledge the crowd, you were met with a thunderous roar of approval.

“Off with his head! Off with his head!” They crowed. Your face remained passive and you turned away from them, stalking towards the execution block with leisurely, unhurried steps. It was all in the build-up; the suspense was what made the crowd go apeshit.

You stopped beside the silently shaking man and looked down at him with a face void of emotion. 

“Off with his head!”

The crowd roared, louder than ever. You cocked an eyebrow and tilted your head up towards the queen’s balcony. The cheering swelled as she stood up from the throne and walked to the railing. She looked around fondly and gave a dainty little wave.

“Off with his head!”

The noise was deafening, the crowd egging her on. The queen’s painted face spread into a manic grin and she threw her arms open and closed her eyes as if basking in the moment. Then, her eyes flew open and she pointed down at you. You met her frenzied gaze. 

“You hear them!” She bellowed thunderously. “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!” 

And you lifted your arms above your head and swung down on the man in misery and relieved him from it.

There was a thud and a squelch and a crimson spray. The man’s head made an ugly sound against the ground, blood splattering across the flagstones, and the crowd screamed their approval. Without looking behind you, you turned your back on the decapitated body and the head and walked off the floor, silently handing your axe to one of the Clubs. The other one opened the door for you and it swung shut behind you.

The noise was muffled immediately, the effect not unlike that of plunging your head underwater. Blood rushing in your ears, you reveled in the relative quiet and the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls of the tunnel as you made your way out. The tunnel sloped gently and you approached a second set of doors, also flanked by two Clubs. They held the door open for you and you passed by without acknowledging them.

You emerged in the dungeon. It was a dark, dank, moldy-smelling basement. Prisoners squatted or lay in their little cells where they awaited their:

1. trials (maybe)

2. deaths (definitely) The hateful gazes of the prisoners seared into the side of your head as you made your way between the cages towards the exit, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

“Look who it is,” a bald, vicious-looking man leered at you from between his bars. You continued past, ignoring him. “The executioner. 'Tis the fate that awaits us all,” he raised his voice for the other prisoners to hear. “Take a good look. Death at the hands of this child.” The other prisoners growled. “The queen’s champion toy. The prince’s whore.” The other prisoners chuckled. You slowed.

“And that’s all you’ll ever be,” he called after you, sensing weakness. “The queen’s little puppet, and the moment the prince tires of you, you’ll be kicked to the brothels where you belong.” Prisoners roared with laughter.

"Actually," his voice turned mock-thoughtful. "No, not really." His voice lowered and darkened simultaneously. "Not really," he hissed, "because you'd be dead the second that you stepped out of these walls. Killed by the families of all the people that you've killed. It will be a fitting death for you."

You knew inside that you should continue on. You had heard worse accusations from within the castle itself, but coming from a lowly criminal, whom you had never met in your life, assigning you labels and claiming to know you? You allowed yourself this moment of weakness, this crack in your facade. You allowed yourself a little shred of release. Lunging for the man through the bars, you gripped him by his collar and pulled him against them hard enough to leave a bruise on his cheeks. 

“What did you say?” You whispered, dangerously low. You flicked your wrist and a knife fell out of your sleeve and into your hand. The blade ghosted across his neck and landed against his jugular vein.

“That's the way you deserve to die. In shame and without honor, just like all the good men and women you've murdered.” he whispered triumphantly. You shook him violently and he swore as his head was bashed against the bars again. 

“I kill criminals, who committed crimes knowingly. I ought to kill you where you stand.” You watched in satisfaction as the man panted and wriggled at your words.

“You have no idea of the things that I have done to stand here.” Cold fury rose within you, the edges of your vision tinged black. You leaned in close to his ear. “Is that what you think I am? Is that why you think I am here? Because of the prince? I have done things you can only imagine and endured what you cannot even begin to fathom. If you knew even half of the truth…” 

As you pushed him away from you, the man gave out a cry of surprise and pain and clutched at his throat. When he pulled his hands away, they were stained dark red. At his throat, a sharp, clean, streak of scarlet where your knife had cut. 

“How dare you speak as if you know an inkling of who I am?”

In the safety and solace of your quarters, you tore off your red ceremonial armor and chainmail, and the cape embroidered with the Heart coat of arms. They made loud clanking sounds when you dumped them on the floor of your parlor and two maids silently scurried to pick them up. Slumping into one of the plush, heart-shaped chairs, you shut your eyes.

“Camille?” You called out. You heard the quick, pattering footsteps of your lady-in-waiting. 

“My lady!” Came the breathless reply. “Forgive our - forgive my unpreparedness." She stood before you, cowering. "I'll have your training attire prepared quickly.” You opened your eyes. 

“It’s alright. I’m earlier than expected.” You always tried to be as friendly as you possibly could to Camille and the rest of the maids, but there must have been venom in your voice, because she looked at you uncertainly. You cocked an eyebrow and she hurried away into the dressing room. Letting out a long breath, a not-quite-sigh, you pulled off the leather boots on your feet. 

You were braiding your hair when Camille returned. Fingers deftly finishing off your second braid, you stood and took the clothing from her. She gave a slight bow and left. Stripping yourself to your underclothes, you pulled on your training clothing.

A bodysuit in the richest shade of Heart red. It stuck to your skin as if it was part of you, giving you full range of motion. You had been told that the special material regulated body temperature and absorbed sweat.  Laceless leather boots, bleached and dyed to a matching red. You looked dangerous, every part the queen’s champion. 

Turning to leave, you passed the mirror without looking into it. No point. Your own appearance was ingrained into your mind, from the portraits of you in the hallways, from seeing your reflection in the blades of your knives.

“I’m heading to train,” you called out to Camille. Before a response could reach your ears, you were out the door. 

You hated the arena. It was an oasis, it was a prison, it was a nightmare. It smelled of floors scrubbed clean of blood a hundred times over; to no avail, because blood and despair and pain were in the very essence of the place. It was in the air, in the walls, in the racks upon racks of weapons. It was the place where you slowly ruined yourself over the course of years, done things so terrible until you weren’t sure what you were. Certainly not human; certainly not any being with a soul. And then you returned to this place again to drown yourself in sweat and exhaustion - to forget what you were and the blood on your hands.

“Lady y/n.” You snapped your head towards the voice and saw the captain of the Clubs, General Seo Changbin. He had taken over his predecessor’s role as your trainer ever since he was appointed three years ago. Three years and you had never once spoken to him. Only followed his orders, to run faster, jump higher, punch harder. He doubled down on you with no sympathy, but that was alright with you. The more tired you were, the more painful it was, the better. 

Changbin clapped his hands and in marched twelve armored Clubs, each carrying a sword and shield. You turned your head to look at them. They were closely followed by an army of medics carrying stretchers. You counted thirteen in total. You looked back at him.

“Today you will spar these Clubs.” He gestured towards them with his head. “They are twelve of my best. The fight ends when one side is unable to continue. Both sides have permission to draw blood. Arm yourself with weapons of choice.”

You looked carefully at the twelve Clubs for a moment. Not Eights. The number of white Clubs on their breastplates marked them as Tens. You turned and headed into the weapon vault. 

It was a room adjacent to the arena, filled with shelves upon shelves of weapons of all sorts. From standards: knives, spears, bombs, guns, to some that gave you more creative freedom: a rope, tape, a large horseshoe magnet, boxes of matches. 

Knives would work best for this one. The weak spots in the armor were sparse and few and miniscule, because they had been designed by the prince, the greatest mind in all of Wonderland.

You slid two knives into hidden pockets on either side of your hips and several more into the concealed belt sewn into your suit. You picked out the last pair to hold in your hands. After ensuring that all the knives were secure and invisible, you reentered the arena. 

Changbin looked you over once, face as unreadable as ever and gestured you towards the center of the floor where the twelve Clubs were lined up, four rows of three. You approached them and stood at the ready.

“The lady will initiate the fight. Start when you are ready.” Changbin called from the side.

You felt the familiar rush of blood in your ears, drowning out all other feeling. Your muscles relaxed perceptibly and you felt a sudden urge to laugh, like you were high. But you didn’t. You just adjusted your grip on your knives and mentally went over your strategy. Pierce through the weak spots (armpits, backs of the knees, chins), limit their range of motion, then take them out.

One by one.

Easy enough.

You looked at the Clubs. They had not moved. So you started them off, to get a sense of their strategy. You took a step towards them. The effect was instantaneous. They fanned out, quickly surrounding you on all sides, shields up, spears pointing at you.

You waited. 

Finally, you heard a soft, telltale clink from behind you. With lightning reflexes, you whipped around just as a Spade broke rank and lunged towards you.

Thirty minutes later, everything was going well. The medics had carried away nine of the twelve Clubs. There was a long gash on your cheek where a spear had raked you and you were pretty sure some of your ribs had cracked. You had all but two knives left. You set your sights upon a Spade who was limping from a knife in the back of his knee.

You dodged a thrust from his spear and jumped into the air, arms above your head to bring a knife down on him. He lifted his shield above his head and your knife sank into it with a hollow thud. Landing quickly, in the second he let down his guard, you grabbed his spear and shoved the butt as hard as you could into his gut. He lurched backwards with a groan. You pounced, slipping your last knife from the belt you shoved it up into his chin, twisted, and pulled it out. 

He crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath as blood gurgled and dripped from underneath his helmet. 

You whirled around, only to feel a white-hot, searing pain tear through your body from your left side. You turned your head to the side and saw another spade, one that you had stabbed in the arm, holding onto the spear which was now impaling you.

A wave of disappointment washed over you. Stupid, rookie mistake. Always keep track of every hostile. As you mentally berated yourself, the dark, black, agony crashed into you again like a tidal wave. You wobbled and fell to your knees. Your face contorted in pain; you hadn't felt such pain, such blinding, such horrible pain in years. You hadn't done this poorly in years.

The Spade had discarded his shield, which would have been a fatal mistake had you not been preoccupied with the other one. He shoved the spear deeper into your side and you gritted your teeth. The feeling of your body hitting the ground registered vaguely in the back of your mind, the mind-boggling agony being at the forefront of your consciousness. 

You lay there on your back, fighting the black that crept along the sides of your vision. Changbin’s blurry face materialized above you, as icy as ever.

“Abysmal, my lady.” You stared blankly at him. His face betrayed no emotion. Your mind was becoming hazier and so you waited patiently as the pain settled in, until the darkness finally swallowed you.

The first thing you noticed was the tingling. A gentle buzzing sensation throughout your entire body. Then, the exhaustion. It hit you like a truck, and you felt your consciousness almost slip away from you.

With a great effort, your eyes fluttered open.

You were lying in a revival chamber, an invention of the prince’s. It was a glass coffin of sorts, filled with a clear liquid, thicker than water, like syrup. You floated in it, naked, submerged save for your face. The liquid was another invention of the prince’s, an artificial stimulator for your cells, speeding up their life cycles by hundredfolds, that entered the body through the skin. The buzzing sensation was a side effect. 

A medic’s face appeared through the glass, peering down at you, then disappeared again. A moment later, the top of the chamber was opened. You sat up stiffly, and glanced down at your side. The spot where the spear had punctured you was smooth, as pristine as it had been before, if a little sore. 

The medic helped you out of the chamber into a robe, and sat you down on the examination table. She picked up a syringe from a tray.

"My lady, the recovery formula." She held up the syringe.

You held your arm out to her and she jabbed the needle into your arm with expert, robotic motions. You felt some energy returning to your body.

“My lady, we'll ask that you stay in the revival ward for a few more minutes, until the residual stimulator has been absorbed into your skin.” You nodded. “The prince will be arriving shortly to do a short, follow-up examination of your condition. He will release you if all is well. We suggest that you ingest as much food as you can afterwards to help your body recover.” You did not reply.

Of course. Every visit to the revival ward always came with a visit from the prince. It was not procedure for him to personally attend to revivals. Only yours, for some reason that you could not understand. The medic left you to your thoughts.

You had known the prince for your entire life. He was the only other child that had grown up in the castle, the only other person who had even an inkling of understanding what your life was like. Because while you had been forced into becoming the queen’s executioner/personal bodyguard/assassin, the prince’s skill set was a bit different from yours. 

He was a genius. It was discovered when he had turned seven, and shortly thereafter, he proceeded to propel science in Wonderland at an alarmingly quick rate. To say the queen had been delighted was an understatement. He quickly became the middleman between her and her twisted fantasies, unleashing a new level of sadism within her. 

You heard the sound of the door being pushed in, footsteps moving towards you. You looked forward, absolutely still, ignoring him.

At her command, he had created a mutant for her. A group of genetically enhanced people. Her personal guard, the Eights of Clubs. They were all tall, handsome, obedient, with superhuman strength. They were also extremely well-endowed, even unnaturally so, to satisfy the queen’s sexual urges. On many nights, her loud sounds of pleasure filtered through the halls of the castle.

The sound of disposable gloves slapping against skin filled the silent ward.

After his success with the Eights, as they were called, she ordered him to create more. He was given access to all the prisoners, whom he experimented on. He combined them with animal and insect DNA, reversed their aging processes, turned them into monsters.Then when you were twelve, after killing a mutant that had escaped from his lab, the queen had the clever idea of making you fight them for her entertainment. And about then was when your life started becoming what it was today.

The prince moved into your line of sight. He approached you, staring directly into your eyes. You stared back. His tortured yet beautiful face, sharp nose, heart-shaped mouth, his eyes. Desperate eyes, unhinged eyes, I’m-doing-my-best-not-to-cry eyes. He sure did take the pain differently than you did.       

You killed mutant after mutant, not quite animals, not quite people, more like monsters. You noticed nauseously that they seemed to become especially human right before they died. The queen requested methods of death; it became her favorite pastime, coming up with the goriest, most painful methods of death for the mutants. You put on these secret shows for her, but the screams of pain- sometimes yours, sometimes the mutant's- were hard to mask. Rumors formulated and circulated throughout the castle, rumors of your and the prince's involvement in some sort of agreement with the queen. Like this, you and the prince, barely thirteen, were thrust into the cycle.

You and the prince, barely thirteen, were eaten alive by self-disgust and abject horror.

Whereas your coping mechanism turned you into a soulless shell of a person, he didn’t. He simply retreated into his own brain, into his lair of a lab, drowning in his work a little more everyday. Personally, you were of the opinion that he would go mad like his mother. You wondered how he would use you when he did. But for now, he was still able to display emotion in moderation, he was still kind to the best of his ability, he was still alive. 

“Y/N.” It was a curious tone of voice. Soft and flat -  emotionless but gentle.

“Your highness.” You saw your reflection in his eyes. 

“You broke two ribs and practically destroyed your spleen and liver. You suffered a serious concussion. You were in an emergency chamber for several hours, there was so much internal bleeding." His eyes searched yours. "This is getting dangerous.”

“I have full confidence in your abilities and technology, your highness,” you monotoned. “Your genius is unrivaled in this realm and-”

“Y/N, stop.” He cut you off. “Don’t, don’t you start that garbage with me. We're beyond that, you and I.” He puts his thumb and pointer finger several millimeters away from each other.  “You were this close to dying. It wasn't just scrapes like normal!” These emotional displays of his always irritated you to no end.

“Your highness, I’m deeply sorry to have troubled you. I assure you, this will never happen again. It was an unusual mistake on my part, I promise-” You were interrupted again. 

“Y/N,” his voice lowered back to its normal volume. “Y/N, don’t lie. I’m not an idiot. You’re not an idiot. I’ve had you in here far too many times for this to work.” You saw a veil lift momentarily over his eyes. He looked at you, pleading. “I’m asking you to please stop, stop training like this. You’re cutting it too close, I can’t go on like this. You can’t go on like this.”

Something in you snapped quietly. You gave him a look of disgust. 

“Who are you to tell me what the fuck I can or can’t do, Jeongin?” You hissed. Quietly, biting, with eyes narrowed. “You said so yourself, you’ve had me in here so many times before, I’ve never had to put up with your pathetic complaints before. What’s the difference?” His eyes darkened with annoyance. 

“The difference, Y/N, was that you nearly died this time! I didn’t tell anyone, I’m the genius, I’m supposed to know what I’m doing, but this time, I was working in the dark! Blindly! I was praying for you to make it through alive!” His voice rose again.

“Oh, praying were we? Why are you so stressed out about this?” You sneered at him. “What’s it to you whether I make it through alive or not? Maybe I want to die, hmm?” The veil that had lifted from his eyes momentarily seemed to settle down again. 

“It matters because you are a symbol of power to our people, and an important member of the court to my mother. Your death would be catastrophic, politically and within the castle.” He said. He looked at you stubbornly. 

“Don’t you lie to me.” The previous angry fire in your voice had gone out. Now you were only tired. “You only want me alive so you don’t have to be the only one who suffers the way that you do.”

There was no reply from the prince at that. He only backed away a few feet and turned away from you.

“Fine. I will tell General Changbin that all training activities and scheduling must run through me for approval first.” You stared at the back of his head, a multitude of emotion rising to your chest. First anger, then panic, then realization. You knew that allowing this to happen was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But you were tired. So tired. Your body had recently come out of overdrive from recovering from your injuries and you had very little energy. You felt the last shreds of will leave you. 

“Whatever. Suit yourself, Jeongin.”

He turned with his face stony. 

“Now the exam, Y/N.” 

“Fine.”

return to series masterlist//next chapter

okey dokey this was my first writing post, thank you to those who gave it a chance and made it to the end 🤗

feedback+REBLOGS+suggestions+CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM(!) would be very much appreciated :)

btw if someone wants to beta read these for me, send me an ask! or if you have any questions, comments, or anything else!

xoxo

Seren

[blankd]

People are very familiar with how konami utterly fucked the Silent Hill IP and in that vein my personal franchise that "got SH'd" would be Breath of Fire.

Certain fans assigned the 5th game (Dragon Quarter) as being what killed it, but I'll defend that game for being a fairly unique RPG (and good!!) in its own right. I feel like if it came out now, people would appreciate it more.

It's relatively short (if you're fast you can legitimately beat it in <8 hours), brutal (flavor/setting + finite resources, finite enemies) and there's a simplicity to it that people seem to mistake as a problem rather than a choice.

read more of me rambling on about how one mechanic can uniquely define a game

One of the loudest fan criticisms of DQ is that it didn't have the dragon gene mixing/summons people loved and that there was !!only one dragon form!! But I'd say it was a worthy sacrifice for doing more with the dragon mechanics.

Your dragon/"I win" button was strapped to Ryu's/the MC's lifespan- sure you'd get devastating dragon powers, but it would also eventually kill him and could deadlock* your game if you abused it. Even walking around would (slowly) tick up the death counter which generates a good sense of urgency *without* condescending railroading.

As a result of this, DQ features something most of the other BoF games generally lacked, meaningfully dangerous encounters.

Other entries would be more typical random encounters that could be snuffed out or eventually grinded out of being a threat.

Meanwhile DQ has finite enemies (and EXP). Battles would take place on a 1:1 map, terrain, enemies, hazards, and items were retained from the normal map and vice-versa.

The game also cranked up the stakes by having limited hard saves (it required a consumable item), but still allowed you to have a soft save anywhere (the latter would be deleted upon reloading the game). Retaining your progress was always on the line and properly framed the dragon option as a temptation with consequences.

*note: the game wasn't so unfair as to leave you without any recourse, you could get a Restart+ where you carried over some items and EXP from a failed run to start the game over again, but leave it to gamers to puzzle out a way to exploit this courtesy to grind/farm, kudos on figuring it out but newspaper whap for going against the spirit of the game

This sort of decision working mechanically, playerwise, AND as a story point was a unique experience. Most games get bogged down in complexities and convulsion but DQ kept to a simple and sweet execution of "this power comes with a terrible price" and is a stronger experience for you.

As a game designer, the cohesion of story and mechanics is a solid inspiration.

Anyway did you know that there was a BoF 6? It was a mobile game and it shut down in about a year. Yes it is was soulless as it sounds. Yes the art is as bad and generic as it sounds.

---

Bonus Round! BoF Game Rankings + Misc.:

BoF:DQ (in case it was not obvious) is my favorite of the series, it's an RPG I can easily revisit and enjoy, truly a lean game. My ideal remake would tidy up the graphics to be nicer and to tweak some fiddlier bits, but the best I can hope for is a lazy port just because I don't think there are many copies (and more people should play it!). The NA box art is a crime though, horrible, 1000 years dungeon.

BoF 4, I like the overall plot and what it tried to do, there's some dodgy TL but I like the weird dragons and the art. Unfortunately it suffers from being in that PS1-PS2 transitory era and from RPG trappings of the time.

BoF 2 (GBA) has a a soft nostalgia spot in my heart. The TL work was incredibly jank, but is what defined JRPGs for me with its funny little freak party and the whiplash of weird goofy shit and Horror that Just Works.

BoF 3 and 1: I never really got around to properly playing either of these and have no real motivation to fix that.

I actually own the BoF artbook (in Japanese) and if you happen to enjoy them, I rec the the purchase even if you know nothing about the series. It actually contains *art from all 5 games* and having a consolidated timeline for how the art evolved over time is fascinating.

[kishibeshoe]

Requesting 12, 13, & 36!!!! 🤓

Hi Mia my dearest!!! 🥺🤍 I'm so sorry I'm so late to this my life is exhausting atm because of uni but tysm for always asking!!!

12. Phobia

I have a huge phobia of bugs but I am fine with spiders tho. My biggest bug fear is ladybugs and idk how that came to be but I am terrified of those ungodly creatures. They disturb me.

13. Favorite youtuber

I have a lot of great youtubers I love! Mostly really inspiring and calming lifestyle vloggers. I'll name a few here ✨️

- inemuifj (They are a graphic design student and I just love the way they go abt life. It reminds me of when I was still in art school and they inspire me when it comes to art and interests. They got me into sonny angels)

- Alex Bondoc (She is also a lifestyle vlogger and does these uni vlogs. She is so productive and watching her really motivates me to try my best with my life too. Also love the aesthetic and the mindset she has!)

- Dadacafe (She's a Korean vlogger and she makes the most aesthetically pleasing vlogs. I followed her workout routines and I love seeing her cook and live her peaceful life! Very calming and inspiring!! Thats the kind of life I wish to live)

I also watch a lot of true crime and disaster youtubers and I'm very picky with them, if anyone wants recommendations for channels feel free to ask!! I mainly watch vlogs and true crime and anime stuff on YouTube 🤍

36. Childhood confession

Oooooh I suddenly remembered a good confession. I had a lot of temper tantrums as a child (still do, I can't manage emotions fot shit) and I used to play with littlest pet shops a lot. So I had this really cute pet shops keychain that had doggies in a little room that could move if u spinned a little thingie on the keychain. And one day I remember I had a horrible tantrum and I threw the keychain against the wall (I was like 8) and when I saw that it broke I cried even more. I felt so guilty about breaking that innocent keychain. And I still do to this day. I hate breaking things. Things haven't done anything wrong and don't deserve to be broken.

IT WAS THIS EXACT ONE AND THE TOP CLEAR PLASTIC SHATTERED 😭 (the doggy part still worked so it wasn't completely broken)

Also omg the nostalgia I'm getting from looking for this pic. I also found this lipgloss keychain I used to have. Man these toys were great.

Tysm for asking Mia and I hope u have a great day!!! I hope work and life is treating u well, like they should!! 💕💕💕