#like without fail someone is either much bigger or much smaller than i expected

[kandibatz]

its rlly funny that i do not think abt the height differences in spooky month until i actually look and im like WHAT THE FUCK

[intersex-support]

I've started grappling with and trying to accept the idea that I am intersex, and just never knew my whole life. Its so vividly painful. Especially trying to know what it may mean for me being trans. Do you how to deal with intersex related trauma? Its difficult to process because gender dysphoria is a large factors influencing how I feel.

I'll add more context here. I'm amab. I am transfem. I think that I have some form of AIS (either partial or mild, im still figuring that out) the best way I can explain my situation is my 1st puberty was much lesser than lets say a cis man for comparison. My body hair has always been thinner and slow growing, I have always been shorter (5'6), I have a curvy figure. (I fully have wide hips and I'm almost certain I've had very small breast buds ever since I was young. My actual chest has always been a bit bigger) I've had far less muscle than most cis men. I have very feminine facial features and have been told I pass without makeup or anything. For as long as I can remember my ejaculate has always been very clear (I suspect I may be infertile, though I've never gotten it tested) my genitals don't seem to have developed at all of the same rate or in the same way as a cis mans. Mine are smaller compared to others. I suspect they may not have ever "fully grown" so to speak. Im not lacking anything or have anything extra.(sorry for genital talk!) I just feel very lost.

Thank you so much

Hi anon 💜

Dealing with intersex related trauma can be so, so difficult, and I'm glad you reached out. I think based on what you shared about your body and puberty that it makes a lot of sense that you think you might be intersex. Those experiences of having different traits than your peers, or going through puberty in a way that was different than you expected, can be really complicated experiences even if we don't feel negative about our body or those traits. It can be emotionally exhausting when we look back through our childhood and analyze our body and experiences to try to put the pieces together and figure all of it out, so I just want to affirm that it's totally okay if you're feeling lost and overwhelmed right now.

It's okay to take things at whatever pace feels right to you. You're the same person that you've always been, even if now you're figuring out new information about yourself and what that means for you. You don't have to change anything about the way you identify or how you move through the world, but it's okay if you do feel like being intersex is impacting your life in a new way. I know I felt really, really confused and was really lost about how being intersex impacted my gender. I felt like I had failed at something, and didn't know if I could still identify as a trans man because I felt like I had never really been "AFAB," in the first place, and I just didn't know what it could look like to be trans and intersex at the same time. But there really are no rules and no right way to do this. I eventually came to really feel secure in my identity as someone who was both intersex and trans. My dysphoria comes from both places, my intersex body feels natural and right, and my trans identity reflects my experiences of growing up one way and then embracing my transition. There's no right way to think or feel about any of this, but know that there are so many trans and genderqueer intersex people out here and that you are absolutely not alone. You can be both trans and intersex and live as both fully.

It really helped me to talk to other intersex people and explore the intersex community. I know that other intersex people have saved my life-the connection and love I've found in the intersex community is really beautiful. If that's something you're interested in exploring, Interconnect used to be the AIS support group and now runs a support group for all intersex people. And if you send an ask off anon, I can send you a link to our intersex discord if that's something you're interested in.

I think something else that helped me to deal with intersex trauma and the process of intersex discovery was just to give myself permission to take things as slow as I needed to and experience all these feelings without shame. Sorting through my feelings around some intersex trauma took years, and a lot of journaling and talking to intersex people and trying to put words to experiences. I didn't feel proud or like I loved my intersex body for so many years, but being in intersex spaces where people were sharing those feelings was something that was so helpful for me. So whatever your journey looks like-whether you want to seek medical involvement right away, whether you want to go through self reflection, whether you want to jump right into community spaces-any of that is so valid.

And I just want to affirm that it's okay if it all feels incredibly painful right now, and at the same time I really truly believe it will not be this painful forever, and I want you to have access to some of that hope. I felt so terrible about being intersex at first and didn't think I could ever feel okay about it, but day by day it started to feel more natural and beautiful and right, and it started to make more sense the way it fit into my life.

Here's a bunch of random resources in case you're interested:

Intersex Variations Glossary

Intersex Organizations

XOXY memoir about living with AIS

Truly sending so much love and solidarity, and feel free to reach out with any questions, if you just need to vent, if you need help navigating the medical side of things--literally anything.

Best wishes 💜💜💜

[hekatekun]

fuck it, meatbun

ANONYMOUS ASKED: please tell me about your many things to say about the meatbun scene.......

yeah ofc 😋 i'd say it's a similar gag to the self-awareness/self-conscious balls in the rising skit so i'm pulling a lot from that too, and my interpretation of that relies on [great-blaster's translation and analysis] 🙏 a great post

If the balls are personifications of being self-conscious, their sensitivity and awareness to how others perceive them, then the meat buns could be what they contribute to society.

King of NEETs himself, Osomatsu is a Me Myself & I kinda guy in order to survive the way he does. There is no future for him in his head, and he lives in the moment on his animal instincts. Instant gratification (booze, porn, gambling), right here, right now, who cares about anything else. Fun in the sun all day long, but when you realize that's truly all that Osomatsu does, even at the expense of himself and others, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

And to combat the distaste people have for him, he just doesn't care! You'd have to be pretty apathetic to your reputation in order to continue doing what you please - especially when the costs are high.

Interestingly enough, him and Ichimatsu are the only buns who immediately "die" with white eyes when you open them up. Perhaps he's so unpleasant so he can continue doing his own thing, and being expected to do anything worthwhile or meaningful is too much for the eldest.

TLDR: "I dunno if you should eat me, I taste pretty bad, hahaha!"

Expectations, reputation, such things are the bane of the fourth's existence. He wants nothing more than to be accepted and have a social life, but that involves the mortifying ordeal of Being Known. He knows his limits, he can't fake it without insane periods of burnout, so he'd rather be repugnant and ward off other people's attempts at getting to know him. But unlike Osomatsu, instead of having people expect nothing from him, people will now expect Bad Shit as a result of perceiving Ichimatsu.

Which is all of course a cover up for his vulnerability. Hermit tendencies to avoid knowing what someone's initial impression of him is going to amount to. Don't worry, he already knows. And if he puts out the same "bad" into the world that he expects the receive from others, he can be free of its burden (and will fail every single time because he still cares too much).

Without further ado, our space cadet.

Indescribable, unpredictable, everything, nothing. Brimming with an internal, seemingly endless amount of energy, Jyushimatsu is capable of pulling off the impossible. He can fill in any role needed and works well with everyone, but only if you can handle him. If Ichimatsu is “not enough,” then Jyushimatsu is “too much.” He’s a one-man band.

Not to say he isn’t aware, he just possibly doesn’t care. Looking at a bigger picture, or simply not paying attention altogether. He doesn’t bother reining himself in because it’s more fun to be wild, and he has nothing to hide should people try to get close. Though, there’s always consequences to be had for such unadulterated fun.

When he breaks open, his iconic troubled expression pops up. Maybe he’s uncomfortable stepping up to bat and putting that energy to “good use.”

What a surprise: Your vapid tryhards have nothing of substance to provide. Maybe stop putting so much time into your appearance and build a personality, hm? Primping and preening and absolutely nothing to show for it. Even if you figure them out, they still wouldn’t break character for you. Reality can’t touch the uber self-conscious.

great-blaster says that self-awareness should be swapped with self-conscious, the acute form of being intimately self-aware of your social standing. Choromatsu is embarrassed about being a neet with nerdy interests, doesn’t mean he has any intention of letting them truly go.

And if you’re a little smarter about how you impose such feelings on people, you’ll go on to lie, weaponizing such embarrassment. Doesn’t mean you’ll succeed, people can smell slime a mile away.

Karamatu’s is the only one of these 3 that’s on the smaller side and the only 1 of all 6 that’s clear!

Legit transparency! Empty-headedness! Makes sense that he doesn’t have the same type of self-consciousness as the other two, even if he’s just as much talk and no action, you don’t strut like a genuine peacock in public unless you can own up to it. Karamatsu’s appeal is to himself first and foremost, he thinks others who like the same will come along soon enough (and is also maybe too terrified to make the first move). He’s an open book ready for the taking, doesn’t mean he’s got anything to really offer, though. Doesn’t help when you can’t break character and express yourself, either (not that he has the self-awareness to grasp this particular problem anyway).

And I think Chibita summarizes the story’s moral quite well

[celest1all]

jealousy • [d.m]

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!fem!reader

summary: the green eyed monster strikes again.

warning(s): swearing, angst, thinking about hexing/jinxing someone, heart-break, sad, nails digging into palms, anger, crying, badly written.

author's note: okay i didn't expect for this to be as long as it was, i expected it to be a small thing (or smaller than this aha) but here we are. it's angsty, it's sad, it's draco. have fun my lovelies.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

The delightful silence that came with sitting on one of the benches in the hallway of Hogwarts was quickly disrupted by a cold, drawling voice shouting your name.

Closing your Defence Against the Dark Arts book that was currently in your lap, you turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "How wonderful it is to see you again, Malfoy."

You and Draco had been 'friends' since birth. Due to both your families sharing the same Hogwarts house, Slytherin, and that you too were Pureblood, it was written in the stars that the children of the Malfoy's and the [L/N]'s would become friends, or at very least, acquaintances.

Except from the fact that the leading emotion that was between the two of you was an intense hatred, a need to outsmart and prove the other wrong at any chance that seemed to present itself.

"Missed me that much that you had to track me down?" You smirked, crossing your leg one over the other and you leant your chin on your palm. "Or do you need me to help you with your Transfiguration work again?"

Draco clenched his jaw and rolled his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palms. "I'll repeat my last question [L/N], what the hell are you playing at?"

You frowned and shook your head at him, even though the smirk that played upon your lips was still visible. "I have no clue what you're talking about. Please elaborate for those who are unfortunate enough to not be on the same wavelength as the one and only Draco Lucius Malfoy."

The way his name rolled off your tongue further added to the blond's anger, wanting nothing more than to hex you for being such an arse. "Why don't we start with the fact that you told Pansy Parkinson that she shouldn't go out with me because--what was it?" he looked around briefly before staring right into your eyes "oh yeah, because I like to use the Cruciatus Curse on my girlfriends."

Oh. That old chestnut.

"Are we on the same 'wavelength' now?" He cocked his head to the side, still staring at you with his piercing eyes, turning all your insides into ice.

Your hands started to become incredibly sweaty so you wiped them on your skirt before placing the DADA book on the bench beside you. You stood up and faced Draco. "That was just a harmless joke," you lied, swallowing a lump in your throat. "technically it's on her if she believed it."

Draco gritted his teeth, vexation flowing through him quicker than his own blood. His fingers flexed and he resisted the urge to pull out his wand and to jinx you, nothing too serious, just something to make you regret what you had told Parkinson.

Thankfully, he didn't otherwise he wouldn't only have Snape on his back, he would also have your parents and his and he couldn't deal with the mess that came with that.

You quickly glanced down at this arm, not failing to notice the way his fingers were silently itching to go into his robe pocket and whip out his wand. Logically, you knew he wouldn't dare, but then again, this was Draco.

"Okay," you breathed out, making Draco snap his head towards you. "okay fine, I admit it." You ran your fingers through your hair slightly before pinching the bridge of your nose. "I meddled."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "I think you did a bit more than meddle, [L/N]."

"What the fuck do you want me to say?!" You shouted at him, anger getting the better of you. "Yes I lied to Pansy, and yes I know it was a significant thing to lie about, but you can't stand there and act like you're the epitome of innocence."

You had no idea where your little outburst had come from, but you knew it wasn't over yet. "And what's that supposed to mean?" Oh, and there it is; the catalyst.

Eyes boring into his, you said, "Third Year, Potions class." Draco shrugged at you, unsure where you were going with this. "Snape partnered us up to make the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons and you told me -- and I quote -- '[Y/N], if my parents force me to marry when we are older, then I hope that it's you.'"

"I said that?"

Your stomach dropped, did he really not remember? Sure, you were far from nice to the boy, but you couldn't have covered up your feelings for him that well surely.

"Y-Yeah." you cursed yourself for the crack in your voice, "yeah you did."

"What in Merlin's name does this have to do with what you said to Pansy?" Apparently he was still upset with you, understandable really. Looking back, it probably wasn't the best way to go about getting together with Draco, but jealousy's a bitch.

"Do you really not get it?" You asked him, to which he shook his head. "I was fucking jealous!"

Well that definitely confused Draco. Jealous? What reason did you have to be jealous of him? Unless it wasn't him you were jealous of...

"Ever since that damned Potions class I realised that I love you!"

Love. That word frightened Draco more than You-Know-Who, you couldn't possibly love him. No, not at all. That's simply ridiculous.

"You don't love me." He stated.

"And who are you to decide that?" You replied, frowning.

"Because I don't love you." He spat, making you recoil in surprise and hurt. Truthfully, he didn't know whether he loved you. Sure, you spent your early years growing up together and all, but that dynamic changed when you both got to Hogwarts. There was never any lovey-dovey moments, no heart to hearts, nothing. It was just bickering and mere hatred, nothing else. Right?

You felt your heart shatter in two pieces, parts of it digging into your every being, draining any inch happiness that once resided.

Draco saw the pain flash across your face and felt something aswell; guilt. He did that to you. He made you feel that. Even though moments before he was going to jinx or even hex you, this seemed worse. It was worse, and he knew.

Nodding at him, either in embarrassment or just plain devastation, you said "Right. No, of course not."

Once again, Draco saw the instant regret that had adorned your facial structure, regret in telling him your feelings. And he loathed it. "[Y/N],"

"No, it's fine." You swallowed your tears down, looking anywhere but him. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go."

Once you went over the bench you were previously sat and collected your things, you began to leave before Malfoy called your name again. You looked up at him briefly, "Look, don't worry. I'm not going to tell my parents so you don't have to deal with that shit storm and I'll tell Parkinson that I lied."

When you both made eye contact, he recognised the broken remnants of your heart in your eyes. The one he had broken without knowing he even was capable of breaking it. It was only ever his to break and he did.

"Go and get the girl you want, Draco. I'm sure she will be over the moon." You smiled weakly at him before walking past him, the smile dropping instantly, making room for the sobs that had been edging their way out of you.

He heard you, he heard every sob, every hiccup, every heart-breaking cry you made through the Hallway, echoing all the way back to him. And it hurt him. Not only did he tear your heart in millions of pieces like a howler after it was done shouting, but you still managed to be the bigger person.

You always managed to be the bigger person.

Always.

[readyplayerhobi]

Neon Seoul

; Cyberpunk Detective!Jimin x Detective!Reader

; Genre: Angst, smut, slight fluff

; Word Count: 25.7k

; Warnings: Murder, crime scene, discussions of crime and homicide, criminal gang activity, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

; Synopsis: It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important.

You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

; A/N: I enjoyed writing this so much! I hope everyone enjoys it :3 it’s more cinematic style than normal so I hope you stick with it and that it’s fun to read! Please reblog if you enjoyed it and leave me feedback or reviews! Or send me an ask :D Also...I fully admit to not proof-reading this lol sorry about any mistakes!

-

The streets of New Seoul are dark tonight, the only form of lighting coming from the overly bright neon signage that screams for attention on every building. Hundreds of signs for thousands of promises, some real and some as real as the holo advertisements that rise like giants alongside the towers that rise so high, the tips vanish into the smog that hovers like a persistent malaise.

You could get everything your heart desired in 26th century New Seoul; from a warm body to keep you company at night to a quiet contract that would eliminate your foes. Nothing was legal and yet everything was legal. You just had to know the right people who knew the right people who knew the right loopholes.

Maybe it was some quirk in the law that meant they were able to flout their ability to wreak havoc in front of the police, or maybe it was simply that they had enough credits that they had important members of police in their pockets. It didn’t matter. People in this end of New Seoul did the dirty work for the people who lived in those tall towers, the building’s not so much ivory as the old metaphor went but more black with the years of rampant air pollution and dirt.

Moving your gaze from the neon visual assault to the ground, you grimaced slightly as you noted the disgusting street beneath your boots. Puddles of dirty water pooled along the uneven surfaces, filling every crevice they could find and the overwhelming stench of the garbage that had been unceremoniously thrown out of the building’s added to your distaste.

The water here was probably infected with something, it was that dirty. Glancing around the grimy back alley, you inhaled deeply and wrinkled your nose as you instantly regretted it. Even the nasal implants you’d been given once you’d graduated from the police academy struggled to filter out the sheer stench of whatever the hell was lining the streets in those bin liners. 

2621 and yet still, cities couldn’t control the waste system properly. Though what did you expect, given New Seoul hosted a population of over 75 million right now. Millions upon millions of people, crammed into the Mega City that had sprawled across the land slowly, swallowing up the smaller cities that stood in its path and obliterating the towns and villages.

You could travel for hours in either direction from here and still be in this godforsaken city. Sighing deeply, you heard a sudden gurgling to your left, the sound quiet yet instantly notable to your enhanced hearing over the quiet sound of investigatory conversation. A quick look over has you almost gagging, spotting a sewer grate that was bubbling to itself happily, as if it was some sweet brook with clean and crisp flowing water in a forest somewhere instead of the pure sewage it was spilling.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Can someone sort out the fucking sewer problem before it contaminates even more of the fucking crime scene?” You spat out, anger flowing through your veins as you gazed at the grate. It was almost mesmerising, in a completely disgusting way, how the water was so brown and thick that it almost struggled to flow. 

Turning away, you tried hard to control your gag reflex. It would not do for the senior detective on the investigation to vomit on the crime scene and contaminate it. Not only because you’d just complained over the sewer for that but also because it would just be fucking embarrassing.

The small alley was particularly dark compared to the rest of the city, the signage that was so prominent only really visible from the ends that led out into the bigger streets. No one would really bother wasting the money or time on a shitty alley like this. Literally, a shitty alley apparently.

There was still prominent neon though, only in the form of the holographic police barriers that had been erected, warning the public of an open crime scene. The yellow barriers hummed ever so slightly as you stood near it, the signage changing repeatedly from ‘POLICE’ to ‘CRIME SCENE’ to ‘PLEASE STAY BACK’. There were a few other messages in there but you’d seen them enough times to not even really notice anymore.

A few curious members of the public, whether they were residents of the buildings surrounding you or simple vagrants who called this alley home, and the idea of that made your stomach lurch, were stood just past the barriers. They wouldn’t come close to it. The only reason the barrier hummed was because it was being powered by a generator, the holographic barrier’s capable of accessing a person’s chip ID that resided in their neck.

If they were listed as being an active member of the police force, or other emergency services, then they were allowed through. If they were not...well, let’s just say it hurt. 

A hovercar landed at the end of the alley, the sound soft as it descended but becoming loud and prominent the closer to the ground it got. Safety precautions meant they couldn’t just make it completely silent. That was the quickest way to flatten some kid or idiot. Though in fairness, there were plenty of people you could think of that you wouldn’t mind getting flattened.

Still though, the tall figure climbing out of it was expected, hence why you were currently still standing outside of the crime scene instead of in it. The idiot was late, as usual. Probably spending his evening fucking some synth in the pleasure house near his apartment. There was nothing wrong with that obviously, you engaged in the services of the synthetic androids yourself, but it gurgled in the pit of your stomach that he’d chosen to stick his dick in one of those instead of you.

You’d like to say he didn’t know your feelings, but you knew he did. He hadn’t made it to detective without actually having some deducting skills, and you weren’t exactly being shy about wanting him. In fairness, no one was shy about wanting him. Detective Park Jimin was indeed a delectable specimen of a human male.

Walking closer, you heard the careful thudding of his black boots on the dirty cement, the two inch thick soles giving him even more height above you despite the fact that he wore the same police issue boots you did. Metal was firmly embedded in the toes of them, allowing you to kick the shit out of anything you needed to without harming your feet.

It just made him look more attractive though. The fronts of those boots laced up high, far past his ankle and tight black trousers clung to his beautiful thighs. You’d fantasised about those thighs many times in many different ways. A belt with an assortment of holders sat prettily around that thin waist of his, his gun holstered firmly while other important items such as a torch and so forth were also firmly put away.

A black shirt that shifted colour ever so slightly to give it an intriguing metallic look was covered by his usual black coat, the long leather that reached his knees adorned with an abundance of pockets and metal, the buttons in odd places while the coat itself was covered with silver symbols and illustrations that glowed, sinuously flowing from one symbol into another as he moved. The collar of his jacket was high, hiding the outline of his jaw as he walked up to you.

You could barely make out Jimin’s face in the darkness of the alley as he approached, the only thing visible at the moment was the vivid, glowing blue tips of his hair, shifting slightly in the breeze. He’d chosen over the last few months to grow out his luxurious black hair, the look makin him particularly rugged as he constantly looked like he’d just had the wildest sex. On top of that, he’d had the ends of his hair dyed with a cybernetic pigment which resulted in the unnatural neon glow, the tips already shifting colour from blue to a smooth purple. 

It looked good on him, and you most definitely approved. Not that he’d give a shit.

Finally he stood before you, a deep sigh leaving him as the yellow lighting of the barrier finally lit up his face for you. It gave him an oddly yellow cast, making his skin look sallow and unwell but you couldn’t deny that he was still beautiful.

Black geometric tattoos crawled up from beneath his shirt and coat, making their way up his strong neck with the right side creeping up his face as well. A swirl of thick black was painted up the side of his cheek, directly where his jawline met his ear and hairline before it burst into smaller lines, curling almost elegantly above his brow. It was one of the prettier facial tattoos you’d seen, and you weren’t sure saying that because it was him.

A black metal piercing studded the centre of the skin below his plush, pink lower lip. Besides from the abundance of piercings in his ears, that was the only other piercing you believe that he had. His left eye, under actual lighting, was it’s natural deep brown whereas his right eye was a cybernetic augmentation, the iris a highly unnatural vivid, neon pink that often bordered on magenta. 

He’d received the augmentation, along with a cybernetic arm, after an arrest had gone severely wrong when the suspect had detonated a homemade explosive, resulting him losing his natural eye along with also losing his right arm at the same time. It came in useful for him as it gave him access to the police database on the go, along with being able to identify people and record incidents with certain muscle movements. And that was to say nothing of the benefits the artificial arm gave him.

“You’re late.” You say shortly, looking up at your partner with an imperious eye as you drag your gaze down his body. He doesn’t look like he’d been interrupted mid-coitus, but you never knew with him. Jimin always liked to look prim and proper.

“Some people actually fucking sleep. Given it’s 3 in the morning, you know.” Rolling your eyes, you gestured for him to enter the crime scene and pulled a face at his back once he’d passed. You had a reputation to keep up, and that didn’t involve letting him see you being childish. Though you were, and he was probably well aware of that after five years of working together.

As Jimin passed through the barrier, the back of his coat immediately lit up with holographic text in bright blue, proclaiming ‘POLICE’. The same would have happened for you when you moved through the barrier as well, letting everyone inside know that Jimin and you were the investigative unit.

“So what is it? A junker? Sex worker? Some rando on the street?” He asked, standing over the top of the body. Almost immediately, it was clear to see that all of his queries were incorrect. The male on the floor was wearing fabric that was top of the range, a style that normally would be shifting patterns and colours. His dead body wasn’t producing the electricity required to power it anymore though, so it just looked like a very nice black button up right now.

Still, it was clear his outfit cost money. From the style to the fabric to even the design. It was only what those who could afford could wear. In fact, the victim’s clothing probably cost more than this whole street made in a week. On top of that, the old style wristwatch, an actual watch that ticked and told time and everything, looked to be ancient and the brand made your brows rise. 

That alone would pay your apartment’s rent for a year probably.

“No. Victim is Kim Namjoon. Son of Kim Minhyuk and Seo Jihyo. Yes...that Kim Minhyuk.” You said when Jimin’s brows rose as he looked at you sharply, his eyes narrowing until all you could see was a sliver of brown and pink.

“The fuck was the son of the mayor doing in this shithole? And not just this shithole, but this literal, particular shithole. I highly doubt the towers would want to spend their time here. I mean sure, idiots like this one might come to this part of the city as a dare or just for a wild night. But there’s nothing around here but residential buildings?” Jimin speculated, brow creasing as he poked his cheek with his tongue.

“You’re wrong, on a few things. First of all, towers,” You used the lower city slang for the rich and powerful who spent their lives in the towers that reached beyond the smog that hovered over New Seoul. “Are surprisingly common around here. You’re right in that they’re normally here just for a night on the rough side of town, but they’re not rare. And this isn't at all residential. There’s an underground casino just down the road. I have it on good authority that he was there.”

“The fuck? How do you know that? You don’t live here. And if you know where he was then what are we doing here? You obviously know how he died.” Jimin scoffs, leaning over to examine the victim’s corpse carefully. Grinding your teeth, you inhale deeply before letting it out slowly.

“Okay Park. Firstly, you too know how he died. It’s pretty obvious given, you know, the laser shot to his forehead. I’ve yet to encounter anyone who can withstand one of those. And secondly, I know because he wasn’t alone,” You gesture down the other end of the alley where another hovercar is parked, the door open and an elegant man sat in it. A few officers stood around, keeping watch.

“What? Who is he? Why aren’t we arresting him and questioning him?” He goes to start walking down the alley, his face grim and you grab his arm, pulling him to a firm halt. When he’s facing you, you gesture down to the Crime Scene Analyst currently crouched over the body.

“Jeon, what’ve you got for us. Please inform Detective Park here why it’s impossible his friend was the culprit.” Wide, dark eyes look up from beneath thick, curly black hair, a piercing cutting through one of the strong black brows on his forehead. Officer Jeon Jungkook had been a CSA for the New Seoul PD for over six years now and he knew what he was doing. Thankfully, that meant Jimin trusted him too.

The CSA stands, towering over both you and Jimin before he taps a metal circle implanted into his hand. A holographic simulation of the alley begins to glow above his hand in white, Kim Namjoon’s body outlined in violet. Other areas are red and you look around to try and identify those areas.

Jungkook’s eyes are the only thing visible about his face, the lower half covered in a black mask with two air filters poking out of the side. It was standard crime scene procedure for him, but you knew he enjoyed wearing it anyway. Long hair that was half wet curls around his face while his own black leather coat is equally covered in glittering silver outlines and illustrations. Black piercings liberally dot his ears, including a piercing at the upper shell of his ear with a slim black chain that connects to a piercing on his ear lobe. 

His hands are ungloved and you can see the start of black tattoos winding around his wrist. He was another one who was ungodly attractive, and it was made even worse by the fact that it was all natural. You’d known Jeon Jungkook since he’d joined the police academy at the fresh age of 18, his skin untouched at the time.

All that had happened over the years had been a careful refinement of already pretty features, solely from age and maturity. You realise that you’re too busy admiring the CSA when Jimin elbows you, not even the slightest bit subtly either. Glaring at him, you note his narrowed eyes and roll you own in response.

“The victim was killed with a single laser shot to the forehead, as Detective Y/L/N said. It was point blank range with the suspect wearing a size 11 boot. The treadmark indicates it was most likely either a Villainous or Pandemic boot, though I will need to do more in depth research to give you a more accurate reading. Mr Kim Seokjin, the witness over there, was standing behind the victim and to the right. He grabbed the victim as he fell, there’s DNA evidence on the victims shoulders. It’s impossible for him to have been the one to be the suspect. The witnesses' footprints come from that end of the alley and stop there, behind the victim. They never move around to the front. The other footprints come from the other end, stop in the front of the victim and make their way back.” He gives the report briskly, making sure to only include information that he can back up with evidence.

As he talks, he generates holographic figures on the street simulation, their feet matching the glowing red imprints. Kim Seokjin is in green, his own footprints backing up Jungkook’s words while the suspect is in red, walking in and taking out the victim with ease.

Humming lightly, you run your finger over your lip before glancing over at Jimin. “This...I know we’re not meant to make a speculation here but...a tower? In this area? In this alley? Getting murdered like this?”

“You mean the fact that this is the most blatant case of a hit killing you’ve ever seen? Yeah, I get you. That looks like the movements of an expert killer there. And there's clear motive behind it, even if we don’t know what that is right now. Mayor Kim isn’t exactly popular nowadays and he’s made plenty of enemies throughout the years. Some legitimate and some simply because he’s a person in power. Hitting him through his son is a clear and easy way to get to him.” Jimin muses to himself quietly, though you’re thankful he lets you into his mindset as well. 

After all, you are his partner.

“Maybe. We can’t rule anything out, you know that,” Looking at Jungkook, you point towards the body on the alley ground. “Jeon, can you make sure we get a full autopsy report? I want to make sure that we have all grounds covered. This is going to blow up with the towers, you know that.” 

The CSA nods once, the movement brisk. He turns away from you, noting something down on his holo report that has replaced the visual of the alley he’d been showing you both. Taking a deep breath, you make a face as the overwhelming scent hits you once more before looking at Jimin.

“Come on, let’s take the witness back to the station. I don’t think he’s going to give us a very good statement right now with his best friend lying dead on the alley. I think a change of scenery will probably do him some good, right?” Jimin is still looking around the alley slowly, almost as if he’s trying to find more evidence.

You don’t push him not to though, letting him spend as much time as he wants observing the scene of the crime. As good as Jungkook’s skills were, sometimes the CSA missed something. But you don’t have to wait long though as soon enough, Jimin is striding up to you with a neutral expression on his pretty face.

“I don’t think there’s anything else here for us to look at. We’ll have to wait for the report later but I think Jungkook’s found near enough everything already. Let’s go talk to our witness.”

-

The room that Kim Seokjin was being brought into had luxuriously soft couches and armchairs spread throughout along with low, black glass coffee tables. The walls were covered in old style photographs, the scenes portrayed of vistas that had died centuries ago. Instead of the customary vending machine with its nauseously bright holo-screen, there was a fancy machine in solid black, the options available on a touch screen that could be activated.

“So this is what seniority gets you, huh?” Jimin asks with a snort, his gaze tracking around the room slowly just as yours was. This was the break room for the senior members of the police department, those who had spent years working their way up the chain of command. Or working their way up something.

You could never be sure who had earnt their rank through genuine means and who just worked their way through the people they knew to get their ranking. The chief was certainly one of those who was in his place only because he was well acquainted with the powerful people in New Seoul.

So unsurprisingly, this break room looked nothing like the room that you and your fellow officers frequented when time allowed. Your room was filled with couches whose cushions had lost their softness long ago, the plastic creaking and breaking while chips and gashes abounded. And you didn’t even want to talk about the stains.

Understandable that they didn’t want Kim Seokjin interviewed there given his status, though why he was being interviewed anywhere outside of an actual interview room. Although even then, you realise why that’s the case. Those rooms are just cement squares with a metal table in the middle, not exactly the kind of place you interview such a high class witness.

“I think we should raid the vender, imagine what kinda high class shit they’ve got in here.” You whisper to him, smirking as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. Jimin gives a small life before nodding with a smile, turning to welcome the newcomer who has entered the room, waving off the officer who’d brought Kim Seokjin in.

“Hello, I’m Detective Park and this is Detective Y/L/N. Would you like something to drink? Or maybe something to eat before we get started? I would recommend something for you, you’re probably experiencing shock and we want to make you as comfortable as possible.” Jimin says, his voice incredibly diplomatic as he smiles a welcome to Kim Seokjin.

He sits at Jimin’s request, giving an awkward smile that doesn’t look remotely genuine. But the hollowness and shock behind his eyes tells you why and you feel sympathy bloom within you. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin’s words obviously filter through and he nods slowly.

“Yes, please, thank you. Just...a tea. Please. Hot.” Nodding yourself, you input the request into the machine before adding your own requests as well. Everything is produced onto a useful, clear plastic tray and you take it over before placing it on the low table with a gentle smile.

You’d got yourself a glass of water and Jimin his usual energy drink, the can’s design changing every few seconds to some new holo picture of some extreme sport. There’s also a simple glazed doughnut on a small plate, causing Seokjin to frown in confusion.

“The sugar will help with the shock. And it’ll help you to feel a little more stable.” Seokjin looks down at the baked good blankly before nodding, giving a small thanks before taking a bite. It’s not big, and he seems to chew almost mechanically.

“Please accept our apologies for what’s happened Mr Kim, we can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through.” Jimin says, his voice low with compassion for the traumatised witness in front of him. Despite your partner's sarcasm, he’s always been good with the witnesses.

“Now, I don’t want this to sound callous but we’d like to get what you witnessed down on record as soon as possible, while it’s still...fresh.” You say gently, a compassionate smile painting itself on your face when you see the fresh pain in Seokjin’s eyes. He nods in acknowledgement and you press the band on your wrist, inputting a few details into the holoscreen before setting up the audio and visual recorder.

“This is Detective Y/L/N Y/N and Detective Park Jimin, Case 619-219-325. Interview with witness, Kim Seokjin. Mr Kim, for the purpose of the record, I will read you your rights, you are not under arrest or suspicion at this time.” You go on to read him his rights, the standard procedure for any interview nowadays and are relieved when he simply nods.

Some witnesses got angry, thinking they were a suspect suddenly, but it was standard operating protocol for the New Seoul Police Department. Jimin took over for you as soon as you’d finished.

“Can you please tell us what happened tonight? Start from a few hours beforehand if possible, lead us up to the moment when it happened. Try and remember as much as you can but don’t worry if you can’t.”

Seokjin nods slowly, taking a deep swallow of tea before letting out a breath and continuing.

“Namjoon had spent the day shadowing his dad and wanted to blow off some steam. He’s not normally the one to ask that so I suggested we…” He looks embarrassedly at you both. “I suggested that we go slumming. I’m sure you know what that means. We’ve done it before, frequently enough that we have favourite places. So we headed to a club a few blocks from our tower to start out, had a few drinks there with our mutual friend, Min Yoongi. Yoongi told us about this new casino that had opened in the city. It was...in one of the more shady areas of town, which always makes it a bit more fun. I know that sounds really bad but..”

“It’s fine, we’ve heard worse.” You comfort him, smiling gently. He looks awkward but carries on at your insistence.

“The casino was okay, we spent a few hours there. There was a cute guy that Namjoon had his eye on but it turned out that he was taken so both of us were out of luck. We lost more credits than I’d like to admit we lost. Turns out we’re not as good at gambling in those areas as the people who live there.” He gives a lopsided smile, filled with sadness.

Yeah, no shit, you think to yourself. That’s because the people that live there gamble for their lives, of course they’re better than a tower who’s just throwing money around. They probably took them for all their money, and then some.

“Anyway, after Namjoon got bored of losing we decided to leave. We were just going to head back home honestly. We’d both had a long day, pretty tiring. I just wanted to go to bed, I was meant to be travelling to New York tomorrow...today, for business. We...we couldn’t find an aircar that was free. In fact, there were barely any aircar’s around there at all, so we decided to walk for a bit to somewhere a little busier.”

A quick glance at Jimin has you realising that you’re both probably thinking the same thing. That it’s a goddamn miracle both of them weren’t killed just for being on the streets. You simply didn’t walk around those areas at that time of night.

“We checked the map of where the nearest transit station was, thinking that might have a free aircar or something. Or we could even use the transit and that’s why we went down the alley. We were halfway down, laughing about Namjoon losing this game earlier on and then suddenly...there was this guy standing there in front of us. He didn’t say anything, and...I couldn’t see him properly. The light...I’m sorry.” He breaks off, pressing his thumbs into his eyes as he bows his head. Neither Jimin nor you say anything for a moment, letting him compose himself again before he speaks.

His eyes are a little more watery now, his voice tighter and husky.

“He err...all I could really see was that he had this...spiked black mask on. Like a ventilator that people like to wear, but with these silver spikes on it. Err...I think his hair was black? He had no colour in it. In fact...his whole outfit was just...black leather. Nothing holo, nothing fancy. He didn’t stand out at all. He just...was standing there, which was weird as there hadn’t been anyone in the alley. We wouldn’t have gone in otherwise.” Seokjin stops once more, looking down at his half finished tea.

“This guy...just...stood there for a minute. Namjoon was slightly in front of me and well...we didn’t know what we were meant to do. We’ve never been mugged before. But then he just...lifted his hand and pointed at Namjoon. Pointed at him? But then there was this...popping noise and this purple flash. Then Namjoon was on the ground, the guy gone. And...I just...I freaked out. I called the cops and...yeah. I don’t understand. He didn’t even say anything? He didn’t even look at me?” His voice is broken as he whispers, the tears slowly falling to trail down his face.

He looked tired and worn out, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more prominent than when he’d begun talking and his soft brown eyes were now dark with unhidden pain. Perfectly dyed, platinum blonde hair was mussed on top of his head, becoming more so when he runs his fingers through it once more before gripping the strands in frustration.

Kim Seokjin is an attractive man, a clear product of centuries of careful breeding by his ancestors. Pink lips are plump and lush, his skin perfectly clear and untouched by augmentations or tattoos. Broad shoulders hold his elegant jacket perfectly and you don’t need to be rich to know that his clothes, the same material that Namjoon’s had been, were perfectly tailored. 

But despite how beautiful he was, despite the money he came from and the money he would go on to make, he still looked like every other human being when someone they treasured was taken from them in such a violent manner. He looked like part of him had broken earlier this evening.

“We’re very sorry for your loss Mr Kim. And that you had to witness it. Is there...anything else you might remember? Anything that sticks out about him?” Seokjin considers it slowly, obviously turning the questions over in his mind as he goes through the memory once more. You hate to make him think about it again, but you never know what he might know.

Finally though, he shakes his head with a deep sigh. “No...I’m sorry. That alley smelled so bad and it was so dark. There was...nothing.”

“That’s understandable. It was hard to see even when we were there and in the spur of the moment, with the shock of it all. Don’t be too hard on yourself Mr Kim, it wasn’t your fault. That’s what you need to remember. It might sound a little harsh but...there was probably nothing that you could do to prevent it. This man...I don’t think there’s anything you could have done.” Jimin looks at you as you place your hand on Seokjin’s squeezing gently in reassurance.

You can tell that your theory of this being a hit is becoming even more solid, and you silently query Jimin as to what you think you should do next. His face twists slightly before giving a slight nod and carrying on.

“I think that might be enough for what happened. If you remember anything in the future, please tell us. You might find that you’ll remember something important at a later date, when you mind is better able to comprehend what happened. Don’t worry if you can’t remember now. If it’s okay though, we’d like to ask you some questions about Namjoon himself?” Jimin taps at his own band, his own holo screen the standard blue neon as he runs through police files to bring up Namjoon’s profile.

All citizens of New Seoul had some kind of profile on the police network, though most people would find it to just be publicly available information. Namjoon, as the son of the mayor, had more than a little information available.

“Yes, yes of course.” Seokjin takes another bite of the doughnut, chewing just as slowly and mechanically. You get the sense he’s not even tasting it properly and you sigh softly, leaning over to Jimin and whispering into his ear.

“I think we need to try and speed this up a little. He looks like he’s going to fall face first into the table. Let’s get a little information and then we can wrap it up and he can go home. If we need more info then we’ll contact him later. It sounds like a bust in terms of the scene anyway.” The words are featherlight, your voice barely audible even to him but he hears you anyway thankfully.

A slight nod is all he gives in response before he looks back at Seokjin, giving him a small smile.

“You first met Namjoon in high school, correct?” Immediately Seokjin is shaking his head, disputing what Jimin is saying.

“No, no we’ve known each other since kindergarten. Our families have known each other a long time. Namjoon was sent abroad to school for a few years and then came back for high school. We both went to King Sejong Private Academy before going to Seoul National University after that. He took a degree in politics with a minor in international relations, I did business management and international relations. He went to Harvard for his post-grad, I went to Oxford. But then we met up again when we were both back here in New Seoul. We’ve been living here for the last five years now since being back.” Jimin nods, updating his information in his file quietly.

“Apologies, our information isn’t usually that thorough. So...you’ve known Namjoon for a while then. Did he ever have anyone who might want to try and hurt him? Anyone who was outwardly aggressive with him?” They were standard questions and Seokjin’s brow furrows as he considers, lips pursing before he shrugs.

“I mean...he’s the mayor’s son? He has the same enemies his dad does. Well, enemies is a harsh word. Political opponents is the polite term in our society. But...they’re not dangerous. At least, not to Namjoon? They might try and assassinate his dad but there’s no need to hurt Namjoon. Although…” He trails off, thoughtful suddenly. “His dad was preparing him for the next mayoral election. Presenting him as his successor. There’s a lot of people who don’t like his dad, and Namjoon...didn’t have the greatest opinion of the augmented. That might not have gelled well with a lot of people?” 

“What do you mean? What were his opinions about the augmented?” You ask, interrupting him. You’re leaning over to look at Jimin’s notes now, running through them to see if there were any notes about this. “I can see that his post-grad dissertation was on the downfall of humanity with the rise of augmentations?”

“Yeah. His dad has a low opinion of augmentations. Thinks they’re ruining humanity, letting the...lower classes get above their station. And there’s a lot of people who think the more augmentations you have then the less of your soul you have. His dad wasn’t that intense about it but...Namjoon started to get that way. His mom was in the Dongdaemun Attack.” Internally you wince. The Dongdaemun Attack had been the New Seoul government had been looking to regulate augmentations twenty years ago. A group of cybernetically augmented anarchists used it as an excuse to get attention to their cause, murdering over five-hundred people.

Namjoon would have only been nine-years-old, an easily influenced age.

“I don’t know why he got so fixated on it recently, we tried to discourage him. I’m not a fan of too much but I think augmentations are people’s own choice you know? Do you think...maybe that was the reason?” Biting your lip, you look at Jimin to see him looking at you with a droll stare.

It was obvious he thought the same as you. That it was highly unlikely that this was motivated by terrorism or anything like that. After all, the killer hadn’t said anything to him. Hadn’t tried to argue his point, hadn’t released anything since or claimed the incident. And there were plenty of people with much worse opinions than Namjoon.

“How deep were these opinions of his? Did he think that maybe augmentations should be banned completely? That people with augmentations are a lower class or anything? Subhuman?” Some people thought like that. It would be hard to see New Seoul electing a mayor with those kinds of views though.

Seokjin shook his head. “No. He just...he didn’t like augmentation. Never got any himself, tried to encourage us to not get any. It was more...I think it was more his spiritual beliefs. Like he was afraid that if humanity keeps going this way then...we’ll get lost or something? I don’t really know. But he wouldn’t ever impose them on others. Namjoon wasn’t like that. Despite what he thought, he believed in freedom of thought too. And freedom of expression.”

“Hmm, okay. It’s a start though. We’ll look into it. Has Namjoon received any...threats that you’re aware of?” Again, he shakes his head in response before twisting his lips.

“No. But I don’t know if he’d tell me that. You might be better looking through his computer at home. There might be something in there, whether he’s deleted it or not. I don’t know. But he’s not been acting afraid or anything so I don’t think so? I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.” Jimin presses something on his screen before it vanishes, giving Seokjin a smile equally as tired.

“That’s fine, you’ve had...a very rough night. That’s all for the moment. If we have any further questions then we’ll contact you. I think it’s best that you probably go home and rest now.” Seokjin nods jerkily, not moving for a second before taking a final drink of his tea and standing.

“Thank you. For...investigating this. I...I hope you find it. Namjoon...Namjoon was a good man. A really good man. He didn’t deserve this.” He leaves the room surprisingly quickly given how tall and broad he is, his long legs taking him through the break room with ease until he reaches the door.

Once he’s gone, you finish the recording and end it before turning to look at Jimin with raised brows. “So...sounding more like a hit.”

“Yeah, but why? Because he doesn’t like augmentations? That’s not exactly a unique view today. In fact, he’s probably more in the majority now than the minority. Plus, there’s no flag in his file to indicate anything worrisome regarding extreme views, or even that he’s being targeted for those views. I think for the moment, it’s probably more likely to do with his dad.” Jimin leans back with a heavy sigh, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he slouches.

He looks tired, and that reminds you of how tired you are as well. Yawning, you cover your mouth with your hand before letting out your own sigh. Suddenly, your eyes feel heavy with a need to sleep. Understandable, given you haven't slept all day yet.

“Guessing you weren’t asleep when the call came in.” Jimin says suddenly, and when you look at him, you realise that he’s looking directly at you. There’s concern in his face as he scans over you and you give him a lethargic smile, shrugging slowly. Despite his sarcastic nature, you knew that Jimin did care for you and he maintained the same level of concern and protectiveness that you had for him in turn.

That’s what partners did.

“Was finishing up that paperwork from the Kang case.” Lips twisting, Jimin nodded slowly before groaning as he stretched. There were a few pops and cracks from his joints and in the silence of the break room, you can hear the subtle whirring of the machinery in his arm. The arm was covered in synthetic skin, specially designed to mimic his normal skin. He hadn’t wanted the hassle of it, but he hadn’t been awake when they’d fitted his arm properly.

“You know...they make this job look far more glamorous on shows.” He mutters, standing up and finishing off his own energy drink. You wonder if that was really a good idea for him now, given he should probably head back home and go to sleep. Or rather...go back to sleep.

Smirking at him, you stand as well, taking his can and your cup to the recycler before throwing it in. “What? You mean...you don’t think the mountains of paperwork you have to do isn’t glamorous? Just not trying hard enough.”

Leading him out of the senior break room, you feel Jimin poke your waist hard before letting out a snort. “What am I supposed to do? Extravagantly type while fending off a criminal who’s hellbent on destroying the station? Have flirtatious conversations with my file assistant while updating my expenses form?”

“I hope you’re not having flirtatious conversations with your file assistant. Didn’t you choose the cartoon German Shepherd?” He laughs loudly, your boots echoing on the loud halls. You’d expect that at five in the morning, it would be only a skeleton crew on. But this was the police department for New Seoul, one of the biggest cities on the planet.

Night just meant more crime.

“Well, it’d live up to the stereotypes of dashing male detectives who are perpetually horny, right?” Wrinkling your nose, you look at him in disgust.

“Ew.”

“Anyway, you should get home. Get some sleep otherwise you’re going to be the walking dead. And I have more than a little feeling that this is going to be a big case for us. A case that is probably going to have us being hounded by the uppers until we solve this.” Letting out a groan of your own, you pause and twist your lips before running your hands over your eyes.

“Fucking hell. Sorry, I’m the one that picked up the call. And I can’t go home. It’s five, our shift starts at nine and it takes forty-five minutes just for me to get home. I’ll just nap in the bunk room for a few hours.” 

He doesn’t respond for a few more minutes, the silence between you two comfortable from the years of working together. Jimin doesn’t try to argue with you, instead following you to the room lined with bunk beds that could be used by officers and detectives for a quick nap. Most of the time, that meant anyone who’d been working an extra long shift and needed to energise themselves.

But for now, it would allow you to get a few hours sleep before your shift actually started. Because once it did, the real investigative work would begin and you’d both be knee deep in the politics of it all.

Picking a bunk furthest from the door, which hopefully would mean it was furthest from any unfortunate noise, you sit heavily on the bottom bunk with a sigh. Staring down at your knees, you chewed your lip as your mind whirred despite your tiredness. Already you were coming up with theories as to what had happened.

You don’t realise that your eyes have been drifting shut as the adrenaline from the night leaves your body and the comfort of the bed you sit on calls to you strongly. Not until you feel a tugging at your feet, startling you awake once more. 

Looking down with wide eyes, you see it’s your partner, knelt before you as he carefully unlaces your boots. You’re thankful that one of the inventions over the last few centuries had been odourless shoes, because you can’t think of what it would smell like given how many hours you’ve worn these particular boots for. 

Jimin carefully takes them off, leaving you in only your socks before looking up at you with a gentle smile. Without a word, you take off your coat and hand it to him, letting him place it on the hook next to the wall while your boots go in the small cube holder. He takes off his own boots quickly, repeating the movements that you had before sitting on the bed opposite you.

There’s little space between the bunks, quantity more than quality, and his knees press against your own. Looking down, you marvel at how big he is compared to you. You’re not even a small person really, but he just looks...so much more. Part of you knows that you’re just being slightly delirious from the sleep deprivation, having been awake for over 24 hours now. But part of you knows it’s just something you’ve admired about him for a long time.

“Come on supercop, go to sleep.” Jimin says, his voice husky yet soft. You note the folded blanket and fresh pillow he must have grabbed from the supply closet and carefully place the pillow down before curling up beneath the blanket. It feels absurdly warm and comfortable, which is how you know you’re tired because it’s well known the bunk room is basically a cold coffin.

A few familiar beeps cause you to blink blearily at him, noting that he was setting an alarm on his band before he too curls up on his bunk, a deep sigh leaving him as his body relaxes. All you can see right now is the vivid magenta of his cybernetic eye, his dark hair falling into his face prettily while the tips glow yellow.

You’d figure out who killed Kim Namjoon, and you’d do it with the help of Park Jimin, the best detective you’d ever known.

-

The next three days are spent interviewing the friends and family of Kim Namjoon. Jimin and you were waiting on the report from Jungkook about the crime scene and the autopsy report from the pathologist, though you both knew that the reports weren’t going to give you any more information than you already had. 

Jungkook had been pretty clear that there wasn’t likely to be much more evidence he could give you, and from all accounts it had been a clean kill from an efficient suspect. On top of all that, you were left with the frustrating knowledge that Kim Namjoon, while having some views that could have future potential for conflict, was by all accounts a nice guy with no personal enemies of his own.

The interview with his father had been particularly awkward, given his grief at the loss of his son that had combined with his belligerence at the idea of having any enemies that could have done this. Apparently it didn’t particularly enter the head of Kim Minhyuk that he wasn’t entirely a popular mayor, but then again, those in power didn’t tend to listen to critics.

Which left you in an awkward spot with the case. Neither of you had found anything even remotely like a breakthrough, and while it was only three days into a case that by all accounts, should probably take a good few months to work through, you knew that you were being carefully monitored by the people higher up the chain.

Rubbing your forehead, you let out a deep groan as you flop back on your couch and rub at your eyes. Despite the lack of progress on the case, you still had other cases to work on while also engaging in background research of Namjoon and everyone who knew him, alongside filling out all the necessary paperwork.

You were beyond thankful that the auto-transcript was a thing, though you’d still had to read through them while listening to the audio version to make sure it had all worked properly. It was infamous for throwing random words in occasionally, which certainly wasn’t acceptable when handing in evidence to a court.

As such, you’d spend the last six hours sitting on your couch like a potato as you’d listened to the interviews and read along with the transcripts. Taking off the headphones, you let your head fall back on the couch as you look over at Jimin where he sat on the other end of the couch, his own body slumped into the comfy cushions.

���Transcripts are all okay, I’ll log them all into the case file now.” You tell him, fingers darting over the holoboard over your lap as you carefully save each file into the designated case file on the police secure server. A backup file is generated instantly in both yours and Jimin’s own computer systems while a third is saved to the police backup.

“All okay?” He asks, his voice rough from disuse. Given that you’d agreed to spend the day working through the transcripts, which was a job that neither of you particularly liked doing, he’d agreed to work on the case notes of the Park Junhee case that had been opened three months ago. The pathology report had finally come in for her and Jimin had been adding the information into the case file.

“Yeah. I didn’t get any new ideas or anything listening through again,” Making a very childish whining sound, you relax against the couch with a deep and heavy sigh. “We really have nothing right now.”

“We’ll get something. We always do. There’s no such thing as the perfect murder, you know that.” Giving him a droll look, you snort loudly before rolling your eyes.

“No, there’s no such thing as a perfect murder. But there is such a thing as overworked police detectives who can’t find any clues and therefore end up closing the case because they can’t find anything to move it forward.” Jimin smirks in amusement before nodding, his face looking sallow in the blue light of his holoscreen.

“True. I’ve finished up this so I think it’s time we both put the work down and just...relaxed,” He turned his holoscreen off finally, letting his own head lay back on the couch as he closed his eyes. “Christ, this was meant to be our day off. And I’ve spent the whole day sitting on your damn couch filling in reports.”

“Sorry, you didn’t have to come here.” You say, standing up and stretching with a grunt. As you lean your head back, rolling it on your shoulders and enjoying the way your neck cracks satisfyingly, you don’t see the way Jimin scans along your body with a darker eye than usual. 

“Yeah well, it was better than sitting in my own apartment. My neighbours are pissing me off and I’m tempted to ask someone in the department to make a house call on them. God, they won’t stop partying and fucking. Your place is much quieter.” He stretches out too, the familiar popping of his joints even louder than your own and you laugh loudly.

“That’s just because I’m not a cheapskate like you and paid for the soundproofing.” You muse, grinning at him as you walk past to the small fridge installed into one of the kitchen cupboards. A lack of space was something that you had to get used to in New Seoul, which had made it all the more disheartening to interview Namjoon’s friends and families in their beautiful, expensive apartments high above the clouds.

Your window looked out onto one of the many small streets of Hongdae, the university still present just down the road. As a result, you got the lovely view of a smorgasbord of shop signs, advertisements and messages in a headache inducing rainbow of neon colours. Needless to say, you’d invested in blackout blinds to keep the sight away.

“True. I’m reaping what I sowed. And for a little extra cash I can’t even spend anyway as I’m too busy working.” He mutters, making you chuckle as you hand him a new bottle of his favourite beer. Looking down at it with pursed lips, Jimin mutters a thanks for glancing over at your own bottle of alcoholic cider.

You weren’t a big beer drinker, but you did love drinking cider. Particularly flavoured cider, and the drink in your hand was strawberry and apple flavoured. A favourite of yours from a small microbrewery out in what remains of the countryside down near Gwangju.

Crashing back on the couch, you take a deep drink and hum in happiness as the delicious flavours settle over your tongue. This brand is more expensive than others because it uses natural flavourings. Which meant it was made from real apples and not fakes. You felt it was always worth the price.

“Can I try that?” Jimin asks suddenly, causing your brows to rise in surprise. He wasn’t really the kind to drink fruity drinks, though he wouldn’t say no if given one. Brow rising, you smirk before handing him the glass.

Only he doesn’t take it from your hand, instead, he leans forward until his lips wrap around the end of the brown glass bottle, his eyes focused firmly on yours. You feel a hot flush run through your body at the sight of those luscious, pink plump lips almost seductive as the fingers of his artificial hand, the skin soft but the strength behind them evident, gently press against your own, tilting the bottle up.

His throat swallows slowly, long gulp that cause the muscles to contract and expand in a way that has your breath stuttering. The sudden sexual tension between you two is almost physical and you’re half convinced that if you reached out then you could touch it. But then he pulls away from the bottle, wet tongue licking along his lips slowly as he contemplates the flavour.

“Hmm...tastes good.” Smirking, he leans back and takes a drink of his own beer. He doesn’t stop staring at you though, and you’re left holding the bottle at a funny angle as you stare at him dumbfoundedly.

Then your eyes narrow while your lips purse, contemplating him. Jimin was a bold man, and you knew that he went for whatever he wanted. He was well aware of your attraction towards him, and you were pretty sure he wouldn’t say no if you asked him for anything sexual.

The stress of everything that has been happening pushes you on before you can second guess your actions, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to have your partner tonight. Right here, on the couch. You were going to seduce him, and then fuck him until he was crying out your name.

Make good use of the soundproofing you’d invested in.

Keeping firm eye contact with him, you bring your bottle to your mouth, carefully taking a sip before letting your tongue catch the remnants you let trickle down the edge. Jimin’s eyes immediately follow the movement and you internally cheer, knowing right then and there that he was going to be receptive.

Carefully placing the bottle down on the low table in front of you, you reach for Jimin’s and do the same with his. There’s a brief pause before you shift quickly, swinging one leg over his until you’re sitting on his lap. Almost immediately his hands move to rest on your waist, the warmth from his left hand a burning heat on you.

“Mr Park, I have a proposal for you,” You state cheerily, giving him a smile as you run one finger down the tattoos on his face. He raises his dark brows in question, the corner of his lips turning up in amusement. “I find you sexually attractive and I’m pretty certain you find me equally as attractive. I propose...that we fuck and get out all that tension.”

“Hmm, bold assumption there. But I agree. Sounds like the perfect stress reliever.” His voice is almost whimsical and you shudder as he drags his fingertips up, beneath your top. Grinning as he pushes it higher, you lean forward until the tip of your nose is pressing against his.

“Good. And the department does say that partners should always strive to work on their cooperation.” You murmur, lightly pressing your lips to his in a ghost of a kiss. Just enough that you can still feel the sensation of his skin on yours but so light that you feel the desperation for more.

“That is true. And I feel this would go a long way to improving our morale and communication skills.” Jimin goes along with you, his teeth bright in the instant he flashes a grin at you before he tugs your shirt over your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and leggings. His eyes flick down to the breasts, the bra a simple and plain white that wasn’t anything fancy.

You’d think that you’d spent thousands on it though, with the way the iris of his natural eye expands rapidly and his artificial eye darkens to a smooth magenta. It was odd how his cyber-eye worked to mimic human reactions, particularly given it wasn’t even remotely human looking. But still, you enjoyed the visible signs of his arousal.

And that was to say nothing of the semi-hard erection you could feel pressing against your core, causing your inner muscles to quiver in anticipation as a wave of your own arousal likely dampened your underwear. You decide then and there that you’ve had enough of bantering with him, and instead wrap your arms tightly around his neck as you bring your lips together, the pressure hard enough to make your teeth clash momentarily.

Running your fingers through his hair, you marvel at how silky smooth the strands are. Even the ends, with their cybernetic pigment, feel completely natural. Right now, they’re a vibrant orange that almost reminds you of the old tigers that used to roam the planet.

His hands stroke along your bare skin, the sensation overwhelming to your touch starved body and you moan deeply into his mouth, grinding your hips forward in an effort to bring some relief to the desperate need in your body. It had been a long time since you’d been sexually active with anyone.

Like Jimin said, your job was simply too busy to allow for personal interactions. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d spent time with your best friends. And even they worked in the police department as well, one as a narcotics detective and the other as a crime scene analyst. 

There just wasn't enough time in the day.

But Jimin and you had the same schedule. Which meant the possibilities were endless, and given his natural attractiveness that had served you well for more than one fantasy over the years, you knew that this would be the perfect way to relieve your stress while hopefully getting a good orgasm out of it all.

And maybe just some intimate time with another person and not just your hand.

Sighing into his mouth, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug lightly, resulting in an odd mix of a moan that ends in a growl. Jimin pulls away from your lips before beginning to trail his own down your jaw, the metal ball of his piercing oddly cold against the heat of his skin wherever it brushes against you.

His hands jerk suddenly and your bra falls down your arms, causing you to let go of him to throw it off. Shifting back slightly, you let him take in the sight of you half naked, enjoying the way he licks his mouth as if you are a meal he’s going to devour. Because you do want that.

Sure enough, he dips his head down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, the heat of his tongue against the hard bud almost painful as he laps at it teasingly. A glance up at you through hooded eyes has you whimpering, your hands tugging his hair once more and he grins before ever so gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive flesh. Almost immediately, goosebumps rise on your skin at the sensation while you shiver in place.

Jimin lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating through his mouth as he sucks hard, his augmented hand playing with the neglected nipple with clever fingers that roll and pinch with just enough pressure. You can’t help the way you push your chest towards him, enjoying the way he plays with your body for a few minutes while his free hand gently squeezes at your ass in an almost rhythmic fashion, encouraging you to rock your hips against him in a way that has his erection rubbing against your clit delightfully.

“Princess, I’d really like it if you would suck my cock. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a while now.” Princess. That’s a new one. But you weirdly like it, a smile gracing your lips as you try to hold your laughter in and look down at Jimin. He’d worded it as a request, but his tone made it a command.

And the way your body shuddered in anticipation at the cool look in his eyes tells you that you like that. You’re not surprised. Of course Jimin would take a more dominant tone in the bedroom. The man’s never met someone he hasn’t wanted to challenge, and while in the workplace you would be more than willing to bite back at him, you were happy to give in here.

When working, you were partners. Equals. You respected him and he respected you. But here? Sexually? You trusted him with your life in situations that could result in your death, your trust with him sexually was far more easier to give.

So you stand, watching carefully as you bite your lip and slowly slide your leggings and underwear off in one go, the material clinging to the wetness from your pussy. You know Jimin sees the damp spot, they’re a pale blue so it’d be hard not to notice the sudden navy in the centre, but he says nothing.

Simply smirks at you as he takes you in, eyes roaming your body greedily as he chews on his own lip. Leaning forward, you let him cup your breasts reverently before you capture his lips with your own, the movement oddly sensual given how naked you are and the coolness against your pussy is even more enticing. 

Playing with his tongue as he teases you, you pull away from him slowly, his lips outrageously swollen and glistening from the messy kiss. But you say nothing more, simply sinking to your knees before him and being thankful you’d had the sense of mind to have an exquisite fluffy rug put in.

The quick inhale Jimin makes as you reach forward and press your hand to the bulge in his pants has you smiling, letting you know that he’s probably just as excited and turned on for this as you are. Pressing your finger against the buckle, you watch as it immediately retracts and you’re free to reach what you really want.

Slipping your hand into his pants, you dip beneath his underwear and grasp the thick, warm shaft of his cock tightly. His head falls back on the couch, a soft sigh of relief as you squeeze him tightly, the coarse hairs at the base of him tickling your hand slightly. Maneuvering slightly, you finally get your first glimpse of him as you pull him from the depths of his pants and you squeeze your thighs tight.

Jimin isn’t long, but the girth of him is more than enough to make you know that he’s going to stretch you in all the right ways. The slight bend in his shaft has the tip of him reaching upwards, letting you see the bulbous head and the slit in the centre, the colour of him already darkening from his arousal.

Licking your lips, you experimentally stroke him in one, long movement that has him letting out a stuttering breath. Smirking, you lean forward and flick your tongue over the tip of him, tasting the clear precum that was beginning to leak from him in a dainty and playful kitten lick. A soft growl from him lets you know he wants more and you comply willingly, wrapping your lips around the tip of him in much the same manner he’d drunk from your bottle.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink down his cock, the thickness of him stretching your jaw a little wider than you would have liked but you try to take as much as you can. His hips jerk upwards at the sensation and he lets out a moan, causing you to press your tongue as flat as you can to the back of his cock. The thick vein beneath your touch twitches and you hum, letting him feel the extra sensation as the vibrations fill your mouth.

His reaction is instantaneous, another quick jolt of his hips while his cock convulses once more. Pulling upwards, you hollow out your cheeks to increase the amount of pressure he’s feeling while your hand moves to grasp the base of him once more, beginning to work in conjunction with your mouth as you repeat your movements over and over. The noises he makes increase even more when you reach into his underwear with your free hand and begin to gently play with his balls, figuring out what makes him tick and moan the most.

You’re not even sure how long you’re down there for, all you know is that Jimin seems to be enjoying every second of it from the way his hand on your head keeps pushing at you, his pleasure so much that he doesn’t quite realise what he’s doing. There’s no complaint from you though, not when you’re enjoying it just as much as he is. Your partner tastes far better than you’d expected and he feels so good in your mouth that your pussy is almost screaming in demand to feel him too.

Whether it’s because you’ve both never slept with each other before or just because Jimin’s not an overly talkative person during sex, he doesn’t say a whole lot. Which you’re half sad about, because you’re sure he’d be good at dirty talk, but you’re also relieved because you’re not normally a fan of said dirty talk.

Maybe not yet anyway.

Despite that though, the sounds he makes are so erotic that you can’t find it in yourself to care that he’s not vocalising his pleasure in words. His body is doing that for him, and you continue to lap, lick, suck and stroke at his cock as if it was your favourite thing in the world. But you were also starting to feel a little neglected, your pussy soaked with your excitement and aching from emptiness.

Pulling off him, you look up at Jimin as you take deep breaths to regulate your breathing once more while your hand continues to jerk him off. Looking up at him, you lick at your lips hungrily and almost whine at the dark look Jimin gives you.

“Please fuck me now.” You beg softly, the need between your legs so strong that you’re not even bothered about what you sound like. Jimin had already established earlier that he would be in command, but you knew him well enough to know that he liked his boundaries being pushed too. So your request is a plea, the words tinged with a whimper while you try your hardest to make your eyes look beguiling to him.

Hissing as you squeeze his cock, he bites on his tongue slightly as he bares his teeth, a furrow forming between his brow as he wrinkles his nose before he nods. His skin looks flushed, the pink enticing against the natural golden tan of his complexion and you grin in excitement.

Letting go of him, he stands and quickly pulls off his black shirt, revealing the jaw droppingly toned torso that had you feeling hot inside many a times at the station. You’d seen this much of him before, and the tattoos that crept down his real arm in yet more geometric circles and thick lines, some of them stretched down his chest and back, are even more enticing now that you can press your lips to them.

Which you do, obviously. Mouthing hot kisses of need against the black lines on his chest as he manages to shift around you, kicking off his pants and underwear to leave him naked before you. The tip of his cock presses against your abdomen, the rigid member hot against you and you gasp in delight, pushing up to bite gently at Jimin’s jawline.

A low growl leaves him before he has one arm around your waist, pressing you to him tightly until his cock is firmly wedged between both your stomachs while his other hand forces your neck up until his lips are against yours in a forceful kiss. You give in to him happily, the trust you’ve built with him for years letting you know you’re okay.

Moaning as he presses against the small of your back, making your hips grind against him while he does the same, you know that he’s using your body to jerk off. And it’s more than exciting, it’s infuriating because your poor clit is beginning to feel very ignored. 

Between kisses, you manage to gasp out your request to him.

“Please, Jimin. Please.” The low rumble of his laugh lets you know he’s teasing you, playing with your desire for him and stringing you along on a dance of arousal. If you’d been in a normal situation, you would have snapped at him to hurry up. But you weren’t in a normal situation right now.

Still though, he’s not cruel. And so when he pulls you down to the couch, you let out a deep sigh of relief at the knowledge that cock was going to be firmly inside you within minutes. The knowledge that he was going to be bare, taking you raw and hopefully filling you with his thick cum made you clench, even more wetness forming at the prospect.

You both were under the police health care, which meant you were both inoculated against all known diseases and viruses. That included sexual ones, and you both had birth control implants. You knew, because you both get them at the same time. Which had been only two months ago.

So you were free to have the messiest sex possible with him. And the idea was more than a little enticing.

He doesn’t move on top of you though like you expect, nor does he pull you on top of him. Instead, he lays so his back rests against the couch, his torso lifted by one arm before he pulls you in front of him, letting you lay with your back to his chest. The knowledge he was going to take you from behind, which was one of your favourite positions and the quickest way to bring you pleasure and an orgasm, was even more exciting and you couldn’t stop the whimper that left you.

Jimin laughed softly, his augmented arm lifting your leg up before running his hand along your inner thigh. The skin there is so sensitive, so vulnerable and you shudder at his touch before he slides his hand further down, meeting the wetness there. A sigh from him has you trying to look at him and he catches your lips quickly, the kiss deep but fleeting.

“I’d love to feel you with my real hand but, this is my dominant hand. You’ll appreciate it more, I’m sure.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jawline before you feel his fingers slide through the slickness of your entrance. His augmented hand has always been cooler than his real arm, and you feel that coolness now against the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves at the centre of your legs.

The flesh there is hot to the touch and swollen with need, the bud of your clit so prominent that Jimin finds it with minimal effort. His quiet laugh at the way your body jerks at the touch has you gripping his arm, trying to get him to add more pressure. But his arm is far stronger than you, and it doesn’t even move when you try.

All thought vanishes your head though when you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, the tip pushing through your folds with ease and coating itself in the wetness that has accumulated. You don’t even realise that you’re murmuring requests and needy pleas to him, desperate for that blunt head to spear you until Jimin murmurs that you’ll be okay.

And then he’s pushing his cock inside you, the thick intrusion penetrating you at an agonisingly slow pace. But you relish the stretch he causes in you, the almost relief your body experiences as he slides deeper into you before finally he’s bottoming out, balls pressing against your pussy while his hips push your ass. A deep groan leaves him when you tighten on him experimentally, a mirrored groan escaping your mouth as you let your head fall onto the cushion.

“Oh fuck, Jimin.” You whisper, throat tight and voice husky with pleasure. Pushing your head back into Jimin’s shoulder, you tilt it to try and see what his expression looks like right now. But you’re distracted immediately by the way he pulls out slowly, the movement causing his cock to drag against all the right nerves in your pussy and you let out a breathy moan.

“I’d like to say I’d take this slow, but I honestly just want to fuck you hard and fast.” Jimin whispers into your ear, his breath hot against you and a garbled response leaves you as he thrust into you at the same time, the movement harder this time. Body rocking forward, you can’t find it in yourself to complain at his words and instead push your hips against him, encouraging him more.

He takes your body movements as permission and hooks his arm around your thigh, pulling higher and stretching you open for him. The depth he’s hitting is so pleasurable, so good that you’re just left making incomprehensible noises as the lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out of your obscenely wet pussy takes over. The only other thing you can hear is your stuttered breathing, hints of moans lacing each one with more than a few cut off from how hard he slams into you.

Eyes closing, you whine and pant with desperation, wiggling your hips against him as the pleasure overwhelms your senses completely. The years waiting to have sex again were definitely worth it if this was your reward for all that celibacy.

And then you feel his fingertips against your clit once more, the cool digits feeling so lifelike against you. Moaning loudly, you’re not entirely sure if you’re moaning his name or something else but you reach down to his hand, guiding his fingers into the rhythm that pleases you most until he’s able to do it on his own.

The tight ball of feeling in your stomach grows more and more, the combination of Jimin’s fingers on your clit as he rubs in the quick, constant movement you’d shown him in combination with the quick thrusts of his hips overloading your pussy with pleasure. It sparks and pops in your veins, causing your body to twitch against him as your hips begin to gyrate, almost as if they’re not sure whether to encourage him on or push him away.

But the insistent press of his cock against all the spots inside of you that cause the needy noises to escape your throat without your knowledge and his clever fingers on your clit combine in what is possibly the quickest orgasm you’ve ever had in sex before. Muscles tightening, you let out ragged moans, your breath catching and almost choking you as you pant and mewl in his arms.

Throughout it all, Jimin keeps moving. His hips slap against your ass repeatedly in quick thrusts that have you whining in overstimulation, your convulsing inner muscles squeezing tight on his cock repeatedly and causing him to grunt at the added pressure and friction. It’s not long before you’re pushing his hand away, unwilling to accept the added stimulation that was now bordering on pain and instead you let out gasping breaths, the occasional moan slipping from you, as Jimin now focuses on his own high.

His speed increases inside you, thick cock moving in and out of your pussy almost like a damn machine and you’re a little shocked to release there’s even tears falling down your face from the sheer power of the orgasm he’d given you. You’re not upset or anything, it just seemed to be a natural reaction.

“Ah fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jimin grunts, one of the few things he’s said the whole time before his thrusts begin to lose their fluidity, the movements jerky before he finally orgasms. You’re almost surprised by the way you can actually feel his cock twitch inside you as he cums, filling you with ropes of white cum. It’s an erotic image that actually has you shivering with surprising arousal, despite how tired you feel throughout it all.

And then Jimin is still against you, his chest breathing just as hard as your own as he lets go of your leg. You’re so exhausted from it all, which is ridiculous considering he did all the work, that you let it hit the couch with a thud, causing Jimin to laugh. Sure enough, you soon see his face where he pushes himself up to look over at you, a bright grin painted on while his cheeks are flushed and he has a delightful sheen of sweat all over.

He looks hot, and beautiful.

“Tired?” Jimin asks, playfulness in his voice despite what you’d just done. A small ball of anxiety you’d had in your stomach that maybe he’d treat you differently after relaxed. Of course he wouldn’t treat you any differently. He was Jimin, and you were both adults capable of separating work from play.

Despite that, you realised that he’s still fully inside you. You don’t say anything though, finding it surprisingly nice to just cock warm him for a while. So you’ll let him stay like that for as long as he wants. Smirking up at him, you blink slowly.

“Well, it’s very tiring being this good. I mean, I made you cum in less than what? Three minutes?” You state, putting on a thinking face that has Jimin snorting and rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t contradict you, instead shrugging casually.

“You’re right. That was quick. Good, but quick. I’ll have to do better next time. Are you okay?” He asks, scanning down your body to check you over. Humming, you stretch as much as you can without causing him to slip out of you before nodding and grinning.

“Yep, I’m good. That was a fucking good orgasm Park, holy shit.” The aura of pride mixes with smugness on him and you can’t help but chuckle at the sight, causing you to roll your own eyes at him. “Don’t get too cocky.”

“I still have my cock in you, so I’ll be as cocky as I want,” He muses. “We should order food. I’m fucking hungry. Are you?” 

When you nod, he finally slips from you and manages to climb over you awkwardly. You take in the sight of his toned body before focusing on his now semi-hard cock, slick with your own wetness and with a streak or two of his own cum. The feeling of said cum leaking from you is particularly nice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, you should probably go to the bathroom.

He’s halfway between getting dressed again, his underwear and pants on before he crouches in front of you. “Hey, this changes nothing between us, okay? We’re still partners. And friends. I’d be something more with you if it wasn’t for the fact we’re literally partners and I think we’d kill each other within two weeks. You okay with that?”

Pausing, you look him over and see he was serious. You would be something more with him if he wanted too, and you knew it wasn’t possible right now as well. The fact that Jimin was potentially open to it in the future made your stomach twist but you nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small smile. 

You two were partners; you spent twelve hours a day with each other on the job investigating murders and more. As much as you’d love to be able to claim him for your own, you knew a relationship would not stand that. Too much time together without enough to talk about would leave your free time resulting in resentment of each other. You’d seen it happen with partners before.

The two of you would get new partners at some point though, and you would jump on him then. For now though, you simply grin.

“What do they call people like us? It’s not friends with benefits, though we are friends. Partners with benefits? Colleagues with benefits?” You muse to yourself, standing and ignoring the cum that leaks from you even more. It’s probably a good idea, because Jimin certainly has noticed it as he puts in the order for your usual at the local takeaway.

“I believe, fuck buddies will suffice.” Grinning at you, he wiggles his brows as you grab your clothes and move off to the bathroom. Nodding in response, you muse that at least you’ll both be stress free when you work from now on. Or at least...less stressed than before.

“Fuck buddies it is. Make sure you get some of the honey butter fried chicken for me!”

-

The loud, familiar beep of a call makes you look down at your band, thankful that the hovercar has been set to automatic. Glancing over at Jimin where he sits in the passenger seat, you raise your brows at him and lift your wrist.

“It’s Jeon, guessing he has news for us.” You say, watching as Jimin’s lips twist at the sight of Jungkook’s name. The two of you had thankfully been completely normal since the frantic sex a few nights ago, which you were grateful for, and it was almost amusing how easily you both slipped into your work personas around each other.

“Hopefully. Or at least something that we can lead with.” The two of you were going to interview one of Namjoon’s friends that had been out of the country since Namjoon’s murder. A fact that both of you found strange, given Seokjin had explicitly said that Min Yoongi had been the one to tell them to visit the casino.

But you’d just had to wait for him to come back, and a week after the murder he finally had. You thought he’d probably come back for Namjoon’s funeral, which had been scheduled for the following week. The autopsy report had come back for him, though you haven’t received it personally. It was probably what Jungkook was calling about.

Usually the CSA’s would compile a full report of all the crime scene analysis along with the autopsy report so you didn’t have to wait around for the other. It was a pain when one took longer, but it usually ended up being easier to read so you were pretty content with it. Any extra tests that were required did come in the form of extra reports, and you were hoping that there was no need to wait for any of that.

Pressing the band, a small holoscreen popped up just above your wrist with Jungkook’s face prominent. He looked to be distracted, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as he hummed something while his brows were furrowed, concentrating on something you couldn’t see. 

There was no mask on his face today and you noted the strong jawline he had along with the almost chiselled features. It was almost amusing how his big, bright eyes could make him go from looking like a certifiable badass to the sweetest guy ever. There was a reason he was hugely popular at the station.

Today though, he just looked all business and you knew he was in work mode. As expected really. Looking away from whatever had his attention, his eyes met yours through the small screen and he gave a small smile. Two black ball studs dotted his lower lip, shining slightly against the light of whatever screens he was looking at.

“Afternoon Detective,” He said as a greeting before nodding his head to Jimin when he saw his face too. “I’ve got the CSA and autopsy report for you. I’m sending it through now. Unfortunately I don’t have a lot more to give you regards to the crime scene. I’ve narrowed down the types of boots available but given how clean this scene was, it could be that they used a different sized shoe purposefully or even grafted a different sole onto their boot. It’s not much I’m afraid.”

Sighing deeply, you nod and give him a small smile. As expected, but actually hearing it made it all sound even harder. Glancing over at Jimin, you saw the tiredness on his own face as well. Having no evidence at the crime scene meant your jobs were going to be much harder.

“However, there was something interesting in the autopsy report. A quick overview for you, there was nothing of interest anywhere. Cause of death was a single laser shot to the forehead at close range, which we’d already figured out anyway. He had consumed large quantities of alcohol and there were traces of nemesis in his system but not enough to cause concern. Sounds like he had a fun night.” Jungkook smirked.

Nemesis was the new drug of choice in the city. Despite its name, it was pretty harmless thankfully and only resulted in a pleasant high. As Jungkook noted, nothing of worth there. But you were interested in whatever had caught his eye.

“Okay, sounds exactly like Seokjin told us. What’s the interesting thing?” Jimin asks, his thought process evidently following yours and you nod in response to his words. Biting your lip, you wondered if maybe this could be the breakthrough you need.

“Namjon had a few of the gene updates that are common with families with the money for it. The usual updates; updated immune system, increased brain capacity and all that. Nothing of real interest or help. However, he had exactly one cybernetic augmentation. His right eye. From what the pathologist noted, it’s exceptionally old, probably from in his first five years of life. It’s been sent over to the hackers for more investigation, they’ve been given a high priority notice so I would probably expect you to be able to have some more information by the time you get back.” He finishes his call promptly, letting you know that the reports have been copied into the case files and usual back ups for you before ending it.

Looking over at Jimin with risen brows, you see a similar look of surprise and confusion on his face too.

“I’m not being stupid here right? The guy who apparently has anti-aug views has his own augmentation? And an eye at that?” Jimin’s own augmented eye is bright in the hovercar, the sky outside perpetually gloomy and overcast from centuries of pollution. Shifting in his chair, he looks at you thoughtfully with his lips pursed.

“I mean...it is possible to have those views and also have an augmentation. But...it is pretty hypocritical.” Letting out a groan, you rub at your forehead as you slump in your seat. Licking your lips, you roll your head to look at him.

“Right, well. It’s probably a useless fact at this point. If it’s from that long ago then it likely has nothing of interest for us but we’ll swing by the hacker lab later,” The hacker lab was the slang term for the people who worked in the technology lab, those whose specialty was investigating any tech evidence that came in. “But for now, at least we can go in with what is hopefully surprising information.”

As you say this, the hovercar begins to settle into a space at the parking lot of the tower Min Yoongi lived in. Exiting, you both move towards the elevator and enter the number of the apartment you’d been given. There’s a brief pause and you get the feeling the elevator is asking permission of said apartment before the elevator begins to move.

“Are we actually expecting anything that could help break the case here?” Jimin asks and you know he’s been thinking the same as you. This murder was so clean, so perfect, that under any other circumstances, you’d have been tempted to just give in immediately. But you couldn’t, not this time in particular.

“No. I’m not. And we’re gonna be severely fucked if we don’t get something soon. You know damn well that they’re not gonna take this lightly that we have no information. Even though they probably know the hard spot we’ve put in.” Your partner snorts loudly at that as the elevator comes to a halt, the doors sliding open smoothly to reveal an elegant hallway. 

It’s lit stylishly with subtle lighting in the ceiling while a luscious, thick black carpet coats the floors. You think the carpet is stupid, because what if someone came in with particularly muddy or wet shoes? Then it’d be fucked, but hey. Rich people.

There are dainty tables made of what looks to be real black wood positioned at intervals between the black metal doors and you note idly that there are only four doors on this entire floor. Which means the apartments beyond must be ridiculously large. The hallway alone is bigger than your entire apartment.

“Can you imagine being this rich?” You mutter, gesturing to the real flowers that sit in a clear glass vase, the stems a luscious green while an array of bright colour gives off a sweet fragrance. Above the vase is a framed painting of...well you don’t know what it is. Lines, apparently.

Jimin looks around and shrugs, amusement on his face as you both reach the correct apartment door and press the button to alert him to your presence. “No. That’d require me to look at this shit and think ‘ah, this is nice’ when in reality I’m thinking ‘someone actually paid for that painting?’”

That gets a laugh from you which you quickly cut off when Min Yoongi answers the door, his face pale with dark shadows under his eyes. He scans you both over quickly before welcoming you inside with a small smile, apologising to you for being so late in responding to your interview response.

“It’s fine Mr Min, we just have a few questions and then we’ll be gone.” He pauses before nodding, his shoulders slumping slightly and you glance over at Jimin questioningly. A slight shrug is all you receive before he carries on scanning the apartment with interest.

Yoongi leads you both to a black leather couch, the cushions artfully placed on it a mix of silver and cream. After an offer of a drink, which you both decline graciously, he sits down on a matching couch heavily.

Setting up the recording as usual, you look directly at Yoongi and smile reassuringly at him. “Could you please tell us what happened that night? Anything you can remember might be helpful to us.”

He pauses for a moment before nodding, taking a sip of the cup of coffee he’d already had. The scent is delicious and you wonder about maybe asking for a drink after all. It smells like Min Yoongi uses real coffee, which is more than enticing.

“Erm, I’d been working all day. I work at the headquarters of my father’s bank, Min Banking, and we’re in the middle of a takeover of a Hong Kong based bank. So I’d been at work from 6am until 9pm and wanted to relax. Seokjin said he and Namjoon were going out and wanted some fun, so we met up at a club. Had a few drinks there, talked about the usual crap. They wanted to keep going but my midnight, I was done. And I had to travel to Hong Kong the next morning, which is why I’ve been gone. So I told them about the casino that some of my other friends had been to.“ Yoongi looks down then, guilt etched into his face and he looks far more tired than you’d anticipated.

“I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw Namjoon,” There are tears in his eyes now, his voice croaking slightly. “I just...they always went out together, you know? Namjoon and Seokjin were like a pair and they were always fine. And then...and then this happens? I just, was it my fault for telling them to go there?”

Shaking your head, you give him a sweet smile. “No, don’t think that way. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

Jimin nods along with you and you both give Yoongi time to compose himself once more. Wiping his eyes, he gives you a weak smile before shrugging.

“I’m four years older than them both. Our families are old friends, it’s how it always is. So they were always little brothers to me, you know? Looked up to me and I tried to look after them too. Namjoon had such a bright future ahead of him, you know? He was going to run for mayor and everything, his dad had been grooming him for it his whole life basically and he’d finally decided he wanted it.” Nodding, you let him get everything out. It wasn’t useful to interrupt in interviews too often and was better to let them get into a flow.

“It’s hard to...Namjoon was so nice. He’d never annoyed anyone. Who would want to kill him? And why?” 

Pursing your lips, you take a deep breath as you offer a potential answer for him. “We’ve been told that apparently Namjoon had some, anti-augmentation views that were becoming a bit stronger in recent years? We understand it had something to do with his mother and the Dongdaemun Attack?”

Yoongi snorts, his eyes rolling and you’re almost taken aback by the contempt in his eyes for what you tell him. When he sees the obvious surprise in yours, and Jimin’s, eyes he flushes slightly before explaining.

“Namjoon had some anti-aug views yeah, but they weren’t nearly as intense as everyone thought. He wrote a paper on it for his postgrad and he’d talk about it but...you have to understand Namjoon. Who he was. He was...one of those philosophical types, you know? He’d theorise constantly, be coming up ideas and thoughts. It wasn’t that he actually hated augmentations, it was more like...he wondered where the limit was going to be? Where humanity would stop and machines would take over. But he certainly wasn’t running around screaming that augmentations should be stopped. He also didn’t like eating meat, if we’re talking about the things he wasn’t fond of.” Yoongi’s voice has turned gruff and you hesitate, pausing to glance over to Jimin.

You’d gotten the impression so far that Namjoon wasn’t as gungho about his beliefs as you were initially told, but you hadn’t been given quite this in depth of a look into his mind. If what Yoongi was saying was true, and you had to admit that everyone had been pretty adamant that Namjoon wasn’t some raging conspiracy theorist, then perhaps even this avenue was a bust.

“So...he wasn’t bothered about his own cybernetic eye?” Jimin stated bluntly, his own face a picture of disgruntlement that the ideas you’d had were now falling apart in front of you. Yoongi jerks slightly, his eyes widening in astonishment before confusion takes over. It’s only for a second before you see comprehension in his expression.

“Ah, yeah. I totally forgot about that. When he was a kid, like 4 or something, he got this virus in his eye from some weird bug. They couldn’t save the eye so they had to remove it. Given his parents and their wealth, they obviously went for a cybernetic replacement but they had it made so that there were no symptoms of it. It didn’t show up on scanners and it just showed whatever he saw with his natural eye, no writing or special enhancements. Solely a replacement eye.” Lips pursing, you want to shout out loud and throw your hands up given the wrench this was throwing into the works.

You’d finally had a fucking breakthrough, only to be told that it was probably nothing at all. Rubbing at your eyes, you let Jimin take over the interview for a few minutes.

“Why? Is that important?” Yoongi’s question is urgent and you wish you had something better to say to him. Some way to give him some hope, or at least closure in regards to all this. Instead, all you have is even more questions.

“We don’t know yet. We’ll have to find out. But the information you’ve provided us is very helpful, and we appreciate your time. Is there anything else you might remember?”

-

Walking through the police station, Jimin and you quietly discuss the interview with Yoongi as you head towards the hackers lab. It had been a bust really, and both of you knew it. The lead with the eye was looking like a dead end already, and now you’d been told that his anti-augmentation views weren’t even that bad. It was ridiculous how little evidence you had.

The doors to the hacker lab opens up and you grimace as the room inside is far darker than outside. And that’s to say nothing of the ridiculous array of gadgets, figurines and more than dot almost every free inch. The hackers were aptly nicknamed as they were usually recruited when they were caught hacking some aspect of the police network. It was almost a right of honour now.

One thing they all seemed to have in common was a love of crap, ridiculous colours and doing questionable things that often made you wonder how they were still on the police force. A slight pressure on the small back of your back indicates that Jimin is behind you and you let him move you forward through the desks, noting the large number of holoscreens that clutter each desk.

There’s even one with six screens, and you’re about to ask how on earth they get any work done but you’re past him before you can say anything. The desk Jimin leads you to is occupied by an eccentric guy you’ve come to know over the years. For some reason, it seems like he’s been assigned to your team or something. But he’s good at his job, so you’ll let the odd collection of creepy dolls on his desk go. And the stupid, oversized glasses on his face that reflect every damn bit of light in the room.

His desk has three screens open, a holo keyboard at his fingertips as they dart across it at impossible speeds. Eyes widening, you watch him for a few seconds in amusement. Kim Taehyung was only twenty-two years old, but he’d been working here for over four years now. After he’d got caught hacking into the cold case files.

Why he’d wanted them, you had no idea. And neither did anyone else, as he’d never bothered to tell anyone his reasoning. But he’d joined the force and been ridiculously productive since. You almost got the impression that he seemed to think he was living in a show or a film or something.

His hair today is glowing neon green, the tips blending into a yellow that’s so disgusting you actually scrunch your nose at him. He looks like the pee of a teenager after a night out in the most popular clubs in the city. And you know, because you’ve seen exactly what that looks like many times. Why people felt the need to ingest stuff that actually glows is beyond you.

His face is dotted with piercings; two studding his upper lip and two mirroring this on his lower, a piercing similar to Jimin’s in the centre of his lower lip and two nose piercings. His eyebrow has been pierced three times and there’s a cheek piercing too while his ears are probably making excellent impersonations of Swiss cheese.

Glancing up at you both when Jimin coughs loudly, Taehyung’s eyes are almost comically big beneath his glasses and he grins brightly at the sight of you both. It’s stupid how beautiful Kim Taehyung is and you’re not surprised that he’s also another hearthrob at the station. His smile is always laced with mischief though, and there’s nothing different today about it.

“Detectives! Come, come! Sit, sit!” He says eagerly, rolling his chair back and gesturing to the space next to him. This gets him a blank look from you both as there isn’t anything for you to sit on but you just shrug, crouching down while Jimin stands behind you.

“There’s no chair’s dickface.” Comes a feminine voice to your left and you look over to see Lee Siyeon, Taehyung’s partner in crime and the other hacker who often works on your cases. She’s basically the female equivalent of him and you’re about positive that they also have some kind of ‘fuck buddies’ thing going on, but you’ve never managed to get a confirmation out of them.

Her long hair is swept up into two, high pigtails on either side of her head with one side being neon pink and the other neon blue. Black lipstick coats her lips and her eyes are done with equally dark makeup, but you find that she pulls it off with the contrasting irises she has at the moment. Both her eyes were augmentations and she’d been one of those who chose to have the ability to change her eye colour on the fly.

Right now, the eye opposite the pink is blue and the one opposite the blue is pink. A multitude of piercings are present on her face as well, but she’s also got some chest piercings that you can see. She has on a tight dress that accentuates her breasts and lets you see the unique piercings in her skin while the bottom is puffy with layers of white, pink and blue and her long legs covered in fishnet tights, black leather boots with high soles making their way up her calves.

Taehyung pauses to look at the space before making a surprised expression before shrugging. “Oh yeah. Oh well, sorry. So we got the eye last night actually and I’ve been working on it for you.”

“Really? All this time? Why?” Jimin asks, his tone much nicer than the blunt words he asks. It’s always odd how well he gets on with Taehyung, given his naturally broody and sarcastic manner. Without even realising it, you end up leaning back against Jimin’s sturdy legs as you watch Taehyung’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Because there’s shit on it? Why else?” Of course, how silly of you both. Laughing, you lean forwards to rest your arms on his desk and take a look at the eye on his desk. It’s kinda creepy and you shiver, looking away from it. Taehyung had plugged it in to his unit and you found it weird how natural it looked.

“We got told by our interviewee that he got it after a virus when he was younger. Had to have the eye out, but given Kim Namjoon’s...feelings towards augmentation, we find it a bit hard to understand why no one else brought this up?” You query, looking at Taehyung with raised brows. He lets out an understanding noise before his fingers move over the keyboard once more.

“Well, that’s understandable. This is your basic eye, gives you absolutely nothing besides the bare minimum. It’s not even designed to give you a better resolution or colour or anything. Literally just a replacement, nothing interesting about that part of it. What is it interesting though, is that it has been designed to record for forty-eight hours intervals. After that time, the data is deleted and it starts again.” He taps once more and brings up a video screen, giving you a disorienting first person view of Kim Seokjin as he laughs, a table below covered in poker chips.

Standing up abruptly, you automatically grasp the arm of Jimin’s coat.

“Holy shit, are you telling me…” You let the question die off, your voice quieting as you look at Jimin and see the excitement reflected back at you. His grin starts to spread and you squeal, jerking his arm around as you realise this was hopefully the break you’d been looking for.

“Yep, we have the moment of his death.” Your intrepid little hacker smirks at you both, leaning back in his arms with his arms over his chest. Why he looks so smug, you don’t know because you’re pretty sure he didn’t actually do anything that you couldn’t have done, but whatever. You could kiss him right now.

“I created an algorithm that filtered out all the scenes of black that would have been caused by him blinking or sleeping, anything that would have had his eye closed. There’s no need for you to look at that, which leaves you with a hefty amount of footage still.” Siyeon interrupts, blowing a bubble of baby pink gum before it pops and she goes back to chewing.

Her own fingers are tapping the keyboard just as quickly as Taehyung’s and she doesn’t look over at you both, but you tell her thanks as well. It would help to make it quicker to view over the overall footage to see if there was anything noteworthy in the hours leading up to Namjoon’s death.

“Yes she did, my little sugar bumpkin,” He coos at her, making kissing motions and you look at Jimin in amusement of it all. “Anyway, what I spent all my time doing once the data was filtered was running facial scans on everyone it saw. There’s a bunch of towers, a few interesting people in the casino that should not be gambling...and this guy.”

The screen changes to show a dark image with an impossibly bright centre and you squint, leaning forward. Recognising the alley that you’d been in the other night, you purse your lips as you get your first actual look at the man who killed Kim Namjoon. It’s just at the moment he fired, a burst of bright purple-white laser fire lighting up his face.

Just as Seokjin had said, he wore a mask on his lower face that was studded with silver spikes and you note with interest that the laser is coming from the end of his finger. Humming, you lean your weight on the desk and idly recognise the feel of Jimin’s hand on your back as he takes a closer look too.

“Well, this makes it concurrent with our ideas of a contract kill. Who else has a laser gun embedded in their damn finger?” Jimin murmurs, his voice as his hand moves in a slow and reassuring manner. Making a noise, you move in even closer to look at the eyes.

“His eyes are neon green, probably augmentations. And it looks like he has a tattoo on that side of his face, black.” Trailing your finger over the image, you bite your lip before leaning back. All more points towards it being a hit.

“You’re right detective, and that’s why you get paid the big bucks. This dude is most definitely a pay and spray,” Taehyung uses the crude slang to indicate a contract killer. “What’s more interesting is that his face popped up earlier in Namjoon’s vision. Not close to him, more in the background and it’s only because he used a laser fire that we would’ve got the visual of his eyes so clearly, otherwise the programme wouldn’t have been able to match him.”

Both of your heads whip towards Taehyung, anticipation running through your body as you realised what he’d just said. Already you can feel your breath coming a little faster, wondering if this moment was truly it, the moment you’d crack it open. And so quickly!

“Turns out Mr Killer has a record, but he’s untouchable.” A tap of his finger brings up a mugshot and a profile of the man who had been responsible for ending Kim Namjoon’s life. The name glows brightly and you whisper it softly, reading through the information.

Name: Jung Hoseok. 

Age: Unknown

DOB: Unknown

Height: 5’10

Weight: 69kg

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Emergency Contact: Unknown

Crimes: Mugging, breaking and entering, grand theft auto, murder, manslaughter

Convictions: None

Notes: A member of the White Tiger Clan, suspected as the Clan’s hitman and cleaner. Exceptionally dangerous, do not approach. 

“Oh my fucking god,” You murmur, your blood running cold as you read over the information once more. His eyes are cold, almost dead, in the mugshot and you find that impressive given they’re not even real. But it’s the information you’d read that makes it worse. “The fucking White Tiger Clan. We were right, he was a hit killing.”

“It has to be because of his dad. I know he’s been clashing with some of the underground clans and cartels for a while now, and they’re one of the biggest out there. There’s no wonder he’s never been convicted of anything. Officers probably look in the other direction because I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to try and bring him in. And even if you do, you’ve got the clan on your head.” Jimin moves backwards, tongue in his cheek while he crosses his arms over his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from and feel your own stomach sinking at the thought. This was exactly the break you’d needed, and it was the exact opposite of what you’d actually wanted the whole time. He was untouchable. Even to the mayor.

“Fuck Jimin, we got so close.” Hissing, you let your forehead fall onto his head as your frustration takes over, hands balling into fists by your sides. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you know he’s thinking things through as well, wondering how on earth you’re meant to navigate this bombshell.

Sure, you could tell the mayor that you’d found who killed his son but that there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d be able to bring that person to justice. But he wouldn’t like that, nor would he accept that. Even if he knows it’s impossible.

Jimin and you were in between a rock and a hard place, and neither of you knew what you were going to do now.

-

A week later, you’re sitting with Jimin in one of the diners near your apartment. It’s a tiny bit grotty, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s passed the food standards requirements but all you care about is that the food is good and the staff are...well they serve the food with minimal complaints. 

Given how the case has stalled so spectacularly, you’re craving greasy carbs that will do absolutely nothing for your body except taste damn good. Which is why you have a cheeseburger that’s positively dripping grease, the cheese as fake as they come and the bread slightly soggy. The fries are crisp at least, and you dip one into the small cup of ketchup you’d been given.

It tasted full of artificial flavours and sugars, but you didn’t give a damn. Not when your mood was so low. The two of you had been given a reaming by your section chief, who had informed you that you had both better bring Jung Hoseok in for questioning or you’d lose your jobs.

“We’re absolutely fucked.” You murmur despondently, twirling a fry around with a pout as you slump into the cracked, faux red leather. This was one of those replica diners that simulated some era a few centuries ago. It was gaudy as fuck but whatever.

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, his own dinner consisting of a shredded barbeque beef sandwich that was loaded with equally fake cheese, fried onions and tomatoes. A weird combination but whatever.

He was a lot healthier than you usually, but he probably needed the energy burst as well. You’d like to say that you’d both been hard at the case since the meeting with Taehyung, but in reality you’d both just ended up resolving and closing other cases that were open and engaging in...well a lot of stress fuelled sex.

Which was great, but there were a lot of underlying frustrations about your work coming out in it. This morning had been one such explosive session, given that you’d been scheduled to meet with the chief once you got into work. Both of you knew what that meant and the stress and anxiety had all blown up into some ridiculously good sex. That relaxed mood it had put you two into plummeted quickly though in the meeting.

“We may as well just submit our resignation now, because we can’t win this case! It’s impossible,” Scowling, you squish the fry in your fingers. “If we don’t bring Hoseok in, then we will probably end up losing our jobs and given who Kim Namjoon’s father is, we probably won’t get a job here in New Seoul after that. But if we bring him in then we’re probably just gonna get straight up murdered by the White Tiger Clan for daring to bring their pet killer in. Or he’ll kill us first!”

Tongue licking at his lips, Jimin inhales deeply before letting it out and taking another bite of his sandwich. He chews slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face and you wish that you could see into his mind. Your partner was always the more level headed out of the two of you, but right now you desperately wanted him to get angry too.

He must sense the scowl on your face as he reaches out and takes the ruined fry from your hand and places it down before holding your hand in his own. Looking at him through narrowed eyes, you take in how relaxed his face looks.

“Hey, come on. This isn’t our fault, you know that. I know that. We’ll figure it out somehow. And...well, even if we don’t then I guess at least we’ll be jobless together, eh?” His smile is an obvious attempt to make you laugh but your spirits are so long that it doesn’t work and instead, you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying suddenly.

You’d never failed so badly on a case before and it irritates you even more to know that it’s not even your fault. That everyone was just being outside circumstances.

Jimin does say anything, but the gentle squeeze of his hand around yours lets you know that he’s there for you. Lowering your head, you simply use your other hand to bring the burger to your mouth and take a big bite, chewing almost sullenly.

You don’t notice the way Jimin suddenly stiffens as he sees something out of the window.

“Hey, hey. Look out the window. The fucker…” He trails off and you look up, squinting out of the darkened windows. It’s dim outside as usual, the only lighting coming from the abundance of neon signs for the stores and other diners around here and a lot of the interior lighting is being reflected as well.

But then you see what he does and your eyes widen in shock, your own body tensing up as you recognise the person standing on the other side of the glass. His mask is the same as the one that he’d been wearing when he killed Namjoon and those green eyes look almost eerie as they look over you both. 

Shuddering, you realise that you don’t like the fact that you can’t tell what’s going behind those eyes. Jung Hoseok tilts his head back, his black hair falling out of his eyes as he raises his eyebrows at you both, almost as if he was asking a question and expecting an answer.

And then he lifts up a hand, pointing at you in a finger gun style motion and your heart stops. You vaguely recognise Jimin saying something and moving but all you can focus on is the tip of his finger. The same finger that had produced the laser blast that killed Kim Namjoon.

When he ‘pulls the trigger’ though, nothing happens. Instead, you see the skin beneath his eyes puff up in what is obviously a smile beneath his mask before he waves goodbye at you both, almost cheerily. Taking a deep breath, that’s a little more shaky than you would like to admit, you watch as he turns around and walks away from the diner.

“Is he fucking kidding?” Jimin hisses and you realise he’s next to you, his knee up on the bench and his augmented arm over your chest. A part of you warms when you realise he’s protecting you, but you’re still being a little slow on the whole uptake right now frankly.

Before you can even say anything, Jimin is tapping his band to the payment screen on the table and throwing his coat on, his gaze focused firmly on the figure walking away. Suddenly, you realise what he’s going to do and you stand just as quickly, grabbing your own coat as fear runs through you.

“Jimin, Jimin no! We can’t!” You hiss at him, running after him as he marches out of the diner with what must be death on his mind. But you can’t stop him, despite trying to push him. Swallowing thickly, you glance over at Hoseok’s retreating form and try to get through to Jimin once more.

“Jimin!” You stand in front of him, refusing to move until he stops. Finally, he looks down at you and you shiver at the sight of the pure anger in his eyes. But you need to stop him, before he does something insanely stupid. “It’s a trap, don’t you see? Why else would he fucking turn up? And I mean, holy shit. He’s literally baiting us! He couldn’t be any more obvious!”

He takes a deep breath, eyes closing and you rest your hands on his arms, squeezing gently as you try to get through to him. “Please Jimin, please. Think. This is a set up, it’s so obvious. We’ve never even heard of the guy and then suddenly he’s outside our booth at a diner? He wants us to follow him!”

Jimin’s lips purse before he relaxes, his eyes still firmly on Hoseok’s rapidly disappearing form.

“I know, I know it’s a trap. But god dammit, he fucking killed Kim Namjoon, he’s killed who knows who else. And he just threatened you!” His voice goes low at that, the sheer anger blazing in him and you’d probably feel a lot differently about his protectiveness if you weren’t so terrified right now.

“It doesn’t matter. Jimin, we know damn well if we go after him then he’ll probably try to kill us. It’ll be a game to him. Or maybe he’s under orders to kill us.” You try to get through to him and Jimin finally looks down at you, tongue in his cheek as he thinks.

“I know. I know all that. But we have to try at least. If we follow him, we can try and get him before he leads us into whatever trap he’s set up. I have my stunner on me, he can’t combat that right? So we get close to him, hit him with it and see what he can tell us.” Eyes wide, you lean back from him with a frown.

“Are you fucking kidding? Are you trying to get him to torture us before he kills us? What the fuck?” But Jimin is walking past you, his pace fast as he strides to catch up to Hoseok. Unable to do anything else, and frankly unwilling to let your partner die alone despite his stupidity, you follow after him while pleading the whole time.

The scenery around you remains the same as before, generic shops dotting the floor and late night diners filled with hungry workers and teenagers with nothing else to do. Nightclubs are beginning to open up around the city and their own signs are a little more lewd, a bit more inviting.

“Where did he go?” Jimin suddenly asks out loud, pausing as he frowns and looks around the street. It’s one of those streets that you’d only go to if you had to, aka for your job, and you shuffle slightly closer to him at the sight of the unsavoury people around. Licking your lips, you look around as well and notice that Hoseok has vanished.

Uneasiness stirs in your stomach and you turn to ask Jimin to leave, that it wasn’t worth it. But then suddenly you’re both being grabbed from behind, your arms immobilized while the mouth of a gun is pressed to your neck. Managing to glance over to Jimin, you see that he’s in the same position and a sense of relief runs over you.

Which is stupid, but at least if you’re going to die then your idiot partner is going to die too.

“Detectives, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take your weapons.” The voice behind you is deep and you feel the familiar, economical movement of a pat down. Any weapons you have are confiscated and the same happens to Jimin, though at least he has his arm. “You are now in the territory of the White Tiger Clan. I recommend neither of you do anything stupid.”

Glaring at Jimin as you’re both manhandled into a sketchy club to your right, you manage to lean over to him to hiss angrily. “Oh sure, just follow him. We’ll get him before anything happens right? Well now we’re fucking in the custody of the god damn White Tiger Clan. If we never get seen from again, then it’s your fault.”

Jimin’s eyes roll, but you note the way he moves a little closer to you. Almost protectively. You’d be annoyed that he thought you were a damsel in distress but honestly, he was the better one for protecting. That cybernetic arm of his was not only stronger but was also made from a bulletproof metal compound. He had more chance of surviving this than you did.

The main room of the club looks like any other club you’ve seen; dark and sensual lighting, hologirl’s dancing on circular tables dotted throughout while people danced with wild abandon. There looked to be a good mix of towers and grafters in the room. Multicoloured hair glowed in the UV lights while clothing was a cacophony of loud patterns and vibrant colours.

It smelled of sweat and the artificial scent of endorphins that were no doubt being pumped through the ventilation system. There had been more than a few cases that you’d been on where the ‘endorphins’ that a club used had resulted in a death. Most people just got happy, maybe a little frisky. Some got violent.

Shuddering, you tried to limit how deeply you breathed. You sure could use Jungkook’s ventilator right now, but you had no doubt that the whole point of bringing you both here was so that whatever was in the air would make you a little more amenable. It rankled, and you tried to keep your face neutral when you were both led up a set of stairs at the back, discreetly hidden through subtle lighting.

At the top of the stairs was a balcony, the barrier blocking anyone from falling made of glass that seemed to have been coated in a non-reflective material. Pursing your lips, you gazed out over the club for a moment and took in the scene of pure debauchery before you. It looked even more hedonistic from here, the smoke from various machines around the room combining with the vape smoke people were using greedily, sharing from mouth to mouth.

The bar was lit up in a blaze of neon blue and purple, the colours surprisingly subtle given how loud they were. People were crowding the bar, three deep and you could see glowing drinks being handed out by the synth bartender, credits flowing between the customers and the bartender.

Finally though, you turned your gaze to the only table on the balcony. It was made of the same non-reflective glass as the barrier while the couches that surrounded it were a dark black, the leather reflecting the lights that flashed around the room.

Sitting with his legs crossed on one end of the couch was Jung Hoseok, now maskless as he looked entirely too relaxed for the little chase he’d led you both on. A smirk graced his lips, two rings dotted in his lower lip while studs dotted the same places on his upper lip, another in the centre of his skin below his lower lip. That was all combined with the piercing in his cheeks, the two metal balls looking prominent.

You’re struck by how similar his piercings are to Kim Taehyung’s and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of your clever little hacker.

Those neon green eyes stare at you intently, his eyelids narrowing as he looks you up and down and you get the urge to sneer at the killer. The tattoo that paints itself over one half of his face, the lines thick and solid, look even more striking in the poor lighting, his natural skin looking sallow and pale.

Lifting a hand, he waves at you cheerily before winking in amusement. “You two are fun to play with. Thank you for following along, I enjoyed it.”

“You’re a sick fuck.” Jimin hissed, his eyes narrowing as he bared his teeth at Hoseok. Shifting over to him slightly, you pressed your hand against Jimin’s arm in a gentle warning. You desperately wanted to tell him to not piss off the contract killer because the last thing you needed was making an enemy of him.

“Maybe so. But you’re not going to do anything about it.” Hoseok grins, uncrossing his legs before sitting back casually. And then he looks over to the woman sitting at his right and raises one brow. “Right?”

“That’s right. You may be NSPD but in here, you’re nothing but a pain in my ass.” The woman says, her voice casual but you can practically hear the condescension in it. She’s wearing a red leather dress, the material tight and clingy to her body while matching thigh high stilettos cling to her legs. You’re almost jealous of how good she looks.

Sleek black hair has been completely pushed back from her face, the strands looking almost wet or gelled so that she perpetually looks as if she’s just risen from the ocean depths or something. A holographic red visor covers her eyes, whether it’s a stylistic choice or it actually offers her information, you don’t know but it just adds to the intimidating look she’s got going on.

Vibrant red lipstick coats her luscious lips while talon like claws look as if she’s dipped them into fresh blood. A tap against her temple has the visor vanishing and you’re left seeing her full face properly. It’s elegantly sculpted with high cheekbones and a statuesque nose, her brows carefully drawn on while her wide, sea blue eyes are lined in thick black with a strong ruby line running along the crease of her eyelid.

You knew who she was, and your stomach felt a little nauseous as you realise Hoseok had led you both directly to the top. She was Kim Taeyeon, the leader of the White Tiger Clan. One of the most powerful people in the entirety of New Seoul. She held the power of her Clan in her elegant hands and had been responsible for hundreds of deaths in the city, thousands of addicts and probably millions of family heartaches.

She was probably one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, and that made her all the more frightening. Because she didn’t look like the type of woman who ordered assassinations, who planned out hostile takeovers of rival clans and cartels, who arranged drug shipping routes through the city and to other areas of the country, even other countries. But she was, and she did it with ruthless efficiency.

“Kim Taeyeon...I didn’t expect to be meeting you today.” You say calmly, trying to hide the fact that you were more nervous than you’d ever been before right now. The reality of your situation was starting to sink in, and god you wished someone else had been the one to answer that homicide call.

She smirked in response, tilting her head as she scanned over the both of you before carefully gesturing to the couch next to her. Neither you nor Jimin went to move, and the sudden movement of what was obviously Taeyeon’s bodyguard caused you to startle.

The woman had been standing silently by the side of the couch and it was only as you looked at her now that you realised she was probably more machine than human. One half of her head had been shaved, the skin there tattooed while cybernetic implants burrowed their way into her skull. One eye was a solid white, not even an attempt to recreate a human looking eye while the other glowed a fiery orange.

A fitted black jacket adorned her torso, beneath it a carefully pressed white button up. You could see her hands were metal, the same kind that Jimin had and you realised that both her arms were probably augmentations. The black hair that remained was straight and reached her shoulder, half covering a pretty face.

As Jimin and you sat at the proferred seat, she moved back into place and you watched with dual fascination and disgust as a thick wire crept down from the ceiling. It moved sinuously and she jerked slightly as it latched onto what must be a socket at the back of her neck. Almost instantly, her white eye turned black and her expression vacant.

You weren’t someone who had any real aversion to augmentations or anything, viewing it as a person’s own choice. But part of you certainly agreed with the anti-auger’s when it came to people like this woman. There didn’t look to be much humanity left in her and it made you feel cold.

Turning back to Taeyeon, you saw her watching you carefully before she glanced at the bodyguard. Almost instantly you feel hot with embarrassment, having been caught out staring so blatantly.

“Her name is Dami. She’s currently plugged into the security system here, watching and hearing everything that’s going on. The ultimate protection, yes?” Her brow raises elegantly before she gestures to the glasses that have been produced by a silent waiter.

“No, thank you.” You say politely and cringe internally as her eyes harden.

“Drink. It’s just water. I swear.” Jimin takes one of the glasses and presses it to his lips, slowly drinking the clear liquid inside. Reaching for your own, you watch him for a moment before seeing his subtle nod and taking your own drink. Well, if you’ve just been poisoned then at least both of you are going to die together.

That’s almost romantic, in a morbid kind of way.

“So, my two lovely little police officers. I hear that you’ve been searching for my little killer butterfly for a few weeks now.” A hand movement made you both glance towards Hoseok, who grinned at his macabre nickname.

“Yes, well. We have a few questions that we’d like to ask your...little killer butterfly.” You’re almost impressed by how much venom Jimin managed to put in that sentence, only it fills you with an equal amount of worry too. Was he purposefully trying to get killed.

“You can ask your questions to me. I know why you’re here.” Taeyeon said curtly, her lips pursing in an expression that made you feel very nervous indeed. If she knew why you were here, then what exactly was going to be happening from now? This was entirely unknown territory for you.

“Why you?” At that blunt question, you do hit Jimin’s thigh. It makes him jolt slightly and he looks at you briefly, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. But you don’t care as you give him an equally annoyed expression, silently asking him if he’s trying to get you both killed.

“A testy one, aren’t you Detective Park Jimin? No worries, I can only imagine how unnerving it must be to be in the heart of all this criminal debauchery. I don’t care though. You will deal with me, because this is my club and my Clan and he is my killer. He kills who I tell him to. Therefore, I am the one whom you will ask questions to. Is that clear?” A tilt of her head finishes her question and you swallow hard, throat surprisingly dry despite the drink you’d just had.

“We understand.” You say quickly before Jimin can offend her again. Taking a moment to inhale and settle yourself, you lick your lips before carrying on. “We believe that Jung Hoseok is the person who killed our victim in a homicide that occurred-”

“Yes, yes,” Taeyeon waves her hand, her eyes rolling with exasperation. “He killed Kim Namjoon, that’s correct. He killed him because he was ordered to kill him. There were no hard feelings.”

Her easy admittance has your eyes widening, causing you to look at Jimin. His own expression is a little more neutral than your own, but you’ve known him long enough that you can also see the surprise etched deeply within him. 

Had she just...openly admitted to having Kim Namjoon murdered? Part of you wasn’t really surprised given who she was, murder was a daily occurence for her. But this wasn’t just the murder of some random person, or someone else in the criminal underworld.

“I’m...I’m sorry. But...you do realise that you just admitted to being an active accomplice in a murder? And that he is the one who committed the crime? You do realise who was murdered right?” Your questions aren’t exactly subtle, but you can’t bring yourself to be polite given the situation and everything that was occuring.

Taeyeon’s eyes narrow, her face stilling in a beautiful visage that was as cold as it was stunning. “Yes, Detective. I’m not stupid. Kim Namjoon, the son of Kim Minhyuk. The mayor of New Seoul. Hoseok did his job efficiently, just as I expected.”

Frowning, you look at Jimin who finally looks as confused as you are. Pursing your lips, you poke at your inner cheek before sighing.

“You do realise that we are police detectives, correct? And that this is the case we’ve been investigating for weeks now. You’ve just admitted that you were both behind the murder. It’s our duty to take you in.” Your words are far bolder than you actually feel but your sworn oath to uphold the laws of New Seoul, no matter how much those laws get broken, propels you to say them.

“I realise that. But you have limited options here. As far as I can see it, your path will follow one of these routes. Firstly, you can attempt to arrest me. That will end up with your death at the hands of Dami and Hoseok. Secondly, you can attempt to kill me and you’ll probably get the same result. Although, I will be dead so there’s that.” She gives a small smirk, counting down on her fingers. “Let me tell you though, I will be mightily fucked off if I have to have your remains scraped from the floor. I can only imagine the cleaning bill in here.”

You’re almost amused by the fact that that is her only worry. But then you remember that it’d be your remains that she’d be peeling off the floor and suddenly it feels a little worse honestly. 

“However, I have no interest in killing either of you tonight. That would just be more of a headache than I can stand right now and I’m already unhappy with the amount of bullshit this has caused. It’s been fun watching the towers freak out over this but I’m over it now. I’ll tell you who ordered the kill on Kim Namjoon. You will not have any further negotiation with us though. We will not testify but we will provide you with the secure contract that was signed. Understandably, it will not lead back to us. Even if everyone knows. But it should be enough for you to fulfil your duty.” She smiles, almost catlike as her eyes narrow in pure amusement.

Eyes widening slightly, you realise that this is all just a fun game to her. A game where lives are mere pawns, worth nothing more than the money they can offer.

“Why would you just tell us? After all this? You’re just going to offer them up like that?” Jimin asks, uncertainty lacing his voice with an equal look of suspicion on his face. It at least makes you feel better that he’s as confused by Taeyeon’s sudden helpfulness as you are.

“Because I’m bored of all this. It’s caused way too much shit already. It was just a contract at first, we didn’t care who it was. They paid upfront and never questioned it again. That was good enough for us. And then suddenly it was all over the news and the police were looking a little too closely because he was the mayor’s son. It’s well known the mayor doesn’t care for us. So, I want it over. Give them another scapegoat. We were just the weapon used. And now we want this over and done with. So, we will give you the name and everything you need to take the person who actually did it. It’ll be amusing to watch the towers freak out over themselves once more.” She pauses, giving you both an imperious gaze before giving you a smile. It wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“Is that acceptable?” 

“I...we don’t have the authority to approve that. We’d need to go to-” Taeyeon interrupts with a quick gesture of her hand, her expression frozen. Taking Jimin’s arm, you have as close of a mental conversation as is possible with him. His blank expression tells you it’s not working, so you lean forward.

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here unless we say yes.” You murmur to him, lips brushing against his ear. For a moment, you’re taken back to the bedroom, when you’d whispered into his ear something far more delightful and sensual.

“I agree, as much as I wish I didn’t have to. We’ll just...have to argue it out with the chief.” Jimin whispers before sighing, sitting back and looking at Taeyeon with a resigned look.

“Fine. We accept your proposal. Who is the one who ordered the hit on Kim Namjoon?”

-

Standing in the familiar senior break room, you cross your arms as you poke your tongue into your cheek and look over the vending machine here. Brows rising, you note that it’s got real coffee in it and you automatically press for it, anticipation for the delicious drink already bubbling in your stomach.

The presence of Jimin behind you is familiar as he looks as well, inputting his own choice for a herbal green tea and you raise your brows at him in amused surprise. “That’s a rather healthy choice for you, no energy drink?”

“Not today. I’m going to go home once we’ve done this and sleep for the entire evening and night. It’s gonna be fucking great. I can’t wait.” Nodding, you smiled along with him as you both took your drinks over to the couch you’d decided on. The room was empty, as per usual, and you hummed in delight at the taste of the rich coffee.

“Man, they get spoiled in here. They don’t deserve this.” Muttering, you gesture towards the coffee and smirk when Jimin leans over to take a sip. He lets it stay in his mouth for a moment, savouring the taste before nodding in agreement.

Before you can both say anything else though, the door opens and you both watch as the person you’d asked to visit the station walks through. Smiling at him, you stand and offer out your hand for him to shake as he gives you a tired smile in response.

“Would you like a drink?” You offer, gesturing to the machine and he shakes in his head in response, lifting up a hand of gratitude at your offer. As expected from a tower, after all. “Please, sit. Thank you for coming into the station for us again.”

“Of course, it’s the least I could do.” His smile is sad and you look at the shadows under his eyes, frowning slightly. Tapping your band, you set up the interview process once more before gesturing for Jimin to begin.

“We’ve thankfully had a break in the case, which I’m sure you’re happy to hear.” The man straightens, his face going serious as he rests his elbows on his knees and watches you both closely. A subtle nod lets you know that he’s listening intently. 

“Really? That’s great, what is it? Have you found who did it?” The questions are urgent and you lean back slightly, holding the cup of coffee in your hand and inhaling slowly, taking in the scent you love so much. It’s a shame that you can only get it in here. Maybe you should try sneaking in more often.

“We have actually. A contract killing, as we expected from the initial crime scene and interview. Kim Namjoon was killed by a Mr Jung Hoseok, under contract with the White Tiger Clan.” His eyes widen at that, alarm evident in them as the name filters through to his head. You’re not surprised, they are one of the most famous Clan’s in the city.

“The White Tiger Clan? Why would they want him dead?” Brow furrowing, you marvel for a moment at how well he disguises it. If you hadn’t seen the proof already, you would have never suspected a thing about it all.

“They didn’t want him dead at all. In fact, we had a talk with them. They told us everything we need to know. Turns out they don’t quite care for being used as pawns in a political game.” Your tone is much colder now, eyes narrowing and you can tell he can sense the change in you.

That caring look in his eyes, the tiredness and sorrow is quickly vanishing. You’re surprised by how much scarier he is than any of the White Tiger Clan.

“So, care to tell us why you ordered the hit on Kim Namjoon? We can’t quite figure that part of it out, but maybe we’re just not wired that way mentally. What did he do to upset you so much, Mr Kim?” Jimin asks, tapping his finger to his lip while his brows rise in a question.

Kim Seokjin sits there for a moment, his eyes flickering between you both before the facade drops immediately. Any sense of emotion vanishes from his eyes and you shiver internally, realising you’re staring at the true face of him. The fact of a man who paid to have his best friend murdered, and then made sure to be at the scene of the crime to make sure he couldn’t be implicated.

It turned your stomach.

His perfect, pouty lips twist into a sneer that’s quite unbecoming for him and he sits back on the couch, crossing his arms over his broad chest. There’s silence in the room for a few moments and he looks around before shrugging, almost petulantly.

“I thought the contract was meant to be private. Secret, whatever the fuck they call it. I paid enough for it.” He snaps, unhappiness evident in his body language and you marvel at the difference in him. Jimin licks his lips before shrugging himself, pressing his band before bringing up the contract that Seokjin had signed, complete with his own unique signature. 

“They’re a criminal Clan, they can change the rules as they want. They’re not exactly famed for being honest, upstanding citizens,” Your partner points out, watching as Seokjin’s face goes stony at the sight of the contract. “They knew objectively that Kim Namjoon was the mayor’s son, but they didn’t realise the heat it was going to put on them. Or the way the city was mourning. So they wanted out, and they offered up the person who ordered it all.” 

That gets a scoff from your unhappy culprit, but he doesn’t argue back. He’s smart, he’s being educated at some of the best places in the world and has the benefit of gene improvements to further increase his intelligence. He can tell a losing battle when he sees one, and evidently he realises this is it.

“Fine, yeah. I did it. I ordered the hit on Namjoon. Organised it so that I’d give them the signal that they could follow to find us so that I’d be there when the hit went down. Hard to be accused of being the murderer if I’m right there, correct?” He smirks and your eyes narrow slightly, dislike seeping into every bone in your body.

“But why? Why do it? He was your best friend. He was like a brother to you according to everything we’ve heard?” The questions you ask are deep and imploring, giving away the confusion you feel towards Seokjin’s callous nature. His cold gaze turns to you, and you realise that you wouldn’t want to be on his friend list.

“He was my best friend. But he was also in my way. His dad was grooming him to be the mayor, and he’d have won. Namjoon would’ve been a fucking useless mayor. He was more interested in waxing poetic about stupid philosophical bullshit gave a fuck about or coming up with ways to improve the environment. The man was obsessed with trees and all that shit. Putting him in charge of one of the most important cities in the world was a fucking joke. I wanted the mayorship, and I knew that if Namjoon was gone then I could run in his place. In his ‘memory’,” He makes air quotation marks with his fingers then. “And people would vote for me. The poor man who watched his best friend get murdered in front of him. His dad would have supported me and I’d have got it. I’d have made a great mayor.”

He sounds almost annoyed that his plan had been foiled and you almost want to laugh at how cartoonish it all seems. His big, grand plan being upturned by the very people he’d paid thousands and thousands of credits to in order to take out his competition. It was irony at its best.

And you’re both stunned to realise his reasons were so...banal. Frowning, you flick your eyes to Jimin to see the same look of both confusion and condescension on his own face.

“If you wanted it that badly, why didn’t you just ask? From everything we’ve been told about him...it sounds like Namjoon would’ve given up and supported you. He didn’t exactly sound like leadership material, and I think he might have put his full weight behind you.” That gets you another eye roll from Seokjin, along with the scoff that only towers can truly pull off.

“Please. Namjoon would do anything his father told him to do. He idolised the idiot. Even though half the city hated him. I loved Namjoon, but I wanted this more. And it would’ve all succeeded if it had gone to plan. I had it all set up. You couldn’t possibly go after the White Tiger Clan because of who they were, but you couldn’t not as well. The best option was that you got killed, the lesser option was that you just get fired. Either way, the case goes cold. But no, the fucking criminals had to have a heart.” He snorts, disgruntlement written all over him.

Lips pursing, you narrow your eyes at the sorry excuse for a man. You’ve had enough of this and he’d admitted to it, so you didn’t need to interview him anymore. At least, not today. The prosecutor could have the fun of dealing with waste of air.

Standing, you try your hardest not to glare at him as you move around to his side. “Kim Seokjin, please stand. You are under the arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and the murder of Kim Namjoon. You have the right to…” You go through the rights as usual, forcing him to stand upright as you snap the laser cuffs to his wrist. A slight hiss at the discomfort comes from him but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Leading him to the door, you present him to the waiting officer and narrow your eyes. “I hope you get hit with every conviction they can possibly hit you with. You used your friendship, the trust Namjoon had in you to get him killed. For something stupid and trivial. He deserved more than that. He deserved more than you.”

Seokjin doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes as he’s led away to the jail that’s located in the basement of the building. You’ll see him again when he’s a trial, but for now, you’d be happy if you never saw his face again.

Closing the door behind you, you lean against it momentarily before letting out a deep breath. Jimin stands before you, far closer than a partner should officially stand but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. Giving him a weak smile, you raised your fist in mock excitement.

“Yay. We did it! Without dying or getting fired.” He snorts in amusement, augmented hand lifting up to trail along your cheek slowly. You know that he can tell you’re disturbed by what you’d just heard and you let yourself lean into his touch, needing the human contact with someone who cares.

“You okay?” Sighing, you flop your head back before shaking it. Neither of you saying anything for a moment before exiting the room and heading towards your own desks, one floor higher. Pursing your lips as you go, you stare down at the floor before letting out a noise of disgust.

“You know, I don’t get the mentality behind it. Behind any of them! I mean, Taeyeon I actually kind of understand. She’s a criminal, she runs a criminal organisation. Being cruel and hard is part of her thing. If you’re friends with her, you know full well that there’s every chance she’ll kill you in the future for a job opportunity. She’s open about herself. But him? He fucking cried at the interview with us. He cried at the funeral, consoled Namjoon’s father in his arms and gave a fucking speech about how much he cared for Namjoon. When he was the one who paid to get him killed. I just...I don’t know.” You trail off, feeling confused and more than a little angry at humanity as a whole.

Jimin pauses, grasping your arm lightly and simply pulling you into a hug. The hallway is empty and you let him do so, relaxing into his embrace as your eyes close and you try to push the frustration away. 

“Hey, don’t let it get to you okay? We see all sorts in this job and this is just one aspect of it. Don’t let him get to you. We did it. We got it done and hopefully, we’ll never have to see him again except at the trial. He’s gonna go where he belongs, and as a tower he probably thinks he’ll get off light. But he’s got another thing coming, especially when Namjoon’s father finds out.” That makes you laugh lightly, knowing that the tower community will come down on Seokjin like a hammer.

It was probably why he gave up so easily. Because he knew that he couldn’t get out of it. But still.

Pulling away from Jimin, you rub at your temple tiredly before smiling in thanks at him. “True. Maybe now we can both go have that well deserved sleep.”

He goes to say something but the beeping of your bands interrupts you, the message showing that you’d both been called to another homicide in the city. Letting out a deep groan, your shoulders slump as Jimin laughs.

“Maybe later. For now though, let’s go do our jobs. And hope this one has nothing to do with the Clan.” Smiling, you let him pull you along the hallway back to the elevator. In a city like New Seoul, a detective’s work is never really done and you’re just thankful that you’d managed to solve this one.

Glancing over at Jimin as he presses the button for the garage, you bite your lip before exhaling deeply. At least this time, you’ve gained something new out of the mess this case had been. Not quite what you were hoping for, but more than you had.

[mlmdarkfiction]

Communication

For Anonymous 

Fandom: The Boy

Pairing: Brahms/Male Reader

CW: Consensual Nonconsent Roleplay, NSFW Description: “I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t. Brahms was capable of hurting people. He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both. But he’d never hurt you. You have the utmost faith in him. Read Below: 

Soft early morning light fills the kitchen of the Heelshire Estate as you work on making pancakes for you and Brahms. He's sitting at the table reading the paper, and occasionally glancing up to look at you.

The radio is the only sound to accompany the sizzling of the pan. For once it didn't play the classics, instead it played one of the local stations that played the recent hits, Brahms had asked you for that after all. He'd said he wanted to see what he'd missed of the world while shut away, although you can tell from glancing at his expression that he doesn't seem to enjoy it much.

"What do you think of it?" You ask your partner, smiling at him. Even if Brahms doesn't enjoy it, you like it, humming a line under your breath.

He doesn't respond, and you have to hold back a bit of a laugh.

"You don't like it?"

"No." His voice is low, and deep.

Since he'd left the walls, since your relationship had developed, Brahms had almost entirely dropped his high pitch childish voice. It seemed to be entirely reserved now for moments when he's anxious, or in the incredibly rare circumstance that there's a stranger in the house.

"I think I prefer the classics." He continues.

"I'll turn it off for now then," It's a compromise. He's trying to branch out a bit.

"But I like this music, so."

You see Brahms roll his eyes childishly, but you don't bring it up since he doesn't argue with you on it.

"Here," You present a plate to Brahms. "I didn't burn it this time."

Taking your own plate you sit across from him, the pair of you begin to eat in silence.

It's Brahms who speaks up to break it, "I think I'll check the traps after breakfast."

"Mm." You hum in agreement.

Although he doesn't spend much time in the walls anymore, he's turned his old room there into an office for his dolls and any other projects he decides to work on, and lately he's had an issue with rats.

"A good idea. We don't want any more little visitors."

Brahms makes a face of disgust in agreement.

"The traps have been helping."

"Good." A soft sigh leaves your lips as you think of all the other chores you need to get today.

"I think after I do the dishes, I'll clean the bedroom and bathroom then."

It'll be a good use of both your time, you cleaning the visible parts of the house while Brahms cleans it's innards.

Brahms finishes eating before you do, and leaves his plate in the sink for you to wash before disappearing inside the walls.

You can hear him shifting and moving around out of sight.

It's quiet, you're sure it's not something Brahms is actually trying to do at this point, but more of a habit. If you didn't know what to listen for, if you didn't know he was there, you probably wouldn't hear him at all.

He hasn't left yet. He hasn't gone to check the traps yet, instead waiting to watch what you'll do.

You can feel his eyes intently watching you as you finish your own breakfast.

If Brahms is going to watch then you'll put on a show for him.

Humming under your breath you reach to turn the radio back on, a bit of music to set the mood, and gather your plates to take to the sink.

It's innocent, and playful, but you know Brahms is watching intently as you rock your hips and ass along with the music.

And exactly as planned you can feel Brahms’ eyes beginning to bore their way into your backside.

However you’re surprised to hear the scrapes and creaks from the ancient walls as Brahms moves away from you and the view.

You’re surprised. After all you expect Brahms to watch you for as long as he can, or at least until you’d finish the dishes and go onto your other chores.

And you do finish the dishes, alone, no longer feeling the invisible presence lingering with you.

It’s odd, but maybe he really is just looking forward to having a clean, rodent free office.

You don’t think about it anymore as you make your way upstairs, even as you hear movement mimicking your own.

Is it Brahms?

Is it the rats?

As much as you were used to listening for your lover, sometimes it was still hard to tell which was which, especially when the house was so quiet.

The sounds persist though.

You can still hear the shifting, the soft footsteps, and scratching as you clean the bathroom.

As you wipe down the mirror you can’t help but smile at your reflection. Without Brahms hovering around you for once you’re really able to take in your own appearance. You’re tall yourself, only three inches shorter than the 6’4 Brit, but between his height and width you just feel so much smaller.

Although you feel good about yourself, and your appearance, there’s something about seeing yourself next to Brahms that always has you feeling like you look soft, and squishy.

Huggable.

It’s not a bad thing, you think, after all Brahms seems to enjoy it quite a bit.

With the bathroom done now, you pull your long brown hair out of your face, and begin washing your hands.

You’re almost done with your chores and then…

A nap sounds good, although you’d hate to make the bed only to dirty it again.

So you don’t. You don’t make the bed, instead deciding to pick up around the bedroom. It’s already mostly clean, after all you tend to keep it that way to avoid having to do too much future cleaning later.

All you really have to do is pick up the dirty clothes from the floor and move them to the-

An unusual noise.

A loud noise.

It’s the sound of moving furniture, the scrape of wood on wood.

You stop, dropping the clothes into the hamper.

“Brahms?”

The noises stop abruptly as if startled by the sound of your voice, but…

It’s silent for a while, no response from Brahms, but eventually you begin to hear the regular sounds of shifting within the walls.

You shrug it off, he’s just busy after all, and there’s a chance the sound is just carrying, Brahms might even be too far away in the house to hear you calling for him.

Instead of worrying about the weird sounds you’d heard, you go back to finishing the last of your chores so you can finally take that nap.

Lifting the hamper into your arms you carry your and Brahms’ dirty clothes to the laundry room, humming the whole way.

Once again you become aware of the fact you’re being watched. There’s no proof, just that feeling , the all too familiar feeling of being watched.

Amused by Brahms’ continued attention you just smile as you start the load of laundry.

“I’m going to take a nap now, alright?” You ask the air, waiting patiently for a response you never get.

Brahms is just busy, you figure, likely working on something now that he’s cleaned and reset all the traps, and so you head back to the bedroom, not calling out again in fear of interrupting him.

Your awakening isn’t gentle or even natural, it’s not Brahms’ waking you with cuddles and attempts to get your attention, no it’s a sudden loud and distinct shattering sound that wakes you.

The shock of it all has your heart beating.

A nightmare?

Naturally that’s your first thought, it manages to calm you down, your heart rate and breathing return to normal only to immediately become erratic at a clear sound of something else breaking.

You could call out for Brahms but…

If it isn’t him, if there really is someone else in the house, that’d just make you a target.

A better idea would be to find Brahms yourself, and so you carefully get out of bed, listening for any sign of the intruder coming closer.

Nothing.

No more sounds.

You can’t stop the sigh of relief you give, inching your way to the door and peeking out.

The source of the sound from before is obvious now, a broken vase lays in the hallway, but there’s no intruder in sight.

Slowly.

Sloooowly you inch the door open just enough so that you can squeeze through.

You’ve only made it to steps from the bedroom door when you finally see them, the intruder, they’re standing at the bottom of the steps, clearly looking for something.

It’s a man.

The intruder is clearly a man, a man much bigger than yourself.

Other than his gender, and size there’s not much else you can make out since he’s covering his face with a black ski mask.

Fuck!

You want to curse, but you don’t, you can’t, not without risking being caught, but that’s exactly what you’re worried about.

He, whoever he is, is blocking the stairs, blocking your chance at escape.

Thinking fast, you have to after all, all it would wake is him turning to see you there, you decide to go back to the bedroom. Maybe then once you’re in there, safer and with the door locked, you could try to escape out the window.

Squeeaak.

Double fuck!

In your haste you’d forgotten about the age of the house, forgotten that if you weren’t careful the old floor boards would squeak.

And squeak they did.

Immediately you whip your head around to the stairs to see the intruder turn to face you too.

The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears, making it almost impossible to think, your next actions fueled entirely by adrenaline, fear, and fight or flight.

Instead of doing the logical thing; running into one of the upper hallways many rooms, and locking the door shut behind you while you try to find a way either outside or into the walls, you instead try dashing past him.

It’s stupid.

So stupid it works.

By the time the intruder reacts to you sprinting down the stairs and past him, all he can do is try (and fail) to grab you by the hair.

You don’t stop, you don’t look back to see if he’s following you, you can tell he’s following you.

You can hear him chasing after you, the floor making desperate noises as he runs after you.

Finally you do what you should have done to begin with.

“Brahms!”

It’s a panicked scream, not the gentle calls from before when you’d heard him in the walls.

You want Brahms to hear you, want him to save you.

“Brahms, please!”

Freedom is in sight running through the kitchen, you’ve almost made your way to the back door before-

Pain .

Sharp, searing pain spreading through your head as you’re forcibly pulled back and into the intruder.

For a moment you just pant in pain and panic, an arm firmly wrapped around your middle keeping you in place, when you go to scream out once again for Brahms the hand that had been in your hair instead goes to your mouth, roughly clamping over it.

You feel like you’re going to hyperventilate, forced to breath out your nose as the strong hand keeps your mouth covered.

“...Don’t scream.”

The man's voice is low, rough.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

He’s waiting for you to confirm, you realize after a moment of tense silence, and so you force yourself to nod despite his tight hold on your face.

“Good boy.”

The hand leaves your mouth, and so you take the opportunity to quickly breath in through your mouth, trying to calm your panicked heart.

“P-Please…”

Your voice trembles a little as you’re finally face to face with the masked assailant.

He’s so much bigger than you. You knew that before but now up close, face to face, you realize just how big of a difference it is.

You realize just how much danger you’re really in.

“I,”

The word barely leaves your mouth, throat feeling too dry to speak. He doesn’t seem to care though, like a predator watching his prey he lies in wait until you’re able to try again.

“I’ll do anything if you just...don’t hurt me. Anything, just...let me go.”

He laughs.

He just laughs.

Somehow that’s the scariest thing you think he could have responded with, and you can feel the ball of anxiety inching ever tighter in your gut before he finally speaks up.

“Anything?”

You gulp on instinct.

“Are you really sure you’re willing to do anything for me to let you go?”

Words leave you.

It’s too scary to think about what he’s going to make you do, so you decide not to, you just...turn your brain off, and you nod.

That’s all the confirmation the man needs, as he grabs you then, pulling you hard and flush against him, where you find that he himself is hard and flush.

Now you know where this is going and although you’re shocked and anxious, you feel a part of yourself exhilarated by the whole situation.

He’s grinding his cock against you steadily now, your body still forced against his own, and you can’t help but pant softly, your own body beginning to heat up in response.

You jump at the contact of rough, slightly chapped lips on your neck, a nervous moan leaving your own in surprise.

Although your attacker is wearing a mask, you can feel the hints of stubble below, all creating a familiar sensation of pleasure as he kisses all your sensitive spots, as if he knows from experience where they are.

“Ah~”

Teeth sink into your unmarred flesh with the intention to mark it, mark you, and all you can do is let the attacker have his way.

There’s no way for you to tell how long you stood like that with your attacker in the kitchen, his hard cock grinding against your own slowly hardening member, as he covers your neck in dark hickeys you’ll have no chance of covering.

Eventually.

Eventually though the other seems to grow tired of just grinding. He wants more. He wants something else.

“On your knees.”

Rough hands push you down and away.

You almost stumble as you do as you’re told, hurrying to get into position out of fear of what might happen if you disobey.

As soon as your knees connect with the kitchen's cold tile floor, you’re met with the intruder's cock.

It’s hard, the tip is shiny and red already smeared with his ever leaking precum.

Instinctually you lick your lips.

A firm hand rests on your lower back, scooting you slightly towards him, towards his dick.

Fearfully you look up at the masked man to see him look back, expectation clear on his half covered face.

“Well?” He asks, smugness dripping from his tone, “Don’t you know what to do?”

And you do, so you do it.

You take his cock into your mouth, just the head at first. The taste and smell completely dominate your senses as you lick the head clean, nursing the tip of any access pre.

Eyes slipping shut you focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to think about who the stranger who the cock in your mouth belongs to, or the strain that’s quickly becoming apparent in your own pants, no you just want to make this man cum as soon as possible.

“Ack-”

The rest of his cock enters your mouth, threatening to enter your unprepared throat as you jolt, a sudden stinging sensation going through your ass.

He’d spanked you!

Through your clothes sure, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Open your eyes,” He threatens, the first spank having only been a warning. “I want you to look at me.”

When you comply you’re met with a small kindness, those big hands that had spanked you before now soothingly rubbing at your covered ass.

“Keep sucking.” He says meeting your eyes as he reminds you of the task at hand, and you do as you’re told.

You tongue the underside of his shaft, looking up as you feel your shorts removed, followed quickly by your underwear.

The cool air makes you shiver, and a soft noise leaves your throat, vibrating the length in your throat, as your captor traces your own.

You feel his laughter, the way it rumbles through his body, before you actually hear it.

His hands are needing your ass forcing moans and other reluctant noises of pleasure adding to the rumbled vibrations to your captors cock.

Cum .

That’s all you’re thinking about.

Cum.

I have to make him cum.

I have to make him cum before-

It seems like your captor has tired of squeezing and toying with your ass as if it’s a stress ball, because the moments relief you feel as he finally stops is immediately interrupted by the feeling of a large finger tracing your rim.

A bit panicked you press against his thighs, but are only met with a forced buck into your throat before his free hand pulls you back and off his cock by your long hair.

No words come. You're too busy regaining air to your neglected lungs after that last harsh thrust in your mouth, and so you’re unable to protest as he forces you to the ground entirely.

“Huh? Wait! Oh~”

A finger, just one, is forced inside you, and you’re forced to silence, the air taken from your lungs so suddenly.

It’s a finger.

Only a finger.

But it’s so thick, thicker than your own.

The man says nothing, but you can feel the weight of his body atop your own, the rise and fall of his chest as he excitedly begins to pump his finger in and out, fucking you with it, as his cock grinds and thrusts against your thigh staining it as he leaks eagerly.

You remain breathless as a second finger is added, and already you feel so full.

“Please- Ah- Fuck-”

It’s hard to speak with thick fingers fucking into you, spreading and stretching your inner walls, making it so you’ll maybe, maybe be able to take that monster cock waiting for you.

Tears spring to your eyes at the realization that this is very much real, and when the fingers leave you, when you feel the man above you shift his weight to get into position you try to squirm away finally.

The kitchen door is there.

It’s right there.

You’re inches away from freedom, but....

The cock lines itself up with your stretched entrance, you cringe and sob expecting what’s to come and-

“Yellow.” It’s a whisper in an all to familiar voice.

Brahms voice.

Not just his voice, but his child voice.

Everything stops then, you wipe the fake tears from your face, and wiggle into a turn so that you’re facing the other man.

He lets you gently take his face into your hands, doesn’t react as you lift the ski mask.

Brahms looks unsure, nervous, and is clearly receding into himself as if he’d done something wrong.

It’s your job to assure him he hadn’t.

“What’s wrong?” The question is gentle, soft, the last thing you want is to make things worse. Gently you rub circles with your thumb against the scared part of his cheek, and he lets you, leaning into the familiar touch for comfort.

“You seemed...You seem…”

His voice is going back and forth between his own and the child voice, but you don’t rush him, you wait patiently for him to gather himself, no matter the voice he uses to express himself.

“You seemed really afraid.” He finally manages to tell you, moving to hug you, his body bent a bit so he can hide his face in your neck.

Brahms is supposed to be your protector. He doesn’t want you to be afraid or disgusted by him.

“I knew it was you,” It’s a soft explanation, your hands gently rubbing soothingly at his back.

“I was just acting,”

“You’re a good actor.” Brahms sounds almost as if he’s pouting.

It makes you laugh actually.

“Thank you but...I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the roleplay you wanted to do…”

Ah.

He’s scared he ruined things.

“No, Brahms sweetie, it’s okay.” You squeeze him in the embrace.

“That’s why we have safewords.”

He nods lightly.

“I would never want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

He nods again.  

Brahms seems a bit more relaxed now, at least enough that he’s stopped hiding behind his child voice.

“...Did I ruin the mood?”

“No,” A gentle smile takes your face. “You didn’t ruin the mood, but if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to continue, okay? I won’t be mad.”

There’s clear hesitation before Brahms answers you.

“Can we stop for today?”

“Of course-”

He shyly interrupts you.

“Could we just...make love instead?”

Your answer is given in the form of your lips on his.

A soft, loving kiss, and when you pull away you’re both smiling.

“Yeah, but...We have got to move to the bed, the floor is killing my back. “

It’s a painless enough move to the bedroom, although you notice Brahms has decided to don the ski mask once again, only slightly pushed up to reveal his lips.

“Hey…” You tell him softly, pulling him closer to you as you get comfortable in bed facing one another.

Before continuing you kiss him, it’s passionate, loving, you use the distraction to remove the mask entirely, throwing it to the corner of the room before running your hands through his dark curly hair.

“I love you,” Finally you continue.

“Nothing’s going to change that.”

He was keeping the mask on for you, but you want to let him know he doesn’t have to.

You love him as he is.

“I love you too.”

Another kiss.

This time initiated by Brahms himself.

He’s already hard from before, as are you, and so after the kisses, the reassurance, he wastes no time in rolling on top of you.

“Is...this alright?” He asks, lining up with your entrance, just as he had in the kitchen.

“Mhm.” You nod panting, reaching down to stroke your cock only to have your hand batted away by Brahms, who takes you into his hand himself, giving a slow stroke in time with his gentle first thrust inside you.

With your hands free thanks to Brahms you use one to pull him close, hooked around his neck as the other rubs his chest.

So big, broad, masculine, and hairy, like Brahms himself.

You love it.

Just like you love him .

He’s waiting for you to give him confirmation, that you’ve adjusted, that you’re ready for him to move.

Your hand curls against his hairy chest as you find yourself quickly wanting more.

“Move.”

It’s sudden.

“Please, more.”

Brahms doesn’t need to be told twice, although he’s still gentle at first. Gentle until you’re throwing your hips back against his, bucking into his hand.

The gentle administrations now are so different from before, downstairs, but it’s nice, no, wonderful, in its own right.

While you moan Brahms’ name and ask him for more, he grunts and pants almost silently above you, only occasionally giving you words of praise, saying that he loves you, that he loves being with you.

A kiss ends your kisses, now muffled by Brahms’ mouth as his hand strokes you, thumb rubbing the head of your cock and pushing you closer to the edge.

He hits your prostate, and that’s the end of that.

The moan that leaves your throat is eaten by the kiss, but your cum fills his hand, and stains your chest as you shudder with pleasure.

Brahms only manages a few more thrusts of his own before spilling inside of you.

You’re hot, sticky, and satisfied.

“I’ll...have to change the sheets,” You say dumbly as Brahms finally pulls out.

There’s only a few moments of noncontact as Brahms pulls out, and makes himself comfortable in bed. As soon as that’s finished he’s pulling you to him and on your side, spooning you lovingly, beard tickling the back of your neck.

All you need is to catch your breath.

After that you know there’s still things you and Brahms need to talk about.

You need to talk about what happened with the role play.

You need to make sure there’s no doubt in Brahms’ mind that you’re not mad at him.

“It’s fine,”

Brahms makes a soft noise into your neck. It’s clear he doesn’t really believe you, and so you continue.

“I just thought it would be fun, it’s not serious.” You continue, pressing your back more against him.

The whole concept of it all is kind of funny, in retrospect.

“It was just a fantasy...you know?” You feel Brahms shift before the gentle feeling of lips pressing into your shoulders and neck.

“I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t.

Brahms was capable of hurting people.

He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both.

But he’d never hurt you.

You have the utmost faith in him.

“But it’s hard to not think about, knowing you were in the walls for so long...watching.”

Brahms makes a soft hum into your neck. He still doesn’t really get it, and you can’t say you blame him, despite your best efforts to explain the kink.

“It’s not important.”

You reiterate, “I love you, and I’m not mad.”

More nuzzles into your back, and more tickles from the beard rubbing against your neck.

The affection hopefully means that Brahms is feeling better, less guilty about what he believes to be him ruining the night.  

“Safe words are there for both of us.”

Next time you’ll both be more prepared.

Maybe this happening was a good thing.

“If something was wrong, if you felt uncomfortable with it, or if I did...Or if either of us just wanted to stop...That’s why they’re there.”

“Right, but I…” “No,” You don’t let him finish whatever self depreciation he was starting with.

“Don’t start with that,” You wiggle and squirm your way into facing Brahms.

He’s bashful. It’s cute.

Although he stares back at you, you can see the color in his cheeks, and the uncertainty in his eyes.

“If things were reversed, would you be angry at me for stopping?”

His eyes widen just a little, and you see him shake his head quickly.

“Of course not…”

Even today he’d stopped because he’d truly believed your performance. He thought you were scared, or hurting, and he couldn’t continue without confirmation you were really okay.

So...naturally…

He would never be upset if you needed, or wanted to stop.

That’s kind of what makes it click in his mind, guilt dissipating.

“So you don’t hate me?” Now that he’s feeling more confident it’s asked mainly in jest, a small smile on his face.

“No, I don’t hate you.”

Getting up from the bed you offer a hand to him.

“Come on, we both need a bath.”

It’s true, you can feel cum starting to drip down your ass and onto your thighs.

Brahms nods.

Really, you don’t have to tell him twice.

He doesn’t like being dirty.

His time in the walls, before you knew he was there, before he was able to move around the house freely, shower freely, was hell.

The water begins to fill the tub as Brahms goes through the cabinets looking for something, bubbles.

You raise an eyebrow as he brings the bottle over, grinning a bit childishly.

“Bubbles?”

He nods, undeterred by your skepticism.

“Bubbles are romantic.”

That’s…

Well you can’t argue with that.

Pink liquid pours into the tub below, and the water becomes soapy, full of bubbles.

A sweet smell has begun to take over the bathroom.

“Brahms!”

Water splashes to the floor as he enters the tub, laying back, and making himself comfortable.

“What?” He doesn’t seem to mind the fact he’d just made a wet mess.

You roll your eyes.

It’s all you can do.

After all more water begins spilling from the tub as you enter yourself, getting comfortable before you’re forcibly pulled to Brahms’ chest.

“Hey!” You pout up at him. “I was comfortable.”

You’re comfortable like this too; back pressed against Brahms’ hairy chest, while his arms hold you gently but firmly.

It’s nice, you could fall asleep here like this, in a warm embrace, in warm bubbly water.

“Do you still love me?”

Brahms is resting his chin on your head, not looking at you, but straight ahead as he holds you.

The question takes you a bit by surprise, but you just lean more into his hold.

“With all my heart Brahms, with all my heart.”

[dekalko-mania]

Things That Lurk in the Dark (Pt. 2) 

Amity changed the day the portal opened, in more ways than one.

(Read part one here)

....

Vlad had resigned himself to an evening of prep work, monotonous planning and continuous meetings with Amity officials aware of their...dilemma. What he had not expected, or rather, what he had been hoping to avoid, was an interruption in the form of a teenage brat with a flair for heroics. 

In the middle of what was surely an important conversation with the APPD chief of police (he was honestly only lending his partial attention), he found himself sighing at the crash of a piece of priceless furniture. Honestly, that boy had to work on his landings. 

“Was that your cat, Mayor Masters?” Chief Bryans raised a brow at the stomps that followed the commotion. 

Vlad huffed, internally affronted. His Maddie was much more well-mannered than that. “I’m afraid it’s a rather unwelcome visitor.”

Sure enough, his common room doors were soon slammed against the wall, revealing a fuming Phantom. Completely ignoring the other’s presence, he flew the rest of the way over to Vlad, fists trembling with barely-contained rage. 

“You.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to go through the door? Not forgetting your powers again, are you?”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me? This whole time I thought I was losing my shit, but I was right!” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you said Phantom declined to help?” Chief Bryans cut in through the middle of their stand off, eyes flickering between the two of them. 

“You said what!” 

Vlad scowled, eyes flashing over to the policeman. What a nuisance, he had completely forgotten he was still there. With only a subtle narrowing of the eyes, he summoned a duplicate to appear behind him, commanding the other to overshadow the man’s body and place him in a trance. 

Once finished, he focused his attention back on his rival, words laced with irritation. “This is bigger than you, Daniel. Had you known, you would’ve gone in there yourself like the fool you are.”

Choosing to not say anything about his distaste of overshadowing for now, Danny scoffed. “So, what? You planned to send in innocent people when you knew the one most qualified to handle this situation was me?” 

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself so much.” Vlad stood, reaching over to a worryingly packed folder and shoving it into Danny’s arms. “Look at this, dozens of victims and you really think you couldn’t have been one of them? What would Maddie think, hm? Finding her son among the list?” 

“Stop it, I know what you’re doing and I’m not buying it!” Danny dropped the folder back onto the table, already knowing its contents by heart, blaming himself for having not done anything sooner. “You manipulate people, it’s what you do. You act like you care, when all you want is credit for solving the problem without me."

Vlad scoffed, "I understand there's been a history of pranks among us, Daniel, and maybe that gave you the impression that I'm one for playground antics." He pointed over to Chief Bryan. "But something they don't know, something your own parents don't know, is that Phantom is not as free of fault as he thinks he is."

"What?" Danny's eyes flashed. "You're saying I'm involved somehow?"

"Oh no," Vlad grinned, sitting back down, an air of arrogance mixing with his anger. "I'm saying you're the cause of it. Your ectosignature reeks throughout the reserve. Whatever is inside, it's calling for you. But shame on me for wanting to keep you from entering an obvious trap."

“But I didn’t...” Danny paused, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I didn’t do anything. And none of my enemies has this much power, unless-”

“Unless it’s someone new,” Vlad interrupted. “That’s what I believe as well. And you’re mistaken to think you haven’t done anything. Think about it, when did this all begin, hm? What prompted such a drastic change to the city?” 

Danny took a moment to wonder, going over the strange occurrences he had seen, when they first began. What could possibly have caused such a radical shift?  When was the first time he doubted himself and his perception of reality? It was probably around his freshmen year when he noticed it, the sky having momentarily seemed to glitch one day on his way home. It could only have been for half a second, happening around the time when he had still not gotten fully accustomed to his powers. He had been gazing out the school bus window by coincidence, right around the time when...

“The portal.” He realized, breath catching in his throat. “It was the portal.” 

“Exactly,” Vlad grinned. “I mean, what did you think? That ripping a hole into another dimension wouldn’t have its consequences?” 

“I didn’t exactly think about that, it was an accident.” It was true. Danny never planned to open the portal himself, not at that moment. He had only wanted to explore it, to see if maybe he could point his parents in the right direction. He never thought that an experiment in his basement would cause so much grief. 

“Of course you didn’t think, you’re a child. And children shouldn’t be involved in things they know nothing about.” Vlad’s tone was nothing short of condescending. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let your nosey little self anywhere near the reserve. 

You had no idea what you were doing back in college either, Danny wanted to snap back. Instead, he took his victory for what it was, knowing it was over from the minute he discovered the truth. 

“Which means you know you have no choice but to let me go.”

“Unfortunately,” Vlad sighed, summoning his clone back, and waiting as Chief Bryans blinked himself back into awareness. 

The officer glanced around the room, eyes falling onto Danny’s much more relaxed form. “I’m sorry, I think I zoned out for a bit. What were we talking about?”

“It seems there was a misunderstanding,” Vlad drawled. “Phantom’s hero complex is as strong as ever. He’ll be joining our raid tonight.”

....

To say that his parents were not pleased to see him was an understatement. He had arrived with Vlad and Chief Bryans, having taken the rest of the day to catch up on the plan. According to the chief, they had decided to first send his parents and smaller ghost hunters into the area, accompanied by a squad of officers armed with ectoweapons. 

There was a rough map of the reserve, littered with marks detailing emergency evacuations and possible things that may go wrong. From what Danny could gather, it had been a shoot first and ask questions later approach, his least favorite tactic. Vlad himself seemed opposed to it as well, knowing from his past conniving ways that matters were made better in one’s favor with patience. 

It took a bit of convincing, but Danny had managed to alter it so that he made the first attempt. If he went in and failed to resolve the problem, he would begrudgingly step back and allow them to take over. It had added pressure, but made him all the more determined to end the issue once and for all. 

What he had not counted on was the opposition of anyone outside Chief Bryans, a dumb assumption now that he thought back on it. As he sat still, letting an officer fit him with a set of Fenton phones and various gadgets, he couldn’t help but to notice the scathing glares being sent his way by his mom. 

Out of both Fentons, she was the most angered by his presence, refusing to place the set on him herself. “Unless it’s to study it, I’m not getting closer than I have to be.” 

He had to convince himself that he was used to it, ignoring the sting he’d felt at her words. 

Officer Perkins stepped back, nodding when he saw the gear was a good fit. “Alright, we weren’t counting on someone going in alone, so we’re going to need you to narrate what you see when you’re inside. That alright?” 

Danny nodded, taking the opportunity to avoid his parents’ gaze. Perkins was a much more comforting presence to him, resembling how he imagined Tucker would look like when older, minus the sometimes cocky attitude. 

“Are the, um, the families going to arrive? To listen in.” 

“The families of the victims you mean?” At Danny’s nod, Perkins frowned. “I guess they didn’t tell you, no one remembers that they’re missing.They did, at first, that’s how we got the news. But once they’ve alerted us it’s like they forget.”

“But wouldn’t they notice if they never came home?” Danny frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. There had to have been an Amber Alert or something to remind them.” 

Danny recalled that some of the victims were kids. Surely their parents would’ve noticed their disappearance, or at least been reminded of it when the officers went to update them. 

“We’ve tried sending them out, hell, we’ve even tried to put up signs and post it on social media. Somehow the texts never send, or the flyers disappear. Shit’s weird.” He sighed. “They think their kid is at a sleepover, or that their wife is out visiting her mom. For some reason they forget, but we remember.” 

Danny bit his lip, stewing over what Vlad had said earlier in the day. 

“What would Maddie think, hm? Finding her son among the list?”

If he went in and never came out, would his family forget his disappearance too? Would Sam, Tucker, and Valerie not even realize that he was gone? 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you,” Maddie cut in, momentarily catching him off guard. “I’m sure there’s no one out here that would’ve noticed you gone anyway.” 

Danny’s expression must’ve showed how painful the statement was to hear, because Officer Perkins immediately rounded on the couple. 

“Is this how you talk to someone who’s trying to help?” 

“Excuse me? Help?” Maddie frowned. “Ghosts don’t help because they care about people, it’s self-interest. He definitely has an ulterior motive.” 

Before Perkins could intervene any further, Danny smirked, shoving aside his feelings for an undeterred facade. 

“Don’t bother with them, they’re in their own world.” He met his parent’s gaze head on. “Probably wouldn’t even notice if their own kids disappeared in there.” 

He knew he went too far when both Fentons had their guns pointed at him, so quick that Officer Perkins stepped back in shock. Still, he refused to budge, knowing that anything they said would hurt him more than a few shots. Somehow, that angered them even further, his dad’s glare intensifying as he stared him down. 

“Listen, spook, you don’t know us as parents. So either you shut up or I’ll-”

“Geez, getting a little defensive aren’t you.” Danny released a humorless laugh. “Guess I hit a nerve.”

He leaned forward, placing his head mere inches away from their weapons. 

“Tell me, did you even bother checking if they were home before coming?”

He could see the moment it dawned them that they hadn’t, his mom’s gun dropping by an inch. A sense of guilty satisfaction filled him, knowing that despite them being the threat in the situation, he had the upper hand. He would regret it later, he knew it, but somewhere along the way of becoming Phantom, it grew more difficult for him to compartmentalize his interactions with his parents. 

Hard to be a good son when one second he was being held in a containment device, and the next found himself pressed tight against his mother’s side. 

The tension was cut through with a loud sigh, Vlad and Chief Bryans suddenly standing at the entrance of their tent. “Officer Perkins, I left you here to control the situation, not stand there gawking.” 

Embarrassment marring his features, Perkins placed himself in between the two parties. “Chief Bryans is right, we can settle this later. The truth of the matter is, Phantom’s here to help, same as you. So let’s focus on the raid for now, I’m sure your children are fine. You can call them if that’ll help.” 

Danny saw the uncertainty in his parents’ eyes, worrying for a second that they would do exactly that, before seeing determination settle in his dad's gaze.

“No, it’s fine. It’s too late for them to be out anyway.” He grunted. 

Danny scoffed, knowing they just didn’t want him to think he’s correct. Figures they would put their pride first. Without anything more to say, he stood, floating over to the two men. 

“If that’s settled, are we ready to go?"

Vlad grinned, doing very little to hide his amusement with Danny's predicament. "We've finished the final preparations, yes. All we need is your approval and we’ll get into position.” 

Danny nodded, looking over to the Fentons. “You ready?”

His parents’ scowls eased into quiet discontent, guns placed back into their holsters. 

“Well then,” Vlad said, holding open the tent flap. “Lead the way.” 

....

Danny had only gotten about a five minute walk into the reserve when he noticed the increase in supernatural activity. While Amity had bore many hints of it, the incidents were ones that left him second guessing himself, occurring so abruptly that they could be attributed to an overactive imagination. In there, following along the path of the main river, he struggled to find anything that wasn't out of place.

The first thing he'd noticed was the faint green glow surrounding the place, catching it even in the bits of sky he saw beyond the tree branches. It was as if someone had placed a filter over the entire area, having it resemble a darker version of Skulker's lair.

To his left and across the river, he swore he could see the occasional silhouette, figures peering at him from a safe distance. He wasn't yet sure if they were afraid or curious, but he hadn't gotten close enough to find out. Whoever they were, they weren't the missing people he was searching for. Even without the handheld radar he'd been given, his ghost sense was strong enough to tell that they were supernatural.

“Do you see anything?” Chief Bryan’s voice asked over the Fenton Phones. 

Danny imagined them as they were when he’d left, squads assembled on the outskirts of the forest, while the main group of leaders were hunched over a desk of equipment in their tent. They were unable to get footage, but the verbal descriptions and data sent back from his gear was enough to maintain their attention. 

He perused his environment, eyeing the various blob ghosts and unnatural bugs floating in his vicinity. “Nothing new, same as before. You?”

“Our readings are the same,” his dad’s voice responded. “Higher ectoplasmic levels than usual, but not too alarming. Can you describe the area again?” 

Danny sighed, raising a finger and providing a perch for a small blob. “Other than my little ghost friend here, it’s mostly the same. There’s more trees, I guess. They’ve got these weird jags on their surface, like someone ran their nails down them. “ He shivered at the thought, looking over to the river. “The water here’s frozen over, but the temperature inside is low so it makes sense. And along the side there’s...”

Danny froze, sentence left unfinished.

“Phantom?”

He placed the small ghost on a nearby log, slowly approaching the river edge. “There’s a crack in the ice. I think it’s coming towards me.”

Sure enough, the jagged line ended directly in front of him. He debated whether he should step back, but decided not to move when he saw the fractures branching off into multiple ones. The quiet was replaced with sharp noises and the thumping of something in the water. Danny leaned down, fists raising in case he needed to blast an attacker. 

The glow from his fists provided just enough light to see the appearance of a webbed hand pressing against the ice. Slowly, he moved closer, flinching when he saw a face just behind it. As if pleased that they’d been noticed, the creature pushed themselves into an area they’d be more visible, rapping their knuckles lightly on the film above them. 

“There’s a girl here,” he realized. “She wants me to get her out.”

“Is it one of the victims?” Maddie asked.

“No, she looks like some kind of mermaid.” Danny placed his hand on the shadow of hers, noting a trail of bubbles escaping her lips as she giggled.

“Leave it then. We need to find the victims, get out of there.”

Ignoring her, Danny put his other hand onto the surface as well, summoning the powers from his cold core so that he could spread the fissures further. When he felt it was enough, he pushed down gently against the ice, breaking it apart so that there was a large open space available. 

Slowly, a head of midnight blue hair broke through the surface, cyan face peering at him from beneath soaked bangs. She opened her mouth, once, twice, seemingly unable to utter a word, and then gave up in favor of reaching out to poke his face. 

Danny remained still, confused as the girl gaped at him in awe. Once she seemed to regain her bearings, he felt her grab each of his arms, mischievous smile being his only warning before he was yanked into the river. 

He struggled, shutting his mouth tightly on instinct as he was surrounded by what to anyone else would be dangerously cold levels of freezing water. Despite his attempts at breaking free, the girl’s grip was strong, and something about her kept him from going intangible. Try as he might, this was her territory, and he was weak to do anything but be dragged further down. 

Be still. Trust.

Knowing he had no choice, he let himself go limp, thankful that his ghost form didn’t need to breathe. By now, he could feel the pressure that the deep water bore onto him, shoulders feeling heavy as he was forced further down. He knew it was just uncomfortable, that he would be fine, but the dark water underneath him killed any enthusiasm to go deeper.

Too much, He thought. I’m gonna be crushed.

As abruptly as he was pulled in, he felt himself skidding to a halt, a wave of apology sent in his direction. 

Forgive. Mistake. Wait here. 

Releasing her grip, the girl gave Danny one final meaningful squeeze on the shoulder. Deciding he wouldn’t leave, she swam down past where the glow from the forest above could illuminate, disappearing completely out of sight. 

As he floated there, left completely to his own devices, Danny scoped his surroundings, thinking it strange how a river could bare such a resemblance to the bottom of the sea. From just beyond him, he could see jagged rocks lining its sides, some looking as if they had engravings made along their surface. Had he not been told to stay where he was, he would’ve loved to trace his hands along them. 

What caught his attention the most though, now that he’d gained his bearings enough to notice it, were the glowing dots interspersed throughout the water. If he was on dry land, he would’ve thought they were fireflies, an abnormal amount for the season. He was so entranced, it took him a second to notice that the girl was swimming her way back up, accompanied by an older woman. 

Taking in her appearance, he saw that she was much older and wore a long gown that went past the length of her legs. On her head, she had a dainty crown, circular and bearing engravings similar to those on the walls. With an expression matching the awed one the girl had worn previously, she placed her hands on either side of his face and smiled. 

Halfa. He said you would come. 

Someone expected me?

So it was true, there was a ghost within the reserve that wanted him there. 

Yes. You will see soon. The woman reached over to the girl, pulling her forward. My daughter, I told her to wait. You arrived. She brought you to me.

Hands practically shaking with anticipation, the girl pulled a tiny stone box from within her robes and handed it to Danny. Sensing that the gesture had importance, he took it from her politely, sending a thank you in her direction. Their demeanors remained encouraging, inviting him to look inside. 

When he did, he saw that there was a ring made of black obsidian to match the woman’s crown. On it was carved an image detailing symbols that resembled the shape of water and a moon. Though it wasn’t flashy as ghostly artifacts tended to be, he could feel power pulsating from within it, fingers tingling where it touched him.

For you. Our king. Our people. With you. 

Unsure what to say, Danny sent them another thank you, promising to take care of it. The choice of words struck him as odd, but he figured that it was similar to how Frostbite called him Great One. It didn’t mean anything, it was simply a show of gratitude. For what, he wasn’t sure. 

My daughter, can accompany you to surface. 

Suddenly remembering what he had followed her for in the first place, Danny shook his head. The reserve was huge, and it would take him much longer to find the lost citizens. If anyone knew where everything was, it would be those who inhabited it. 

Actually, have you seen other humans come in here recently? They never came back out.

The woman and girl exchanged a meaningful look. 

They sleep. On surface, I take. 

Squeezing her daughter’s shoulder, the queen bowed at Danny and made her leave. He sent her one of his own, surprised when he turned to see the girl already waiting ahead of him. 

Sensing his shock, she smirked. 

Catch up, King. 

With all the speed he could muster underwater, Danny swam, just barely maintaining his speed beside her. As they swam, he took note of his environment, in case anything of value appeared for him to report. Thankfully, the Fenton Phones were waterproof, but they were still too low for the signal to reach. 

He wasn’t looking forward to the ear full he would get when it returned.

My name, Kara. 

Danny felt shame rising within him at realizing that he hadn’t even thought to ask the girl her name before. Grinning sheepishly, he let her know he liked to be called Danny. 

Danny? Strange for King. King Phantom, okay?

Figuring it wouldn’t make a difference, he shrugged, again feeling put off by the royal title. Before he could ask, Kara took a sudden sharp turn upward, heading towards a patch of light in the distance. His legs would be burning after this, that he knew. 

Once he broke through, just a few seconds behind, Danny blanked. “What is this?”

Ahead of him stood a giant structure resembling a Greek temple, though it was black instead of white. Along its steps were stoic skeletal guards, donning armored uniforms and staring straight at them with glowing red eyes. The white light that they’d followed came from the gardens leading up to the structure, vanishing when it got too close, as if swallowed by the building. 

People inside. He waits. 

As if sensing that her explanation was not comforting enough, Kara bumped gently against his shoulder. 

They live. Avoid attack. Go in. 

Releasing a heavy sigh, Danny pulled himself out from the water, eyeing the temple one more time, before turning to give his goodbye. 

“Thank you, really. And for the gift too.”

Bowing her head, Kara smiled. Nothing to thank. Meet again. 

Seeing her vanish below the surface, Danny steeled himself, floating closer as he pressed a hand to the phones. “Hello, anybody hear me?”

When he was met with static, he decided communication could wait. He had made it clear that no move would be made until he had made his attempt. And besides, something told him that this was a part of the journey he had to take alone. 

Making sure that he wouldn’t be affected by deadly plants, he kept his distance from either side of him, staying directly in the middle of the path. Strangely, most of the vegetation consisted of large pomegranate trees, an unnaturally red kind that seemed to pulsate in temptation. 

From past experience with Undergrowth, he’d learned to remain cautious, and kept that attitude as he approached the steps. Out of all the reactions he’d expected from the guards, having them kneel before him in unison was not one of them. 

“Um, you really don’t have to do that,” He tried. “A ‘come inside’ would’ve been enough.”

Realizing it wouldn’t make any difference, he decided to float by, wary for any signs of malice. They didn’t move an inch, seeming to view him with some level of respect. The whole situation was weird, nothing going the way he prepared for. It wasn’t a level of welcome he was accustomed to with the supernatural, making him all the more apprehensive for who exactly was waiting for him.

His worry rose as he arrived at the entrance, both guards on either side opening the set of giant wooden doors for him, before taking the same position as their comrades. 

“What’s going on...” 

He had only a moment to calm his racing heart, doors crashing shut behind him. The room was easily shrouded in darkness, torches along the walls providing very little visibility with their misty green appearance. He couldn’t stop the shiver racing up his spine as the shadows melded into nearly physical shapes, unable to focus on any one image with the amount of anxiety that replaced his determination.

The point of no return, he thought. This is what this feels like.

His fear escalated as he quickly realized that his powers were not cooperating, light refusing to appear on the palms of his hands. Even his glow was dampened, nothing appearing to relieve him of the absolute darkness. 

With nothing to help him, he couldn’t stop his breaths from coming in rapidly, his Phantom form doing little to quell his rising panic. This was a mistake, coming to this place while aware that many couldn’t escape, it was wrong. 

“Shit,” he whispered, trembling fingers yanking at his hair. The pain only barely kept him cognizant, all other thoughts melding into mush. “C-calm down. You’ve faced worse. Calm down, calm down...”

 “My presence tends to make humans uneasy. Though, I would expect a future king to display his fear more honorably.”

Danny’s head shot up, latching onto the voice for something to focus on. Vision still not its best, he could only make out the silhouette of a bare throne, large and gnarled in design. Everything else was a washed out black, glints of stone shining at odd intervals. 

“Good, it seems purpose grounds you. Come forward.” 

Clenching his hands, Danny approached the misshapen figure ahead of him, stopping just before it. Most beings he knew were protective of their possessions, to a deadly point. He was not keen on testing whichever presence was in the room.

“Sit.”

He followed the voice’s command, holding back a groan at the sheer intensity of pressure crushing his core. Here, the dread was at its highest point, despair absolutely consuming him, darkness seeming to seep into him from his very pores. He closed his eyes, knowing that the dimness of his eyelids would be nothing in comparison to what surrounded him. 

He was met with a sight he had not anticipated, confusion flooding him when he found himself inside the unopened portal in his lab. Ahead were him, Tucker and Sam, frozen as they stared off inside the gaping void. Inspecting the other version of himself, he saw familiar black gloves over a white jumpsuit. 

“I’m...back in time?”

“Not quite.” The deep voice echoed, detached from any particular location. “We are in a memory. Events from the day we met have been suppressed in your mind.” 

“So you want me to, recreate it?”

The sound of cracking of bones and crackling electricity played in Danny’s ear, a reminder of just how painful dying could be. He remembered the soreness in his throat that lingered for days after, made due to the force of his screams. From there, that was all he remembered, skipping forward to when he woke up in his friends’ arms. 

“As I said, it’s only a memory. Yours is tainted, so I decided to show you through mine. Now, close your eyes and listen. I will tell you when to open them.”

Understanding dawning on him, Danny did just that, grateful that the man was not so cruel as to force him to watch his own body seizing in midair. The feeling had been awful enough, but to see it front row would have been even worse.

“I’ve always wanted to go in here.” His own voice said, continuing off where the scene began. “Who knows what awesome, super cool things are on the other side of that portal?” 

The quiet padding of feet got closer, every sound amplified within the tunnel, before getting cut off by a scuffle and a yelp. There was a click and a whirring began building, increasing and soon joined by an excruciating scream. It was the same one he heard when doing his signature wail, haunting him even after he’d survived. 

Even through shut lids, he could see the green blaze, stopping only when the howl was replaced with the sound of running water and the shriek of crows. He felt a nudge on his side, a signal that he could look. 

The area confirmed that the man was telling the truth, a sense of familiarity greeting him when he saw his slightly younger self standing beside an elder and a small, beat up boat.  He could only tell he was older because of his hunch and wrinkled hands clutching onto a paddle. The rest of him was covered by a black cloak. From the looks of it, he was engaged in a heated discussion with past Danny. 

“I feel...empty.” Danny stared at the figure with a forlorn expression, as if desperately hoping he could fix the torn up, hollow sensation in his chest.

“Of course you feel empty!” He waved in Danny’s direction, distaste tinging his voice. “My purpose is to lead the dead across this river, and your soul has not even properly moved on!” 

“I don’t...” He clutched tighter onto his suit, still fuming from the accident.

“Is that Death?” Danny could not help but ask. 

An amused chuckle negated his question. “No, Death was only with you at the moment of your passing. This is Charon, she brought you to him.”

“Look child, I don’t have time for explanations. I have other actually dead souls to cross.” He reached out a hand, motion more gentle than his gruff tone. “Get in, I’ll take you to the boss.” 

Danny slid his hand into Charon’s, scene switching the moment he made contact. 

They were standing in a throne room, this one putting the one back in Amity to shame. It resembled a darker version of Olympus, akin to the old paintings depicting it that he’d seen in class. The skeletal guards were inside this one as well, hidden along the walls in the spaces between gigantic corinthian columns. 

At the very end sat a huge man, face obscured by darkness and black robes shifting as if trapping lost souls. Beneath his throne stood Danny, arms wrapped tight around his midsection, while Charon finished explaining the situation next to him. 

Once done, the large man finally spoke. “You were right to bring him. He does not belong here.” 

“Wait, is that you? Does that mean you’re-”

“You humans have decided to call me Hades, yes, ruler of the underworld and what not. We have met before, once, in this memory. You do not recall it, but I remember very well.” His aura communicated amusement to Danny. “How could I ever forget, a child challenging me to a fight for his life. You were lucky that half your soul was still anchored to the earth.”

“Still, I have yet to decide how to handle this situation,” Hades commented. “This is the second time this has occurred. We can’t keep sending them back.”

As if waking from a dream, Danny’s eyes suddenly filled with anger, shoulders straightening despite still being obviously disoriented. “Obviously you let me go back to Amity. You said it yourself, and I can feel it. I’m not whole, I’m stuck there!”

“And who do you think you are? Telling me what to do?” A gust of wind shoved Danny to the floor. “I should dump you in Tartarus for daring to challenge me.”

“Challenge you?” Danny forced himself back up, glare stubbornly fixed on his face. “If you want a real challenge, then I’ll-I’ll fight you!”

Danny cringed, feeling worse than when his mom sent Sam home with a mug of himself as a baby. “I really said that?”

“Yes you were quite upset at me. Reckless thing you were, but I let you return. According to the rules governing the dead, you still had half a life to live.”

In their moments of brief conversation, several events had transpired, mainly Danny’s appeal as to why he would not allow himself to die. In the end, Hades deemed it a situation too bothersome to dwell on, deciding that the child technically did not meet the criteria to be there.

“I will send you home.” Sensing Danny’s relief, he held up a hand. “But I warn you, you will be considered a halfa, an abomination to both mankind and the spirits of the dead. Abominations do not typically have happy endings.”

“What do you mean a halfa? Is something going to happen to me?” 

“Not now, but just know that when you truly pass, you will never be able to come back. Either you stay and pass on as half a soul, or you become one again, and be doomed to forever wandering the earth alone.” 

Their setting reverted back to Danny’s basement, the moment where he was first reborn as Phantom.

“As you can see, your choice was obvious.”

If Danny had a physical form to view this in, he would have been shaking. He’d been living his life completely unaware of his fate, worrying over the ghosts, the pressure, his home and school life without knowing that the torment would continue even after he passed. 

“So this is why you brought me here?” His voice wavered. “To remind me that I’ll never find any peace?”

“Actually, I had planned to keep that fact hidden until your day arrived. I’m not as cruel as my brothers or you humans seem to believe.” His voice lowered, edging on a whisper. “There was a turn of events I had not foreseen. A change of fate perhaps only Clockwork knew of.”

Their vision began clouding with bursts of color, a tugging sensation dragging Danny’s consciousness through time and space.  It was like space mountain, the ride he had forced himself to go on in his childhood, only it came to a much more sudden halt. 

Clad in his father’s energy draining invention, Danny pressed against the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He feared he wouldn’t last, that the fight would have been in vain, were in not for a hand appearing and suddenly locking the coffin closed. When he knew it was safe enough to drop his guard, he turned to see all his enemies standing behind him in solidarity. 

They had stopped Pariah Dark’s vicious reign for good. 

“Although the other ghosts allied with you, you were the one that ultimately defeated Pariah Dark. You had secured your spot as next in line to be King of Ghosts. The realm between the living and the afterlife has experienced chaos for far too long, and it has finally come to an end with you.”

“Wait,” Danny balked. “So Kara and the queen...they were being serious when they called me that? But I’m just a kid! I wasn’t even given a choice!”

“You have a choice, don’t be haste. As for being a child, well...”

Scenes of Danny’s many fights played in a quick sequence, from his very early fumbles with the lunch lady, to his most recent and much cleaner fights with Freakshow and Undergrowth. He played through sleepless nights, and days where he felt like giving up, trapped in lockers by bullies, or looked at in disappointment by his parents.  

It was disconcerting to know his life was under constant watch.

“I would say you’ve dealt with what’s been thrown your way pretty well for your age. The underwater kingdom has already pledged their allegiance to you, have even begun calling you king when you are still but a prince. Countless others wait to do the same.” 

“You said I can choose not to be one though.” Danny returned to his previous concern. “What happens then?”

“To your life, nothing really. You live your days the same as you were,” Hades responded. “But know that as a prince you are granted a luxury you had not had before. You may choose your court. If they agree, they can spend their afterlife with you ruling the zone.”

“I won’t be stuck here alone?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“If those you decide on agree, then indeed. They will be granted a place in your keep. I must say, being King of Ghosts is a much more fulfilling endeavor than wandering on your own.” 

Danny bit his lip, eyeing the scenes still going on around him. “Do I have to decide this now?”

“What a convenient question, it brings us to our next topic of importance.”

Amity Park, in its days of small town glory, grew around them. To their left was a farmers market, people dressed in attire from the 80s flitting in between each stand. Behind a stall of oranges was a couple kissing, leaning against a black motorcycle. 

“I want be your girl forever, you know that Johnny?” A whisper spilled between kisses. 

“Only if I can be your guy,” the boy smiled, cupping his partner’s face. “Until the end of time.”

“Is that...” Danny choked. “I didn’t know they weren’t that old. They would’ve been my teacher’s age.”

“This is the same day they passed, a motorcycle accident. You would think they would’ve been limited to one place, or completely trapped in the zone, but your home is strange.” A breeze blew across the image. “Watch.”

“Ember said this is the last chance we have to come here, grab one thing and let’s go!”

“Wait, I think I see my old guitar up there, lemme just-” Johnny’s ghostly form flew up towards a shelf, grasping onto a leather case. “I missed this thing.”

“Johnny!” Kitty tapped her foot impatiently, glancing nervously over at a whirlpool of green in the corner of the dusty attic. 

“Alright, alright” He dusted himself off. “I’m comin’.”

Back in his own body, Danny gasped, sensation of being dumped in cold water shocking him awake. He was back in the reserve, sitting atop a throne in an eerie chamber. He didn’t know what to make of the final vision, except for confusion at the fact that natural portals existed in Amity long before the Fentons had interfered. 

“So Amity hasn’t been normal this entire time?”

“As much as hundreds of years. The supernatural has been attracted to this area, and it has grown over the ages. It’s been a gradual process, with the boundary separating the zone and Amity growing smaller.” A pause. “But ever since that portal was built, it’s been sped up. There’s only a handful of years left until it spills over completely.” 

“So this really is my fault?” Again, Vlad’s words blared mockingly in his head.

“The opposite really. Had the portal been opened without anything to stabilize it, reality would have collapsed in on itself. As it is, it had a host.” A chuckle. “You were quite the conductor.”

Danny couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped him at the odd interjection of a dark joke. He had to hand it to the man, he knew how to meet Danny’s humor halfway.

“To answer your final question,” He continued. “You have until the Ghost Zone melds with Amity to decide whether you shall be king. If you decide you are not the one, the crown will choose the next candidate. The King of Ghosts shall work closely with me to ensure a smooth transition of dimensions. Choose wisely, prince.” 

Without a further explanation, the lights in the hallway flashed, building melting around him to reveal what the reserve must have looked like prior to Hades’ arrival. The greenery that had once been there was back to being regular oak trees, with the occasional large shrub. In the distance, he could see shapes interspersed beneath a wooden canopy, moving slowly to sit up. 

As he approached, Danny realized that they were the people who had gotten lost in the reserve, looking unharmed and rather sleepy. The nearest to him gasped when she saw him standing on the very edge of their group. 

“Phantom?” She wiped at a red stain on the corner of her lip, shoving another young boy next to her. “Ross, get up, it’s Phantom!” 

Danny knelt down, bracing a hand on the boy’s back so that he could straighten himself out. “Hey, are you alright? Do you remember anything?”

Apparently in too much awe to speak, Ross simply stared at him, muttering a quiet “cool” under his breath. Taking the lead, the girl rolled her eyes and answered instead. 

“Sorry about that, he’s a huge superhero fan. My name is Jenny by the way.” She waved at herself and then Ross. “Me and my friend snuck out here last night ‘cause we heard this place was haunted. It was pretty spooky, but all I really remember was grabbing a pomegranate from a nearby tree and knocking out.” 

“Why’re you here? I mean, not like it’s a bad thing!” Ross said, panicked. “It’s just, is this like part of your lair or something?”

“Stupid, lairs are in the ghost zone,” Jenny cut in.

Unsure how to best phrase it, Danny pointed over to the other people, some of which were eyeing him warily. Raising his voice, he decided to be blunt. “I’m here because you’ve been trapped here for days. There’s a whole rescue team waiting outside for you.”

“Days?” A middle aged woman in the crowd screamed. “But I don’t even remember knocking out!”

“I do,” answered a young man. “I would wake up every once in a while, but I wouldn’t be able to touch anything. It’s like I was stuck in between something.”

Leaving them to talk among themselves for a moment, Danny reached up and tapped at the Fenton Phones. “Hello? Can anybody hear me?”

A quiet sizzle of static filled his ears, before switching to the looming voice of Officer Bryans. “Phantom, what’s going on? We were just about to go in.”

“No need,” Danny replied, eyes flickering over to the group in relief. “They’re safe, we’ll be right out.”

...

The next day, Danny sat at the table pretending that the run down his parents gave him was new information. It was all stuff he knew, from Phantom showing up at the raid unprompted to how he’d come out with the group of missing persons fifteen minutes later. It had felt much longer to him, but he supposed that time ran differently when around Hades’ influence. 

At his father’s insistence that the ghost was not to be trusted, Jazz sent him a worried look. Shrugging it off, he let his father rant, knowing that his explanation of the events had sounded sketchy to both his parents.

“He said that some spook got lost and mistook the Amity Reserve as his domain,” Jack huffed, stabbing at his pile of pancakes. “I can’t believe the other officers fell for it. This whole town is going nuts over that ghost!”

“I know, honey” Maddie rubbed his back comfortingly. “But he did manage to get those people out safe so at least he did something useful. Anyway, I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner kids.”

“It’s alright,” Danny smiled, glancing over at Jazz so that she knew he was really okay. “I get it, top secret. We’ve kept our fair share too.”

“Still, I like there to be trust between us,” there was a momentary furrow between her brow, quickly exchanged for a more cheerful expression. “But forget about that for now, how have you two been? I know we’ve been pretty distant.”

“I got into the summer internship I applied for!” Jazz supplied.

As he listened to his sister go into detail about her future endeavors in psychology, Danny thought back to how starkly different the previous night had been. He’d expected a battle with fists, but was met with the offer of a new path he could take altogether. 

He was aware that he was the best person to deal with the chaos Amity would face during the merge. He knew the town like he knew the constellations in the sky, and with the help of his friend’s and family, he had managed to keep it out of harm’s way. Whether he was alone or not, he knew he would keep doing so as a ghost when he passed.

He leaned back, a painful tension welling in his chest as he considered a future in eternal isolation. He imagined fighting ghosts, only to return to an empty lair, and then stopped as he entertained the other option. 

Danny thought of settling truces, rather than fighting. Of being in a palace surrounded by those closest to him that had decided their fate was also tied to guiding the spirits of the dead. He could picture Jazz walking struggling ghosts through their pain and helping them move on, or Sam and Tucker trekking with him to undiscovered dimensions. 

As he inspected his parents’ enthusiastic responses, he could even hope that one day they would use their passion for the sciences to help unite ghosts and humans, rather than divide him. 

He closed his eyes, thinking back to the visitor that decided to appear in his dream last night. A sense of calm washed over him, knowing that although he was stripped of one option, he was left with many others. 

Maybe he couldn’t be an astronaut, but being King of Ghosts didn’t sound too bad either.

....

He dreamt of a farewell feast in a dark temple, ripe fruits and fresh meats placed before him on a rounded table. By his side was a broad, bearded man, extending a platter of cheeses to him with a grin. He reminded him of Clockwork, only with a much stranger mix of strictness and sly character.

“Are you still afraid of what lurks in the dark, my prince?”

“It reminds me of dying,” Danny answered, passing it along to a woman sitting on his other side. “That was what it was like, right?”

“What you experienced was only a small fraction of it. Had Charon taken you to your true destination, you would have seen. It could’ve been to see your God, or to be reborn. Maybe it would have been to an eternal nothing. Who's to say?”

“I’m guessing you know then?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t tell me?” 

“You will see one day. Why spoil the surprise? Just remember, whatever they are, your beliefs hold value. Death is a personal experience, I would know.” He winked, raising a goblet up to the other occupants. “Now, let’s celebrate to a peaceful reign.” 

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 6

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There were many reasons Hiyori and Yukine had been upset with Yato keeping his secrets. 

For one, they were dangerous to both him and the rest. Another was trust. That was something that bothered Yukine more than Hiyori; after all, she understood the many reasons why Yato didn’t tell them and she couldn’t blame him for it. But the reason that most upset Hiyori, was one that she had to face after he first disappeared.

Hiyori didn’t know Yato at all.

She knew nothing about him, couldn’t even take a guess as to where he would go. No favorite restaurant or bar, no other friends, no relaxing hobbies. And while there was once a time that wouldn’t have bothered Hiyori, that was no longer the case. Especially now, when they risked their lives for each other over and over.

Of course now, she knew more about him than anyone did. Yukine knew a lot but there were still aspects of Yato he didn’t understand yet. Yato had told them most of the important stuff, confirming or denying any questions or theories they had. But even so, Hiyori was just a speck. Just a sudden, minuscule existence in the grand scheme of the centuries of a god's life. Whether or not Yukine liked to think otherwise, there was no possible way for Yato to tell them about all his experiences in the one year he knew them. Considering they had trusted each other for less than that.

Unfortunately that didn’t change the fact that all those pieces, big and small, were a part of him. Parts that they-she- didn’t know. Yato was full of surprises and even though that was usually fun to experience, the distance between them didn’t become more apparent until right now. With Father being locked away in heaven, stuck in an immortal existence to keep Yato alive, the heavens ultimately proclaimed him dead in every other sense of the word. As such, his children were left in an odd sort of limbo between mourning and dealing with the aftermath of his punishment.

Since Nora was rightfully struggling with the adjustment, even though she had been living at Kofukus for the past couple months, most of the actual work had been left to Yato. He attended meetings in heaven, completed any paperwork, rounded up all the masks that escaped. He also located all of The Crafter’s storage houses, living spaces, and any other place he kept things for him or the masks. Heaven took care of most of it, preferring to keep his children away and out of suspicion; but Ameterasu left the fate of the main house to Yato. Out of either pity or consideration.

Originally, Yato and Nora were content to simply burn the estate house to the ground with all the contents and beasts inside. But Hiyori and the rest convinced them to at least look through it, saying it was okay to take the time instead of just cutting it off. In hindsight maybe the two didn’t want to go back to such a traumatic place (and maybe the others were just curious) but Hiyori could tell Yato had some longing to go there, safely. He and Nora had argued against anyone else going, even her and Yukine, but that opinion was ultimately swayed too. It was easier to do that nowadays, Yato wasn’t as stubborn as he used to be. Still bogged down by guilt of all kinds. But everyone promised the both of them they wouldn’t do or touch anything without permission and Yukine insisted on staying by Yato’s side.

That didn’t stop their jaws from dropping as they followed The Crafter’s children south along the coast and far up into the mountains. Yato and Nora decided to walk there, out of habit, and the rest had no choice but to do the same. An old stone staircase led from a small back road up into the trees. After about another mile, they met a driveway and a large bamboo fence. It was old, but clearly still used and well maintained. The height wasn’t anything extravagant- Hiyori knew she was the only one that couldn’t leap over it- but the large chains that crossed over the entrance warded others to stay away.

They waited patiently for Nora to unlock it before the doors swung open and they were met with a beautiful front yard and house. It wasn’t extravagant by any means but the yard was well kept with hydrangea bushes lining the fence and white pebbles accenting most of the plants and house. The house itself was rather grand. Far too nice for someone like Yato but everyone had the sense not to comment on it. The estate was very old fashioned, a traditional Japanese style with two floors and probably an attic. The white building had long hallways sticking off either side and thin wooden slats covering all the windows. They were the same dark wood as the naked support beams around the outside of the house and matched nicely with the dark pointed roof.

In fact the only “crafter” thing about the house was the handful of masks that slept in the front yard. Three of them looked like large deer, that raised their heads at the intruders but did nothing more. Some smaller ones skittered under the porch while two wolves dashed out to see the new guests, happy to finally see members of the family. With one nod from Yato and Nora, Bishamon dispelled these rather peaceful creatures. Hiyori didn’t try to think about it too much.

Nora unlocked the front door, sliding the wooden door open and letting the group into the mud room. For a moment everyone stood, unsure if they were supposed to take off their shoes, but when neither of The Crafter’s children did, they didn’t either. Down the hall to the left was the living room, straight ahead was the hallway and kitchen, and to the right were stairs to go up. Wordlessly, everyone separated and got to work. Since Yukine stayed with Yato, following him to the back of the house and down the right hallway to The Crafter’s workspace, Hiyori stayed with Nora in the kitchen. It was just as old as the rest of the house, mostly running on fire and various stone appliances.

“If you want to go with him, you can,” Nora said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori jolted and dropped the tied trash bag, trying and failing to hide the fact that her thoughts were now upstairs. Nora didn’t say anything more, just leveled Hiyori with a polite but challenging look. Hiyori swallowed and looked down, attempting to hide her blush. There was no point in denying it, everyone in this house knew- and saw- that there was something between them.

“Hey Nora?” Kofuku peaked her head in the kitchen with Daikoku, Bishamon, and Kazuma over her shoulder, “we finished with the left side of the house. Except for Tenjin and Mayu who are still in the library. What else should we do?”

“If you walk straight out the back for a little less than a mile there is a holy spring. In the stream leading to it is a fruit net and laundry. There is also a garage in the back with Father’s sport’s car and Yato’s motorcycle. You can probably get rid of all the tools or something,” Nora said. There was another moment of stunned silence, something that has happened a lot since coming here, but everyone quickly delegated the work and left. Hiyori took a moment to drag the trash bags to the pile set neatly outfront on the porch before coming back. Before Yato agreed to let them come in, even with the promise they would not question or disobey his orders, he laid down several ground rules. One of which was that gods must always travel with their shinki, even from room to room. Apparently there were still masks that hid in the walls as security and Yato wasn’t sure how’d they act without their master. This was also the reason no one was to make any loud noises, or a ton of sudden movements. It was no wonder Yato and Nora were such naturally quiet people.

“I just- I don’t,” Hiyori started. She was cut off by Nora’s sigh as she worked to tape a box of glassware shut.

“Hiyori, I’m fine,” Nora stated, “this is my home. I’m not like Yato where I view this as a scary place, this is where I would go to feel safe and comfortable. It’s sad to see it go but this is hardly the first time we’ve moved. They’re just things.” The girl spoke as simply as ever, lifting the box and setting it atop the others for someone stronger to put in the mover’s truck one of Bishamon’s shinki drove. Ebisu offered to have a yard sale of The Crafter’s belongings after thoroughly cleansing them. He was planning on giving the money to Yato, who offered it to Kofuku, who decided to put it in a savings account for family emergencies.

“I know and that’s great. I just don’t want you to be alone, you know?”

“Then I’ll join Tenjin in Father’s study. We’re just about done here anyway,” Nora stood and wiped her hands on her hips. The cabinets in the kitchen were empty, the oven was cleaned out of wood and charcoal, and the floors were swept clean. Without another word, Hiyori opening and shutting her mouth, Nora left the room like a ghost. A shiver immediately ran up her spine and Hiyori’s fists squeezed. She couldn’t run, afterall she just got her tail fixed but still wasn’t able to leave her body, so there was no reason for her to go antagonizing phantoms. Down the hall and up the stairs Hiyori was stuck between two bedrooms. Fearing the thought of walking into the wrong one, Hiyori waited and listened.

“Isn’t this room bigger than ours?” Yukine said.

“Not quite but almost. I usually shared it with Nora.” Came Yato’s reply.

“All I’m saying is that this isn’t what I expected someone like you to have.” Despite the bratty tone, Hiyori could tell Yukine wasn’t angry. Nor was he blaming his dad. It sounded more like he was trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s because I don’t. This isn’t my house,” Yato muttered, “and I never wanted any of my shinki to come anywhere near this place. Especially you.” His voice was muffled from behind the door that Hiyori awkwardly faced. She didn’t want to walk in on one of their moments, they needed that, but she wanted to make sure Yato wasn’t pouting.

“I know.” Yukine finally mumbled, dropping the facade he tried to wear. It was more Yato’s thing than his, Yukine could only ever wear his heart on his sleeve. She could sense the tension on the other side of the door and Hiyori knew she had to step in. Besides, she didn’t like having her back to the bedroom of that wretched man. The door slid open and Hiyori readied herself to settle messy emotions only to see Yukine giving Yato an awkward side hug, both of them crouching on the floor. Their heads were pressed together as Yukine rubbed Yato’s back up and down. Suddenly the blonde’s head popped up and looked at her.

“Hiyori,” Yukine said. It took a moment for Yato to raise his head and look over his shoulder. He wasn’t crying, he hardly even looked upset, but he did have that look in his eye. The one where he blamed himself for bringing some sort of misfortune on them.

“Hey ‘yori,” Yato gave her a smile, “Yukine’s being a good kiddo and guide. Makin’ sure I’m doin’ alright.” The two separated as she walked in. She smiled at Yukine’s blush.

“That’s wonderful. I just came up here to see if you needed help. We just finished the kitchen.” Hiyori said as she knelt down. On the far wall were two large closets, the right one Yatos, the left one Noras, above was more storage that they seemed to make little use of save for some awards. In between the two closets was a mirror and vanity with hairbrushes and hair accessories. In front of Yato was a box of kimonos, the closet was open to reveal he had about four left to fold. They were all plain, just various colors of white, black, and blue. There was one green but it seemed barely worn.

“What about Nora?” Yukine asked.

“She went to help Tenjin in the library. Bishamon and Kazuma finished with the music room and basement while Kofuku and Daikoku cleaned out the garage and all the bathrooms. Like you asked, none of us went into his room.” Hiyori relayed.

“Yeah, I think Nora wanted to do that. Leave it for last and all. Of course she’ll need Bishamon or Tenjin with her just to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Yato muttered as he folded the last of his clothes.

“There’s still the, uh, attic. But other than that everything is done.” Hiyori felt bad reminding the two of Yato’s deeds as a God of Calamity. The ceiling was filled with nothing but boxes of newspaper clippings and requests of those who’ve died by Yato’s sword. Hiyori didn’t want to go in there, yet another forgien aspect of Yato she didn’t want to know. Yukine paused his cleaning as Yato sighed.

“Forget it. There’s definitely nothing in there the heavens or anybody wants. We can just burn it as it is tomorrow,” Yato deadpanned, “unless you want to go look. It’s okay.”

“No,” Yukine said immediately without anger.

“No,” Hiyori said after, “it’s fine.” The room fell into a strange but comfortable silence as Hiyori put all the vanity stuff into a box and sealed it. She looked for something else to clean, knowing there was not much more to be done.

“Are you really going to get rid of all this stuff?” Hiyori asked as she scanned the room. Yato placed his box of clothes in a pile by the widow, stacked atop about five others, two of which had Nora’s name on them. All in all, this room, this house, was rather empty. It seemed Father was the only one with sentimental objects but even then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced. Save for a couple cringey family photos and mask research, there was nothing worth saving.

“Mm-Hmm,” Yato hummed. He took a moment to gather two boxes in his arms and jump out of the window then back. He fixed her with a smile that stalled her heart for a moment, it was soft but genuine, like the more they cleaned out of this house the clearer his mind became. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were swords of all sizes and some certificates. Hiyori got to work there, grabbing one of the flatter boxes.

“Like I said to Yukine, this isn’t my room, not really. There’s nothing here I need,” Yato walked up to her, “besides, I already have everything I want at Kofuku’s.” His smile was telling and Hiyori focused on his lips for longer than she was comfortable with admitting. Yes, her soul was fixed, with the help of a sun god and some magic peaches. But not before receiving a desperate kiss from a close friend who gave her a piece of himself to hold her together until they could get help. Red faced, Hiyori looked away as Yato got to work on the rest of Nora’s white, red, and pink patterned kimonos.

“Are you sure? I mean some of this stuff seems like you should keep it. They're your things.” Hiyori said, almost like a sad plea. In her hands were two very prestigious college degrees, one for art and one for math. Below them was a certificate for japanese calligraphy, an acceptance letter to a professional baseball team, and an invitation to the winter olympic qualifiers. What Hiyori said was true, they were unequivocally Yato’s possessions, things that were so painfully him and no one else's. Yet they were so forgien. Yato the vagrant didn’t keep things. Especially so neat and preserved like this. Nor did he try to do things the right way that involved paperwork.

“Yeah, I mean. They’re just pieces of paper, it’s not like getting rid of them will take away my talents. I hardly look at them anyway.” Yato waved her off. Before she could say anything more, Yato had finished the closets and leaped out the window. With a sigh Hiyori went to the other side of the room and picked up two traditional old swords and a violin, ready to move them towards the window.

“Ah! Ah! Wait!” Yukine scrambled from atop a step stool, “not those!”

“But Yato just said?”

“I know but those, uh, he said I could have those.” Embarrassed, Yukine took the objects from her arms and scuttled them back to the corner. Hiyori crept behind him and scanned the growing pile: two swords, three daggers, a couple of boxes, and a book that looked like a large photo album.

“What’s in those boxes?”

“Stuff from the wars,” Yato suddenly popped up behind her.

“Which ones?” Hiyori blinked.

“They’re kinda mixed,” he shrugged, “mostly metals and grimy uniforms, but the kid really wanted them so. You can take things too if you want. Though I still don’t understand why.” It was a sweet sentiment of Yukine but the concept was still strange. Yato didn’t offer things. Well, he did, but he never actually had the material things he tried to offer and would usually offer services or lip service. Hiyori wasn’t sure he liked this version of Yato. She didn’t hate it- this was part of him after all- but Hiyori couldn’t fit these images in with her picture of him. She worked to process it as the group cleaned out the rest of The Crafter’s house, the building not seeming any less empty.

Bishamon’s shinki started the journey to Ebisu’s shrine while she and Tenjin took the mask materials up to heaven, as ordered by Ameterasu. Nora offered to cook dinner, planning on spending a final night saying goodbye to the house, but Kofuku and Daikoku decided to head into town for food. That left just them, Yato’s immediate family and her. Hiyori didn’t want to spend any more time here than she needed to but she still refused Kofuku’s offer to take her. With Yukine and Nora silently prepping food in the kitchen, Hiyori made her way through the back door where Yato had just finished chopping food. He didn’t look at her as she closed the sliding door and took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” She coaxed, arm already around his shoulders.

“Good,” Yato huffed a sigh, “I mean I’m not happy. Not upset either. Just here,” he shrugged. Then he turned those blue eyes on her.

“How about you? Are you okay?” He asked. That was more like him, to ask how others were feeling when he was the one with the problem.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said. His arm wrapped around her waist but before she could turn her blush on him, he buried his nose in her neck.

“It just doesn’t feel real, you know? I know he’s not dead, so it’s not over, but it just feels like it is?” Yato lowered his voice so the kids inside didn’t hear him worry over nothing. Those were reserved for Hiyori, just like her monologues were only for his ears.  

“A new beginning,” Hiyori offered. She felt him smile against her neck and Hiyori’s blush reached it. Out of habit, she held out her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.

“I have a new life now,” Yato mused, “hopefully one without him in it.”

“But with you still here,” Hiyori squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Haha, yeah. Of course. Me and you and Yukine, with a little less baggage.”

“Yato,” Hiyori sighed with a smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that simply cleaning out his father’s house was enough to make the emotional problems go away.

“I know,” Yato murmured. He nuzzled a little bit more, Hiyori waiting to rest her cheeks on his head. She stared at their hands with a soft smile, the feeling just as familiar as it was forgien. Hiyori came to the conclusion that she might not ever truly, fully, know Yato but that it wouldn’t stop her from loving him all the same.

“It’s a little bit of a shame though,” Hiyori said.

“Hmm?”

“Your stuff. This house. It’s almost like a waste.”

“Not a waste,” Yato said, “a new start. One with you in it.” The smile was evident in his voice and Hiyori could feel the steam rise off her face. She would never get used to such blatant flirting, especially when he grinned so charmingly at her from so close.

“But you’re welcome to take something. Something to remember me by.” Yato’s eyes drifted to her lips and back to her drooping eyes.

“You?” Hiyori said without thinking. Just as she leaned in for another precious kiss, Yato bursted out laughing, tips of his ears a bright red.

“As you wish!” Yato exulted. Hiyori was too lost in her embarrassment to look at him, not even when Yukine threw the kitchen door open to yell at his teasing master. There was still something there, something that overshadowed them with forbidding, but with Yato’s comforting laughter ringing throughout her bones, Hiyori knew they would be alright.

[deliontower]

someone you’d always known

Summary:  Bucky and y/n relationship didnt end well, after five months for not seeing each other  the walls break at Tony and Pepper anniversary party. Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word count: 2.2k Warnings: angst,  fluff, swearing, mention of pregnancy, messy break up and longing A/N: I have no self control with angst fics. Edited but might of missed some mistakes. Inspired by Epic III from Hadestown

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

Even after years of being an avengers, the morning meetings didn't get any easier.

This one was not going to be a fun one, just you and Steve were alone in the room.  You ran through everything you had done recently that could of gotten his attention, the only thing you could think of was how your relationship with Bucky was going or really the lack of relationship.  

Five months ago you had called it quits. Five months of missing him but not saying anything about it. You had only told the details to Wanda, you guessed Bucky had told Steve and maybe Sam.

"Steve, you're making me nervous. Can you just tell me why you wanted to see me?" you called out after a few minutes had passed in silence. Steve straightened his back and put on his 'cap face '. "that face doesn’t help", you wished you could joke but your nervous wouldn’t do it.

"I don’t mean to pry but I can see how hard both you and Buck are dealing with things". So you were right then.

"I don't know what he's told you-" you tried to defend yourself but Steve held his hand up. He was really in Cap mode now.

"That's the thing he hasn’t told me anything since the break up. But I've seen how you two are never in the same room and how you both try to be on missions as much as possible but never ones together".  

You couldn't meet his eyes too worried that if you did you'd break down and release everything you'd been holding in for months. "I still don't get why we needed a meeting to discuss my failed love life".    

"I want you to go on a mission" you looked up in shock, this wasn't what you expected. "It will last a year or move but it will give you both a chance to" he stopped trying to find the right words.

"get over it?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't want to use those words but yes. It's not the only reason, you're the best suited for the job and we need the best" Steve had circled the table so he could stand next to you.  

"a year is a long time" you muttered chewing your lip. The thought of being gone that long was scary, alone too.  

"Think about it. I think it would do you both some good" he patted your back before leaving you alone to think.

5 months ago

You sat anxiously on your bed with Bucky pasting behind you. Your legs were bouncing while for the rest of your life to be decided. You always hated test back in school, the never ending stress and the sleepless nights that would follow. One hand held the test, the other held flat against your stomach.

God you were ready for this, you hadn't even spoke to Bucky about the future and what his plans were. He hadn't spoken yet, whatever was going on in his mind was a mystery.  You wanted to scream at your past selves for being so stupid and saying "just risk it! It'll be fine". Taking a deep breath you looked down to see what your future would be.

Negative.  

You dropped the test to the floor in shock, in relief. Bucky stopped and looked towards you waiting for the news.

"doll?"

"we're okay. I'm not pregnant". You stood up walked towards him smiling. You stopped close by him when you saw he wasn't as happy. "Buck?".

He scoffed stepping back away from you. " you don’t have to sound so happy about it". Not knowing what to say you just watched as he walked by you picking up the test you had left lying on the floor.  "did having my kid sound that bad?".

You scoffed this time, "Really?".

It looked like he was walking twice as fast than normal when he walked up to you, maybe he did.  Your eyes went down to the test in his hand. "can you even imagine it? Growing old? Having a family with me? Because I do".

You shook your head wishing he would understand. "baby please. Having kids isn't something I want right now. Not with what we do".  The risk was to much to think about, the thought of leaving behind your children without the people who love them the most. Growing up parentless yourself taught you how hard it was.

"Tony and Pepper do just fine" Bucky fought back.

Rolling your eyes you hold a hand up. "It's not the same and you know it". Fighting back tears you look away. "Why are we even talking about this now. We have years".

"maybe I don't want to wait years!" you were shocked when he yelled. Again you didn't know what to say, what could you say to make thing better now everything was out in the open.

You couldn’t look at him then, you didn’t want to see the rage in his eyes. "well then."

You knew there was no escaping Tony and Pepper's anniversary party, just the thought of seeing him was worrying. But when you did looked at him all you could feel was a deep distance longing. His long hair you would run your hands through was now cut short but your fingers still tingled with the memory.  Your whole body ached from the memory for him, all your cells cried out for him. Yet you stubborn heart wouldn't soothe the permeant aching. Closing your eyes you willed the old memories to go away.

Five months of not seeing him felt like years now. Sometimes when you were walking around the tower you would catch his presence. His coffee cup still warm on the kitchen side. Sometimes his sweatshirts were left laying on the sofa, one time you lifted it up to your nose missing his smell but when you heard someone coming you dropped it and ran.  

He was only a few steps away but you didn't move. He didn't move or even look your way.  You missed his eyes, they were so blue. The sky seemed dimer now because it couldn't compare with them.

"you can go over to him" Wanda said from behind you. You took your eyes from Bucky to face her.

"He can't even look at me Wan" you voice wobbled. "I miss him so much but we just want different things". She pulled you in to a hug, hugging her back you let yourself go. "Maybe I should take Steve up on that mission", you muttered wiping away some tears.  

Tony tapping on his glass brought your attention to him, Pepper was by his side with Morgan in her arms. "thank you everyone for coming, even if some of you didn’t want too". Tony looked briefly over at you with a smirk.    He looked at Pepper and Morgan and his smirk changed in to a look for pure love. "Pep when I met you, I was a mess" everyone laughed along. " I don't know why but when I saw you, I felt like you were someone I had always known".

Unable to help yourself you looked over to help to Bucky who was looking at Tony too but his mind was somewhere else. You turned back to Tony.

"and when I hold you it feels like I'm holding the world.  When I hold our little girl the world seems bigger and smaller at the same time" he smiled and touched Morgan's cheek. "there are no words for what I feel when I'm with our family".

You could remember what that feeling was, to be so happy you couldn't find the words. Closing your eyes again against the tears you could still feel Bucky's arms wrapped around you, the cold metal and the warm skin making you feel at home. You opened them and let the tears fall down your face. You felt all your cells stop when you saw the blue eyes you had missed.

You didn’t know when he had started looking at you or why he had chosen to keep looking. Your heart wobbled when you thought maybe he was thinking the same thing, that he was missing you just as much.  You looked away first unable to feel his eyes on you anymore.

Muttering an excuse to Wanda you left the party, the closer the door got the harder it was to hold in the tears. You could still hear Tony speech in the background but the hard beating of your heart was louder.

When you were far enough away from the party and the people a sob left your lips. You covered your mouth with one hand and  pressed a hand on the corridor wall and stood there. More muffled cries left your lips.

You jumped when an arm turned you around, you jumped again when you looked down and saw the arm was metal. Still crying you tail your graze up his arm and to his face. You couldn't talk just let out unsteady breaths.

"Doll, what's wrong?" those blue eyes were covered in worry.

You tried to pull away shaking your head. "Please don't call me that", you throat hurt from crying. His worry changed to confusion and hurt. "i can't do this". You tried again to get away from him but you couldn't put any fight in to it.

"talk to me" he plead, he rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You looked away from him, hoping you would stay strong if you didn't look in his eyes. "Y/N".

"There's nothing to talk about anymore" you said quietly finally looking at him. "I can't be near you Bucky and i can't be away from you either! I can't do anything" you cried. After another sob you laid your head in the crook of his neck, more sobs left then they wouldn't be held anymore, gripping on to his shirt.

You felt his shaking arms wrap around you waist, lifting you face from his neck to read his face. You saw he was doing his best to hold in his own tears. He kissed your cheek and pulled away, "i love you", next he kissed your forehead "I love you" and finally he kissed your lips. But you didn't let him pull away, still gripping on to his shirt you pulled him closer. Marvelling in him, in his touch, in his smell, in everything he was and what he did to your heart.

"I love you" you muttered against his lips. Before he could speak again you pulled him back to your lips. Soft touches turned hungry, both of you were pulling and gripping on to each other. While your heart soared  it also hurt with the separation that would follow.

He stopped this time, you could see traces of your lipstick on his lips. He brushed an fallen strand of hair from your face, your skin ran warm when his hand stayed by your face. "I get what Stark was saying 'bout holding the whole world in his arms".

"Bucky" you sighed softly. He had been thinking what you had, felt the same aching from not having you close by. But things hadn't changed, you wanted different things. Shaking still you pushed yourself away from him. "I have a mission i need to get ready for". You spoke numbly, so numb Bucky was too shocked to follow you.

You didn't feel yourself, could only hear the noises coming from the party. Not even wanting to know what sate you were in, the only thing you could think about was finding Steve.

He was station at the bar with Sam, "Steve?" you called out. He was smiling before he faced you. You held your hand up so he wouldn't speak. "I'm okay, don't worry. I wanted to tell you that I'll do the mission. I can be ready first thing".

He scanned your face, it took everything to hold yourself together while he thought of something to say. "if you're sure".

"You were right. I need time away" you voice came out unsteady.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning"

Bucky couldn't process what had happened.

One minute he was in the heart of the party with Nat at his side, letting the words of Tony's speech wash over him. Then he spotted you across the room. E/C eyes closed with fresh tears falling down you cheeks. The words from Tony's speech were echoing in his mind.

All he could think about was how you used to feel in his arms. You always felt a small bird nesting in his arms. He was one of the rare people who saw you when everything was to much, he couldn't help but wonder who filled that part now.

Then you opened your eyes and more tears fell, when you saw he was looking right at you, it didn't take long for you to run from the room.  He found you pressed against a wall crying harder.  And you were once again that small bird in his arms, letting your walls down. For a moment he let himself think everything would be okay, he let himself imagine that when the morning came you would be in his arms still.

But you pulled away and left him with the hash truth. The truth hurt but it had to be said.  A day hadn't passed where he didn't regret what happened. If only he had been more understanding, five months for running over everything you said had finally become clear. But it had become clear to late, the damage had been done.

After clearing the flog in his mind he followed where you went, hoping he'd find you again pressed against a wall again holding in more tears. He found Steve instead walking towards him. "Buck we need to talk".

"I need to find y/n first" Bucky tried to walk past him but Steve stopped him.

"i don't think it's a good idea bud, for either of you" Steve patted his friends back and lead them back to the party.

After a night mostly filled with more tears and sleepless hours, you stood in front of a jet watching kits and weapons be packed up. The single bag you could bring was also piled with everything. You had said a quick goodbye to Wanda the night before, letting everything out.

"got everything?" Steve asked from beside you watching everything be loaded.

"can't take much can I?" you laughed. You reached in your pocket and brought out an letter. "could you give this to Bucky? I don't have the guts to face him after last night".

It wasn't hard to imagine that Bucky would of told Steve about what happened. He'd seen two people he cared about hurt and couldn't do anything to help. "sure" he smiled folding the letter and slipping it in his own pocket.

You jumped up and hug in quickly, "see you in a year" .

Steve hugged you back and watched the jet set off. He hoped this idea was a good one, he just wanted them to be happy. When the jet was out of view he left to find Bucky to hand over your letter.  Choosing to let him read the letter alone, Steve pushes the letter under the door.

Bucky's tired eyes squinted his eyes at the piece of paper that had been pushed under his door, his heart froze when he saw you familiar writing.  His tired legs wobbled over to where it was carefully picking it up and opening it.

Bucky, I can't face you again. I think if i did I wouldn't leave and i need too. We both need time to heal, time to learn what we need. I wish we didn't end the way we did, i wish i had the courage to talk about it.

I can't say how much I've missed you. I knew last night would be hard, actually seeing you after months of catching nothing but hints of you. Small things no one else would. And when i was near you, taking you in with no limits was everything i wanted. I just can't look past what happened and how we don't want the same things.

Who knows maybe in a year or more we'll be good. Maybe I'll come back and be able to imagine a future of hope and not one of my fears.

Don't worry about waiting for me, if you find someone who makes you happy then be happy, i just want you to be happy.

I love you y/n  

No one heard much from you over the next 16 months, only updates on the mission. Bucky told no one but every night he would read and reread your letter, tracing the letters with his finger. He imagined you reading those words. He clung on to the last words, i love you. The last thing he said to you.

He worried about you even though he knew you would be okay. He had seen you fight before, seen the power you had. During nights he hardly slept and the times he did sleep he dreamt you were in his arms whispering sweet nothings while pressed against his chest. The times he didn't sleep he would walk around the tower trying to exhaust himself like now but this time was different.

As he walked down the halls he heard the hum of the lift, confused he waited to see who would be using it this late at night. Probably Bruce working on something in his lab. He started to turn away not feeling like talking but stopped in his tracks when someone spoke.

"Still got that shitty sleep schedule?" you chuckled. You voice was more happy than the last time he saw you. When he turned around his heart jumped. You were thinner that before but looked more alive.

"Doll" he thought you would turn away from the nickname like you did last time but your smile grew.

"You gonna just stand there or greet me? Been fighting my arse off for 16 months" you dropped your bag to the floor waiting for him. He didn't need to be asked twice before colliding in to you. You stumbled back with the weight of the super solider but held him closer to you. His head was tucked in to crook for your neck, you sighed and played with his hair. "I never told you I liked you new hair. I loved it long but this suits you better".

"Can't sleep without you" he muttered into your neck. You hummed still messing  with his hair. Lifting his face level with yours you traced his jawline. Hesitantly you pressed your lips on his cheek. When you pulled away he turned his head so he could get to your lips. A muffled breath sounded in the back of your throat in surprise . He worried you'd pull away but you kissed back, smiling against his lips.

You pulled back smiling, "take it you missed me".

"you have no idea how much" he smiled for the first time in what felt like years and held you closer not intending on letting you go again.  

[reeny-chan]

Sneak Peek at “The Last Hero of Eternia” Chapter 5

I’ve still got a bit of work to do on Chapter 5, but I wanted to share a sneak peak with you all. Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

“Hey, Catra,” Entrapta said. “Mind going to the engine room and helping Hordak? He hasn’t been feeling too well after the attack. I think he could really use some help, but I’m too busy here.”

Catra stared at her for a moment. Help Hordak? She’d been avoiding him for the past several months. Things hadn’t ended well between them, before Horde Prime’s arrival. 

“Catra?” Entrapta said.

“Uh, sure,” Catra said. “Yeah.” She glanced one more time at Adora, who had again taken to staring off to space, and then left the cockpit.

The walk through the corridor was quiet. The thrumming of the engine grew more pronounced as she continued aft. The floor, while still smooth, metallic, and cool under her soles, vibrated more significantly as she continued on. Near the engine room she crossed the smaller room, to her right, where she’d stayed the first time she’d been on this ship. After Adora and the others had rescued her from Horde Prime. It was that room where she had started, finally, to heal. It was that room where, for the first time in years, she and Adora had spent the night together, sleeping in the same bed.

Despite all the anger she’d felt, how betrayed she’d felt for so long over Adora abandoning their home, abandoning her - it was the first time in years she had actually felt some contentment.

When she refitted the ship, Entrapta had repurposed the room into equipment and tooling storage, and opened the wall between it and the engine room next door. She’d been a bit disappointed to find that out, even though a much more comfortable, if much cozier, room had been built for her and Adora to share, partitioned from the large dormitory located closer to the fore of the ship.

She continued past the room, and the memories it contained, to the engine room. The door opened, and inside she could see Hordak sitting at a control panel. It was a very unusual sight for her. She had never before seen Hordak sitting when he worked. Only when he had been on his throne. His back was to her.

“Um, hi,” she said. He did not look up. “Uh, Entrapta says you need some help?”

He stopped what he was doing and turned his head slightly to the side. She couldn’t see his eyes.

“The second fusible link in the thrust matrix has failed and needs replaced.”

“O - okay,” she said. “And...um...where-?”

“Other end of the room, on the wall. Three cylinders. One of them isn’t glowing. Twist it to remove it, and get a replacement from the storage room.”

“Yeah, okay, on it.”  She headed to the far end of the room, and just as he’d described, there were three cylinders, the diameter and length of each about the same as her torso, with metal caps on the end and a transparent glass-like material in the center. The two on the outside were glowing yellow, but the one in the middle was blinking, as if it were attempting to illuminate but failing.

She reached up, took hold of it with both hands, and attempted to twist it to the right. It wouldn’t budge. She tried a little harder, her hands squeaking against the transparent material, but it didn’t move.

“Other direction,” came Hordak’s voice, a growl that projected over the deep thrumming of the ship’s engine.

Right, she thought, rolling her eyes. You seem waaaay too busy to do this yourself. She took hold of it again and tried twisting it to the left. At first it didn’t move, but then she felt something click. It then turned easily - and almost immediately slipped out of its mounting. She caught it before it could fall, surprise at just how heavy it was. “G-got it,” she said. She set it gently down on the floor, wedging it next to some pipes so it wouldn’t roll away. She walked back toward Hordak. “And, um, where’s-?”

“That way,” Hordak said, pointing at the wall just past where he was seated. 

“Yeah.” She walked past him, opened the door to the storage room, and remembered that this was the room she’d been reminiscing about just a few minutes ago. It smelled differently than she remembered - like chemicals, and metal. None of the scent of her or Adora remained, not that it was surprising.

“Fusible link,” she muttered. “Where would Entrapta hide you?”

Of course, nothing was labeled. She assumed Entrapta had some kind of system of organization that made sense to her, much like her castle at Dryl, where to anyone else it was practically indecipherable.

It took her a good twenty minutes before she finally opened the correct cabinet and found two of the cylinders, standing upright, on an upper shelf. Of course. She looked around for something to stand on, found a white, metallic cube, and pushed it in front of the cabinet. She stood on it, reached up and grabbed one of the two cylinders, pulled the cylinder to her chest, and hugged it tightly as she could while she tried to step back down without breaking an ankle or her neck.

Back in the Engineering room she crossed behind a still-sitting and still-ignoring-her Hordak, made her way to the far end of the room, and gingerly set the cylinder in place of the old one. She had to twist and wiggle it several times until she found the proper orientation for it to slide into place. She twisted it to the right, and after a quarter-turn felt it click into place. It immediately lit up yellow, matching the two cylinders to either side almost perfectly.

“That’s done,” Catra said, rubbing her hands together as she returned to Hordak. 

He did not look at her when he spoke. “Are you simply going to leave the failed cylinder on the floor like so much garbage?”

“I - guess not?” Catra said. “Uh, where-?”

“Reclamation room,” Hordak said. “Other side of the corridor.”

She grimaced at the creature whom she had once served, and twice betrayed, before heading back to retrieve the dead cylinder. As she carried it out of the room she wondered why Hordak couldn’t be bothered to do this physical work. He had his exo suit, which she knew gave him incredible physical strength. Or was he just intentionally being an ass?

Not that she could blame him for that, of course, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.

The room that was apparently the “Reclamation room” was mostly empty, with just a few containers holding what looked like broken components, stripped bolts, and at least one small pile of tiny food wrappers. She hauled the cylinder to the corner, laid it down, and left the room. 

She started heading back to the engine room but stopped. Hordak was already on her nerves. She hadn’t been a fan of him joining them on their “road trip”, and even though that wasn’t what this was, it had so far proven to be every bit as awkward as she’d expected it to be.

She shook her head and sighed. “Be the bigger person,” her therapist had said. “It can be hard, sometimes feeling like the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but it will be worth it in the end.”

Then, of course, she remembered something else. She’d made a goal to herself to make amends with everyone she’d hurt. And while Hordak had done plenty of hurting to her, she had also hurt him. If she was serious about healing, about being a better person, she needed to do it completely.

Sighing, she opened the engine room door and walked up to Hordak.

“I have nothing else for you to do,” Hordak said, still not looking away from the holographic display in front of him. After a hesitation, “Thank you...for replacing the fusible link.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Catra said. She hovered there a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “Listen, Hordak…”

“I am far too busy to ‘chat’,” he said. “Yeah, I get that, but...I just gotta say something, then I’ll leave you alone. I - I’m sorry. For...a lot of things. For betraying you. For...what I did to Entrapta. For lying to you. I was-”

“I don’t need your apologies,” Hordak interrupted. He turned toward her, giving her what she could best describe as a sidelong glance with one of his red, glowing, pupil-less eyes. “Nor have I any desire for them. What’s done is done, and dwelling on it is pointless.”

That statement gave her a little hope...that is, until the next one dashed it.

“You proved to be disloyal, disrespectful, and an opportunist with no regard for your duties or your obligations. You lusted for power - my power, and then Horde Prime’s power, and only by the grace of your…friends’... actions were you protected from the consequences of that.”

His chair turned so he was facing her fully. “I tolerate your presence for Entrapta’s sake. For the sake of She-Ra, who saved my life when she could simply have obliterated me when she obliterated Horde Prime. But do not mistake my tolerance for acceptance. Or forgiveness.” He turned back to his display. “Now leave me be.”

Catra stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Of course, she’d known this could be a possibility. Her therapist had warned her it could be a possibility. But now, having just lived through it, after having put so much work into getting better, into being better…

She turned on a heel and left the engine room without a word. Her feet slapped a steady beat on the deck as she practically marched toward the front of the ship. When she reached the door to her and Adora’s cabin, though, she stopped. She turned to stare at it. The door was blank, with no markings, just like every other door on the ship. When they’d first talked about taking this ship on their “road trip”, she’d imagined herself scratching caricatures of herself and Adora into it, much like those she’d scratched into their old bunk back when they were cadets in the Horde. A caricature she’d destroyed out of anger when Adora first abandoned the Horde...abandoned Catra…

Part of her had hoped they would find it somewhere in the rubble of the old Horde headquarters when she and Adora had been leading the cleanup there. Unsurprisingly, it was either long gone, or someone else had scooped it up with all the rest of the debris and sent it to be recycled.

Whatever happened to that, she had Adora again. For the moment, though, that just didn’t give her the comfort she wanted it to. She opened the door and stood before the bed inside as the door hissed shut behind her. The room was spartan; only a bed and the trunk they’d hastily packed were there. The blank wall opposite the door could be made transparent so they could see outside the ship, but now it was solid, smooth, dreary gray. 

They would have probably taken more time to decorate the room before they went on their actual “road trip”. Decorated with what, she wasn’t sure, but anything would be better than the drab gray, featureless walls that right now echoed what she was feeling inside.

She sat down on the bed, legs curled up to her chest. She buried her face in her knees and, after all the hardships of the past few days, finally let herself break down and cry.

[whump-town]

Nation Of Two

(Hotchniss/Hotly, language warning)

(You can also read the full text here)

It’s no secret that Emily Prentiss and Aaron Hotchner make a great team. Nearly in sync in every way possible. To outfits and biology- it’s fairly uncommon to stumble upon two people who seem to share everything in common and yet nothing at all. Mild-mannered to a short fuse, wildly protective, and a force to be reckoned with and yet what had created those similarities could not separate them more.

At the same time, Morgan had never seen two people get under each other’s skin as often as those two. In one breath, they’re moving in tandem the next arguing over a cup of coffee. Communicating through a single glance shared across a busy room and then at each other’s throats.

Dave had just broken up one of their more heated arguments. Given the profanity riddled sarcastic retort Emily had thrown as a final blow, Morgan could make a fairly educated guess that they were arguing about the headache Hotch is attempting and failing to hide.

Arguments over injuries and ailments always procure the worst scenes. They get heated, worse so when Hotch is the injured party in their das reich der zwei. Their Nation of Two- the dream team, in it together till the end of the line. The line, of course, being injuries. They want to protect everyone and when that spotlight finds itself pointing at one of them, it creates a unique kind of challenge. 

A pain in the ass. 

“Reid,” Hotch’s rough baritone breaks through the precinct. “You’re with me,” he announces, his dark eyes purposely flicking to Prentiss. “We’re going to the dock.” 

Reid realizes he’s now been roped into this. Going with Hotch means he’s siding with Hotch and like a fool, he’s only got one option. He sets the marker in his hand down on the table and sends Rossi a panicked look- knowing he’s the only person who can help him at this point. 

The older man offers him a short shake of the head- great, he’s really screwed. 

Prentiss’ jaw clenches as she glares at Hotch, her fist clenched at her side. What point is he proving right now? Look at me, Aaron Hotchner, all buff and big because I’m going to get an ear infection going outside in the snow without any protection for my busted up ears! So manly, so cool.

Fuck him. 

She hopes he gets an ear infection, it would only serve him right. Asshole.

Picking up Reid’s discarded pen, she sets back to her work. At least this way one of them would be getting something done.

__________

“Hotch?”

The snow had started coming down harder once they got in the car. Reid had learned a long time ago that as sensible as his boss was, one of the largest mistakes you could make around him was getting in a car while the man was angry. And as worrisome as the car ride had been- the tall, lanky creature standing on the dock is shaping up to be worse. 

“FBI!”

Reid blinks, just watching in confusion, and fear as Hotch keeps his solid pace up. 

“Identify yourself.” No one’s supposed to be on that dock. Hence the yellow tape wrapped, practically, all the way around it. If he could see the tape through the snow then surely so could the figure.

Hotch comes to a staggering halt, fingers itching to draw his gun. 

“Step closer,” the figure shouts over the snow, “and I’ll slit this little bastards throat.”

A father-son duo… admittedly, Hotch wasn’t expecting this. “Just let him go,” Hotch replies, evenly. His hands raise, slowly, making sure everything stays just as it is. “We can talk- tell me your name?” The kid looks no older than sixteen and terrified. Trembling. 

“I'm not going to jail!” The man shouts, “those girls had it coming! They deserved it!” The father jerks the boy closer, his son’s body covering his. “Now, fuck off!” He pulls them closer to the edge.

Hotch’s heart is thundering in his chest, he’s really not in the mood to watch a father kill his son. “Just- Just-” he falters and that’s all it takes. Hotch shouts in horror as the father throws both himself and the son over the ledge. He’s aware of Reid shouting his name but he tears off for the desk. The whole way losing articles of clothing- his phone, his gun, his jacket-

The water hits like a punch, stealing the air from his lungs. He breaks the surface and his face burns from the freezing water and the wind. He shakes his hair out of his face, searching for blood or hair or- His eyes zero in on a small splash, a hand breaking the surface. 

He dives back under, muscles burning as he forces his way through the water. There’s a mass of murky movement, two bodies in motion. Hotch struggles to tell son from father for a moment- a moment too long. A hand reaches out and grabs his leg, puling him down too and he knows. 

With all the force he can manage he kicks down at the hand, a sickening water muffled snap coming to his ears. Hotch wraps his arms around the smaller figure, his lungs burning and body growing tired. He kicks them up but there are other limbs connecting with the soft tissues of his body. The cold has numbed his body and he doesn’t feel the pain that should be coordinated with those blows.

His head breaks the surface and all he feels is pain. Up his sides, in his lungs, and his face. “Stop-” his head goes back under the water, a wave knocking them back under and over. He has to fight harder to get them to the surface and the body in his arms turns limp- like a ragdoll.

This time Hotch’s head breaks the surface and there’s no pain. Just numb, soft cold. Hotch hooks his arm under the kid’s armpits, resting his head on Hotch’s chest. He lays on his back and starts to kick, starting the exhausting and long trip back to dry land. 

“I see him!” It’s Reid, his voice edged with panic. “Hotch! Keep swimming you’re almost there!”

A wave hits and Hotch is forced back under. His body stops fighting, for a moment his brain screams but his body just sinks. It’s not even a fight. The water stops feeling like water- it’s warm and… well, somethings just can’t be explained. His body is detached, his thoughts slowing. 

Jack-

The water fills his lungs and the blur of the world turns black.

Emily-

Sharp pain in his chest- 

Burning lungs, his eyes shoot open looking and seeing nothing. Water and stomach acid burning the back of his throat and on his back he chokes- the water starting to slip back down into his lungs when he’s seized by his belt and shirt sleeve, heaved up onto his side.

He gags, chest burning as water is forcibly removed from his lungs. He attempts to struggle away but it’s to no avail. His body is not responding. 

There are hands all over him, burning warmth spreading through his veins. Like lava. “Hello Agent,” an unfamiliar face greets. Hotch just stares at the other man as he’s vaguely aware of being laid on his back. A large hand cradling his neck. “Your friend told me dove in that water,” both men’s eyes wander to the dock and the waves crashing into it. “You suicidal or something,” the medic says with a shake of his head, “ or just stupid brave?”

The Emily in his head answers “stupid brave” but Hotch can’t manage anything more than a wheezing breath. It’s taking all he has to manage that. The medic keeps talking, going on about how Hotch is either crazy lucky or an unusually good swimmer. 

“Reid?” He croaks, his head feels heavy, wrong but he can see a familiar blur in a sea of red vehicles. How? How did he get out?

The medic stops his talking and frowns down at his patient. “Is that the scrawny one?” 

Hotch swallows thickly and nods.

The medic nods back, “he’s okay. Looks a bit like a drowned rat but he saved your ass.” He motions with his head to their left, just slightly up the bank. Reid is sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, a shock blanket around his shoulders. “He’s a tough kid, though.”

Hotch keeps his eyes locked on him, assessing the situation. Reid is stronger than he gives him credit for. 

A sudden weight is placed on the center of Hotch’s chest, a foot on his sternum. To his own ears his cry of pain is muffled. Vaguely, he’s aware of the sound of a monitor making frantic noises, the medic’s voice drowning in with it. Someone shouts his name but the black encroaching on his vision is too much. He succumbs to the lava in his veins. 

__________

Morgan knocks at the open door, hoping to draw Reid from his silence. “You okay, kid?” The nurse had said he was fine. They thought he was in shock but his core temperature hadn’t dropped that much thanks to the EMTs fast work at warming him up. That hadn’t spurred him to say anything though. 

He hasn’t said a word since they pulled him from Hotch.

Reid keeps rocking himself, knees tucked to his chest and arms around his shins. He’s still freezing and it’s all his fault. He should have been faster.

“Hotch!” The adrenaline is pumping back through Ried’s body, knees and hands shaking as he watches the waves hit the side of the dock but Hotch’s head doesn't come back up. There are no bubbles coming to the surface, no signs of a fight happening below the surface. “Hotch!”

It’s been a minute but when Hotch dove in he was under for nearly two. 

Seventy-six seconds.

Even if Hotch is a good swimmer-

Reid pulls his jacket off, stripping layers of clothing from his skin. This is such a bad idea. So bad. 911 has been called, back-up is on it’s way but that’s no good if Hotch drowns. 

“I hate this job,” he mumbles, staring into the water. “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! I hate it!” He tears into it, knowing that this is bigger than his slight aquaphobia and the freezing sting of the water on his skin. “Hotch!” He takes a deep breath and plunges into the water. 

It hurts. Burns. It’s like a thousand hypodermic needles kissing his skin. 

He pushes his hair from his face, scanning the water. Looking back to the dock he estimates he needs to go about five more feet to his right. Using long strokes he cuts through the choppy water, a wave hitting his face. He has to stop and recover, blinking the sting from his eyes. “Hotch!”

And it’s still freaking snowing. 

Reid is begging Hotch to pop up. To hear his deep voice berate Reid for getting wet too.

He hates this job.

Reid dives under the next wave, forcing his eyes to open under the water. He’s afraid to see what he’ll find. His fingertips hit something hard and covered- hair! Reid pushes himself down further, lungs burning but he’s found someone and he can’t come up yet. 

He wraps his arms around the trunk of the other person- his brain supplying Hotch was wearing a white buttoned down shirt and the hurt digging into his skin is blunt like a button. He kicks with all his might but the body- Hotch- doesn’t move. His lungs are under too much pressure and with a silent cry he kicks himself up the surface.

“Argh!” He screams into the air, lungs burning in an entirely new way. He takes two deep breaths, treading water to gather his breath. He can’t give up. He goes back down. His panic is driving his heart rate up, making his oxygen last in even shorter amounts. 

His hands connect and he has to remind himself to save the energy of being happy. ‘Come on’, he pleads. Reid tucks Hotch closer, one armed wrapped around his chest and the other extended above his head. Feeling for where the water breaks to air. 

Every muscle in his body is screaming. Lactic acid building up in his muscles and if he had the air to he’d scream in anguish. 

His fingers sting and with a new burst of energy Reid’s head emmerages from the water. He gasps for water, his cold cramped fingers losing their grip for just a fraction of a second. Hotch slips from his grasp but Reid’s scream is muffled by the waves crashing around them. 

They’re going to die and it’s his fault.

He’s crying, tears streaming down his numb cheeks. He has to stay level headed, he has to fight. 

That’s what Hotch would do.

Right, Hotch.

Reid pulls him closer, flipping him into the rescue position. Head above water, breathing or not- it has to be enough. Hotch won’t forgive him, ever, if Reid saves Hotch to leave behind that boy. A killer or not.

The water is well beyond cold enough to, hypothetically, protect from brain damage. 

Reid has to pray that's enough.

He goes back under. His lungs hurt nearly as soon as his head goes under, the cold water hitting his forehead is strangely… nice. The rest isn’t.

It’s harder. All of it. 

The current twists him, his muscles tired from swimming. If he can’t find this kid soon, they’re all going to drown. 

A wave above crashes hard, it’s force pushing him down. 

He sees nothing. 

It’s all just black and freezing. 

He kicks into something and whirls around, finding flesh and hair. Reid pulls but the kid doesn’t move. For a moment, Reid nearly leaves him. His lungs are burning, his body exhausted, and with a long fight still ahead… The bodies had hesitation marks. Shallow marks where someone young- someone incapable of murder had done as requestied but not whole heartidly.

The kid isn’t a murderer. 

Reid kicks upwards with all his might, his head feeling like it’s going to explode. 

He breaks the surface and could sob with relief at the sight of the shore lit up with emergency lights. “Help!” His voice croaks, breaking. There’s no way they can hear him. Reid pulls the kid so he’s on his back, just as he had Hotch, and begins to tug them both in the direction of Hotch’s freely floating body. “Help!”

He rolls onto his back, taking a wave to the face. He recovers quickly, a new surge of adrenaline working through him. His limbs are shaky but working. “Alright,” he says to himself, floating for a second to gain control. “Let’s do this.” He grabs the back of Hotch’s collar and the kid’s shirt and kicks with everything he’s got. Hoping that the waves hitting his face can push him towards the shore. 

“Kid-”

Reid flinches, his whole body recoiling. He blinks slowly raising his head in confusion. “M-Morgan?” He looks around him, surprised to find hospital tile and not the wet sand he’d left Hotch on. “What-” his mouth is impossibly dry, his body still cold. 

Morgan takes a step closer to him, weary. In nothing but a hospital gown and a pair of hospital socks Morgan can see his friend’s bony body. It’s no surprise he didn’t hold up well in the freezing water- he doesn’t have any fat on his body to keep him warm!

“I brought you some clothes,” Morgan lifts Reid’s bag up. He sets it down on the bed beside Reid, allowing him easy access to the clothes. What he’s not expecting is for Reid to start crying. For a moment he’s just struck, he has no idea what to do. He takes a tentative step closer, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Hey,” Morgan gathers him up in his arms, holding him close. “Kid, what the hell? What's wrong?”

Reid shakes his head, pushing his face into Morgan’s warmth. He just wants someone alive, someone warm to hold him. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. All he can think about is Hotch. “I tried, I did!” 

Morgan pats his back, “what do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Reid’s chest heaves, his sob taking him by surprise. “Hotch!”

“Oh,” Morgan pauses for a moment, not sure what all he should tell Reid. “Kid, Hotch is…” fine might be an overstatement. A little rough but- “Hotch is sitting down in the ICU with Emily, right now.” He rubs Reid’s back, shushing him gently. “Kid, he’s fine. Hotch is gonna be fine.” 

Reid pulls his head back, “what?”

That can’t be true. Reid saw. 

The EMT pulled the buttons on Hotch’s perfect white shirt open. His chest bare and unmoving, as pale as the snow under his back. CPR wasn’t working. Reid saw. His ribs were bending under each compression but nothing was working. 

He was dead. 

Reid saw. Hotch was dead.

__________

“We caught the pulmonary edema early,” the doctor promises them. His tone is light, hopeful. “He’s on a course of diuretics to clear his lungs and on oxygen until his stats come back up but he’s already doing much better.” He nods his head, clearly happy to give them a good prognosis. “There was some irritation in his right ear so I want to start him on a course of antibiotics for that, to get ahead of the ear infection.”

Emily snorts, both her hands coming up to cover her mouth but her shoulders are still shaking with the force of her laughter. It’s a horrible moment of reacting to news the wrong way but an ear infection? “I’m so sorry,” she manages to force her palm against her lips. Forcing her smile down. “I’m- I really am sorry for that I don’t-” 

The doctor holds his hand up in a clear sign of acknowledging her apology. “It’s perfectly fine,” he reassures her. “Everyone has different reactions to these sorts of things.” His smile is a strange mix of sadness and amusement as he recalls giving grimmer news than this to families and garnering a similar reaction. “I assure you, it’s not the first time someone’s laughed.”

Emily isn’t sure whether to feel reassured or sick. She lowers her hands and wipes at the bottoms of her eyes, beyond the point of caring if she looks like a raccoon or not. “Is he- Can you take me to him?”

The doctor looks at the little group behind her, all looking equally as eager to his patient. “It’s against protocol to let all of you back, yet, but I can let one of you back.” There was a name, someone Agent Hotchner had managed to call out for. “He was asking for a-a…” he can’t remember the name though. “An Emma or-”

“Emily.”

The doctor nods, “yes. He asked for Emily.”

“Well,” Emily looks back at the other’s. Swallowing the lump in her throat she says, “I’m Emily.”

The doctor claps his hands together, “well, then come with me.”

Emily looks back over her shoulder once- to JJ and Rossi being left behind in the waiting room- and offers them a small wave. Smiling sadly when they wave back.

“He was alert when I went in a few minutes ago,” the doctor tells her, coming to a sudden stop. “Try not to get him too worked up-”

She’s partially aware of what he’s saying from then on out but her attention is on the man on the bed. The man intently watching her from under the oxygen mask across the bridge of his nose. The doctor pats her shoulder, offering a smile and she nods and smiles back despite not having a clue what he’s just said.

Stepping into the room, she hesitates for only a moment before taking his hand and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Hey.” He’s cold to the touch and she sets to rubbing his fingers between her own to warm them up. “How do you feel?” With her distraction in place, it’s easier to ignore the obvious pain in her chest. Tight and wrong.

He’s too pale for even him, shivering under the layers of shock blankets and heating pads pressed around his body, but he offers her a warm smile. Reaching up with fingers that are still too cold to work properly, he fails to pull the mask from his face. She pulls it down for him, tucking it under his chin. 

“Hey,” his voice is weak, hoarse from disuse. “I got an ear infection,” he rasps at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

She keeps the mask pulled back for a moment longer, leaning in and kissing him tenderly. She runs the side of her finger along his jaw, clenching her teeth in a failed attempt to hold her tears at bay. Carefully, she places the mask back on his face. Feeling a sick twist in her stomach because she’s glad it drowns out the sound of his labored breathing. “Serves you right.” 

He smirks at her, a goofy lopsided little thing. Oxygen deprived or still cruising on his adrenaline high he says something, intangible between his slurred exhaustion and the hiss of the oxygen over his face. She makes just enough of it out to lift the mask back up and asks, “did you ask me if I’d still love you if you were deaf?”

It’s hardly the time to be having “would you still love me” hypotheticals when he’s hardly awake. Especially when his breathing is still so rough and if it gets any worse it’ll be her fault. Then she’ll have to kiss her visitor’s pass goodbye. Still, she can’t help but love him and his stupid questions.

He nods.

“I think so,” she places the mask back down. She runs her hands through his hair, smiling as he curls himself closer to her. “I mean, you don’t listen to me now, what would change?” She chuckles after she says it and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling at her. That’s when her chest gets tight, her emotions bubbling up as he frowns up at her with those big old sad eyes. 

She almost lost him. Permanently. This time there would be no Paris for recovery, Afghanistan for penance- just permanent goodbyes where the last things they said to one another were cruel misguided words. Things that didn’t matter because that’s how the world works. 

The credits cut before the movie’s over. 

Romeo and Juliet isn’t a love story.

And he dies on a dock. 

No more Sunday’s spent in his backyard. The two of them tangled in a hammock meant for one person. A book balanced on his chest, his voice a deep rumble and the only sound in the world- “ I had taught myself to covet nothing. It was not a loathing of death that froze me. I had taught myself to think of death as a friend. It was not heartbroken rage-” 

No one could properly replace him. 

She’d never felt this comfortable with another human being. To try on clothing, twirling in place to show him that it not only has pockets but it swishes when she moves. How many men would look up from whatever teen magazine quiz he was reading and raise an eyebrow in approval? Noting she also wouldn’t have to shave above her knee in it either. 

He pushes the mask away, twisting the flimsy plastic from his face. “Come here,” he manages, breathless. “Let me hold you.”

She’s momentarily adamant to get too close. He’s hurt and tired and- pulling her closer. “Fine but only for a minute,” she caves and she always caves when it comes to him. It takes a minute to work around the machines and the wires, then moving so she’s not laying on him. “I mean it, Aaron.” She tucks her head closer to his chest, breathing in the natural scent of him. Just Hotch.

“You scared us,” she whispers against his chest. 

She’s close enough now that he can smell her conditioner. “I scared myself.” It’s not like drowning was something he was looking to do. 

Emily looks up at him, turning her head on his shoulder. “Let’s not do that again then?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” his voice is rough again, breathing ragged. 

She reaches up and pulls the mask back over his face. Gently raking her nails through the hair at the side of his ears. “Get some sleep, huh?” He’s just a big softie and she knows that playing with his hair is going to put him out like a light. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” he mouths, eyes dropping already.

And how is she gonna say no? “Always,” she whispers. She holds him closer, scratching at his head. 

She’s waiting for his soft snore but now she wraps him up in her arms. Enjoying his proximity. He may be a stupid man but that’s what she signed up for.

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Reaching Out

Codywan 4+1, Angst edition 

Four times Cody felt Obi-Wan reach out to the Clones mind with the force, and one time Obi-Wan felt it slip away. (Order 66)

Alright here is the thing I was working on last night. It has been spell checked and my grammar shouldn’t be too bad. In hindsight this isn’t as good as I thought it was at midnight, but ain’t that just the way writing works? Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy it just the same!

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

1- In battle

The first time it happened, Cody had more pressing things to worry about, such as staying alive. He was, after all, in the middle of a firefight.

He had lost sight of the General some time ago, the Jedi disappearing in the mess and confusion of battle. The droids were numerous, far more then what they had expected for this campaign and much harder to get rid of then usual.

He’s taking cover behind a pile of debris, most likely a piece of a ceiling if the decorative patterns, half covered by dust, are any indication when it happens.

It feels unlike anything he has experienced before, and it's only looking back after the event that he's able to put any words to it at all. Like the setting sun, all golden and warm, if it were made into a blanket brushing over something deep inside of him. As quickly as the feeling comes, it vanishes, leaving him feeling odd. It's as if on some fundamental level the inherent shape of him has changed, both bigger and smaller.

A blaster bolt slamming into the concrete of his makeshift cover mere inches from his head draws Cody back into the fight and soon enough the strange occurrence pushed aside in favor of returning fire. Whatever it was, it doesn't happen again, and by the time he once again gets eyes on his Jedi, Cody has forgotten all about it.

2- In the mess hall

The next time it happens, Cody is in the mess hall eating the morning meal. It's nothing special, but its also not ration bars, and is therefore an improvement on any number of meals he has had to choke down in his admittedly short life. All around him his men and brothers are starting their day as well, some shuffle in a half-awake state, desperate for the morning cup of caff, others chat amongst themselves.

Cody nearly chokes on his food when the strange warm feeling brushes up against and invades his mind. His eyes water and his breathing goes a bit funny as he tries to clear his airway, and Cody would be damned if the sunny feeling doesn't seem to change in response. It becomes sharper, more focused, and the feeling of being enveloped become more intense. Whatever it is, it almost feels... concerned?

Someone thumps him on the back, and Cody's airway clears. The concerned edge to the intrusion in his mind lingers for a moment until seeming to sigh in relief and relaxing, making one last pass around the edge of his consciousness, all golden and comforting, before pulling away.

"You alright, Vod?" Rex asks as he takes a seat next to the other clone.

"Yeah," the darker haired clone responds after a moment’s hesitation. "Yeah, I'm good."

3- On the bridge

The third time it happens, Cody curses. Loudly.

The ship is under attack yet again, and just once Cody would like it if they could get through a battle without any major damage. Luck, unfortunately, does not appear to be on his side as yet another blow strikes against their forward shields. The whole ship rocks, and Cody grabs onto the holo table for stability, his eyes never once leaving the projected display of the battle that rages around them.

The feeling slams into his mind with all the finesse of a rancor and the curse that comes out of his mouth turns several heads. Where before the feeling had always been one of a calm soothing nature, this time it rages like a burning frost. It screams warning and caution and to move, force help him, move.

His mind comes to a conclusion in an instant, trusting this strange sensation for reasons he can't fully articulate except that it feels safe and familiar.

"GET DOWN!"

Without his helmet he must rely on his own voice to reach the men around him, and the command bellows out with as much authority as Cody can muster. The men scramble to comply just as another, more powerful, blast slams into their deflector shields. This time the shields fail, and Cody's head collides with the edge of the table before him. It's funny, but as his vision slowly goes dark, Cody would swear he could hear General Kenobi calling his name.

4 - In Medical

Consiousness returns slowly. It takes a few seconds before the events of the battle catch up with him, and when they do, Codys eyes fly open as he tries to push himself into a sitting position.

Mistake, that was a mistake.

Pain assaults his head at both the movement and the harsh white lighting of the med bay. He closes his eyes with a groan and lowers himself back down onto his pillows, mentally telling himself that if someone needs him, they know where to find him.

"Cody?"

A warm hand on one of his own draws the clones attention away from the pounding in his skull and Cody opens his eyes, more cautiously this time, and although his eyes are slits, Cody easily makes out the familiar face of his General.

"How do you feel?"

The pain medication he is on has left his mouth painfully dry so takes a second before Cody can get his mouth to cooperate with him, and when he does his voice is raspy from disuse.

"M fine, sir. Head hurts a bit thats s'all"

His words slur slightly in a way that Cody knows means he both has a concussion. This time when the sunny feeling comes, it's gentle. Like a cool washcloth being placed on his forehead. The pain behind his eye’s eases, and the light doesn't feel as harsh as it did a second ago. Cody sighs in relief turning his head slightly as if that will allow him greater contact with the non-existent sensation.

The presence seems to laugh, and Cody is aware of Obi-Wan beside him huffing quietly with amusement.

Suddenly, things click into place.

"Oh,"

Beside him, Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you're alright Commander."

Between the head trauma and the painkillers, thinking is hard, and words are even harder, but for Obi-Wan, Cody tries. With his free hand, the clone points to his head, squinting against the bright light and doing his best to make eye contact with the Jedi beside him.

"That's you. I wondered."

And because his mouth is no longer obeying him, he whispers "Feels nice."

Cody could be imagining the slight blush that dusts the Jedi's cheeks at the admission, but he's too tired to truly care.

Now that he knows the strange sensation is actually his Jedi and not some side effect from brain trauma, Cody takes the time to properly assesses the force presence. There is something quintessentially Obi-Wan about the way it feels, something in the cool brightness that reminds him of the breeze on a summer day.

He is almost asleep when something occurs to him.

"You've been checking in on me."

That time on the battlefield when they had lost contact with each other, on the bridge in the last battle when Obi-Wan had practically screamed warning in his ear. Even, Cody realizes, that time in the mess hall. In all cases the Jedi was checking in, either to see how he was doing or to make sure he was still alive.

The blush that now decorates the Jedi's face is unmistakable. For the life of him Cody can't figure out if the embarrassment is from being found out, or if the act itself is what the Jedi finds cringeworthy.

"Ah, yes, well... I should actually apologize for that."

"It's alright, sir. It was startling at first but now that I know it's you..." Cody shrugs as best he can given his circumstances, "Just warn a guy first, yeah?"

+1 (ANGST) As a stranger (order 66)

Astride Boga, Obi-Wan feels something shift in the force. It's a familiar, if nauseating feeling, one that he associates with danger and trouble. While the battle had been going well, with Grievous dead and a good chunk of the firing out of the way, Obi-Wan had been hoping that taking the rest of the planet would be simple. What's worse is where the force is telling him trouble is coming from. Not further ahead in the canyon where scores of droids wait, but from behind him.

Without hesitation, the Jedi reaches out in the force, searching for the ever-steady signature of his Commander. It's difficult at this distance to pinpoint the clone he wants, but Obi-Wan pushes through until at last he finds the man he is looking for.

His bond with Cody is a as strong as any force bond can be when only one half of the pair is force sensitive. Its tenuous, chaotic at the best of times, but a constant in the Jedi’s mind. It should be easy enough to reach out and check in on his commander, but something is resisting Obi-wan.

When he does find him, Obi-wan examines the force signature for any signs of distress and finds nothing. The clone feels like the warmth of sun baked earth with a touch of the sea, free from the sour tinge of injury. His relief at finding Cody alive and unharmed is short lived, as the clones force presence is violently shut away behind a durasteel mental shield. It’s as if everything that makes Cody unique is drained away by a strong vortex. What is left behind is hardly recognizable as the Commander.

He has just enough time for dread to fill him before the first canon blast slams into the stone next to him. Boga startles, and that more than anything spurs him into action. He spares one backward glance at where his men stand, flanking the canons. As he fly's away, the tattered mental bond echoes back a single phrase.

Execute Order Sixty-Six, six, six...

[shipmistress9]

Sex Toy Advent Calendar: Day 6: Purple U-shaped Vibe

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: E

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Words: 3130

Summary: Day 6 of the Sex Toy Advent Calendar. Today's toy makes up for any previous disappointment. And leaves Hiccup and Astrid eager for further explorations.

AN: I ran a bit into a wall with this one. At some point, I had to delete half of what I'd written for this chapter because it wasn't working, and then RL became pretty tough. Ah, well. At least it's finished now. And in the meantime, I had a lot of fun making notes for the future parts of this series. ^^

. o O o .

Today, it was Hiccup’s turn to be thrumming with anticipation as he and Astrid went to open today’s box. After yesterday's disappointment —though everything had turned out more than bearable in the end—her excitement had noticeably dampened. It wasn’t that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing what was in today’s box, but more that she'd lowered her expectations. Which was a shame, really. 

Hiccup didn’t know for sure which gift they got today. But he'd seen a rough overview of which toys would be in this calendar when he’d bought it, and… Well, the fact that there were two black boxes with the golden letters saying ‘six’ was giving away a lot, especially with the additional information printed on the smaller one in his hand. 

“So, what does it say there?” Astrid asked, eyeing the tiny box skeptically. 

“It says that we can use this charging cable for the boxes 6, 12, and 24,” he said smugly. Then he nodded at the other, slightly bigger box in her hands. “Don't you want to take a look?”

Astrid's mouth had turned into a perfect O, her eyes now alight with new excitement. The sight made Hiccup smile. She was so beautiful like this. With quick eager motions, she tore the box open and held up its content. 

“Okay, and what is this?”

“Well, it’s not a cock ring,” he replied in a light, teasing tone. 

Astrid regarded him with a flat stare.

Chuckling, Hiccup took the purple u-shaped device out of her hands. “It’s a vibrator, obviously. If I remember correctly, it’s called Double Joy. A fitting name, because, well, both sides have their use.” He pointed at the differing ‘arms’ of the U. “The thinner side here is meant to go inside you, while the thicker side with the flared and flattened shape here is supposed to cover your clit. Both sides vibrate, individually if you want. Also, the bit that goes inside you is so narrow that I should easily fit in as well. That way, we can both feel the vibrations and also each other, and your clit gets attention, too.”

Astrid’s lips twitched in amusement as she glanced at him. “Someone’s done his homework, as it seems,” she teased. Then her attention returned to the vibrator. “But I admit, this sounds interesting. Should we try it right away?”

Chuckling, Hiccup shook his head. He wasn’t surprised at her eagerness, not at all. It was Sunday, so they both were off work today and had the entire day for themselves. And, well, she was Astrid. 

But sadly, they would have to wait. “Remember this?” He held up the other box, the charging cable. “It has a build-in batterie and needs to charge first. Besides, there’s something else this thing can do, and I think you’re going to want and explore this option before we get started.” 

“Who says we can only use it once?” she asked, attempting to look innocent and failing spectacularly. “But okay, the charging is a valid argument. So let's get this connected, and then you can tell me aaaaaall about its other features.”

. o O o .

Astrid’s eyes were gleaming as she went through the app’s options. She was thrilled, just like Hiccup had expected. 

“Okay, this alone is worth getting this calender,” she proclaimed after a few minutes. “I can control both sides of the vibrator individually, right here in the app. Strength and rhythm, and…” she paused, her eyes growing wide. “Oooohh. I can even connect it to a playlist and it pulses along with the music?” She smirked at him. “We’re definitely going to try this!”

Having expected nothing else, Hiccup nodded, and then leaned in to show her another feature. “Then I hope you have a fitting playlist saved. Anyway, see this here? It’s a partner feature.”

She squinted at her display. “Okay? And what does it do?”

“Once paired with your phone, only you can control the vibrator. For safety. However, you can decide to temporarily give this control over to another specific app user. For example, we could go out with you wearing it, but I control it. It’s apparently extra silent, so nobody at a restaurant or at the cinema would hear it. Well, unless your moans grow too loud.” He threw her a cheeky smirk, but had to bite back a laugh at the dazed look on her face. Oh, she liked that idea, didn’t she? 

Hiccup felt smug, having found this toy and within the fun context of this calendar, no less. She’d voiced interest in such a toy every now and then, and he was sure that it would see plenty of use. 

Intent on teasing her further, he stepped behind her, hands on her hips and letting her feel how thinking about the possibilities didn’t leave him unaffected either. “You could also take it with you when you have to go on a business trip again,” he murmured against her neck. “And then you could allow me control over it when we video chat before going to sleep. I could make you come and watch you, even without being there.”

Astrid moan, and a shiver ran through her body. She leaned into him, her cute butt pressing at his growing erection. “That sounds intriguing,” she murmured.

“Or you could wear it when you go to work,” he went on, voice low and rough now. “I wouldn’t know what you’re doing or how aroused you already are, but I could keep playing with the control the entire day through. I wonder what your annoying co-worker would say if you interrupt another one of her self-praises with an orgasm.”

Astrid nearly choked on breathy laughter, the image no doubt appealing to her. “Mmm, we should definitely keep that option in mind. How much longer until that thing is charged and ready for use?”

“Another hour, I fear,” he said after glancing at his watch. He wished he could give her a more satisfying answer, but that was the instruction he’d read up in advance. By now, he was pitching a full tent in his loose lounging bottoms. But they could bridge an hour by doing something else… right? 

It was a long hour. Astrid played some more with her new app, arranging playlists or something, while Hiccup made a food plan for the week to determine which ingredients he would have to get. Although he’d have to double-check it later with how… distracted he was. 

Every few minutes, Astrid’s eyes flicked toward the clock hanging over their TV, and every time, she gave an impatient sigh. It made Hiccup grin, her eagerness and curiosity so wonderfully blatant and so cute. Not that he wasn’t interested in seeing what this toy could do, but there was just something so refreshing and endearing about watching her that he was almost sad when the waiting was over. But only almost. 

When the hour was over—Astrid apparently had even set an alarm—she jumped up and all but ran toward their bedroom. Hiccup followed her, chuckling, and found her kneeling on the bed. She held the vibe in her one hand and her phone in the other, and let out a victorious “Ha!” the moment he sat down next to her. 

“It’s working?” He crawled behind her onto the bed, stabilising himself with his hands on her waist as he looked over her shoulder.

“Looks like it, yes.” She tapped a few buttons on her phone, and the vibrator buzzed to life. “Excellent!”

“And what’s your plan now?” he asked, a little bemused as she turned it off again and shifted until she lay on her back. “What do you want to try with it?” 

She smirked. “Oh, you’ll see.” 

With one swift motion, she pushed her bottoms and underwear down, giving him an unimpeded view of her lower half, and brought the toy down to her entrance. Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat as he watched it slip inside her, easily, as if it belonged there. It really was proof of how aroused and eager she was that even after an hour of waiting she was wet enough to not need the tiniest bit of foreplay or lube. 

To his slight disappointment, though, she then pulled her clothes up again and reached for her phone. A moment later, a low tune sounded through the room and Astrid’s eyes fluttered shut with a soft moan. The vibrator was indeed surprisingly quiet, Hiccup could only hear it because he was listening for it and there were no other noises around them, anyway. With his heart beating a little faster, he let out a low grunt as he watched her, clearly luxuriating in the invisible stimulation. She was so beautiful like this. 

She held her hand out toward him, reaching for him. “Come here,” she purred.

Hiccup obliged happily, covering her with his body as she pulled him into a deep kiss. Her hips moved in time with the music coming from her phone, grinding herself against his thigh and making her mewl. 

Oh, this was hotter than he’d expected. He could probably continue just like this, lazily making out, kissing her with one hand slowly combing through her hair, and she’d still come sooner rather than later. But tempted as he was—they had the entire day free, after all, and nothing was stopping them from just spending countless hours in bed—he still wanted to do a little more, go a little further. 

He sat up, much to her complaint, and removed his shirt with one quick motion, then leaned down to resume kissing her. Astrid hummed happily as his hand splayed over her breast, squeezing her through her thin vest before it slipped beneath the fabric to peel it off her. She wriggled to help him, but instead nearly arched off the bed when the music switched to a quicker part for a short while and the toy apparently followed along. 

“F-fuck!” she cursed, eyes out of focus as she gazed past him at the ceiling. Her fingers were digging into his arms, her hips moving in search of that elusive stimulation. “This… this is…”

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Hiccup mused idly, mouthing at her ear. “I think I love this toy already.” 

Astrid didn’t reply and just moaned weakly as he moved down her body and pulled aside the cups of her bra with his teeth. Her nipples were sensitive already and quickly hardened beneath his tongue, so much fun to play with. 

He kept it light for now, merely teasing her. But with half an ear, he listened to the music, and right before he knew another quicker part would come, his lips closed around the hard bud and he sucked, harshly. It made her mewl with longing, and when the music and vibrations grew stronger again, Astrid cried out, limps shaking and hands tightening into fists in his hair. 

Three times he repeated this pattern until she came undone beneath him with a beautiful scream. Her entire body spasmed as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her eyes rolling back into her head. It was a memorable sight, one Hiccup wished he could capture in a drawing later on. She was so utterly beautiful when in the throes of pleasure, so irresistible, so alluring. Just watching her made him feel as if he was about to come himself.

When it was over, she almost desperation reached out, whimpering, and her arm wandered around on the bedcovers as if she was searching for something. It took Hiccup a second to cotton on, still mesmerised by her sight. But then he understood, grabbed her phone lying next to her head, and turned the music off. The low buzzing stopped as well and a moment later, Astrid fell back onto the bed, blissful and relaxed.

“Oh, wow,” she gasped, her head lolling to the sight and with a huge grin on her face. “Okay, this baby alone was worth everything. That was awesome!” 

Chuckling, Hiccup sat up and took in more of her sight. Not even halfway undressed but with her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and neck, she looked the picture of debauchery. 

“I’m glad to hear that. So I guess the hour of waiting wasn’t that unbearable, retrospectively?”

She let out a shaky laugh. “I’d say it was even more unbearable now that I know what I was missing out on. But just for the records. When I take this baby with me to work, promise me you won’t use the highest setting. I don’t want to fall off my chair when my body just stops responding.”

Hiccup laughed. The image was certainly intriguing, but he’d also noticed something else. She’d said when and not if. Somehow, that didn’t even surprise him. 

What did surprise him though was when Astrid suddenly reached up and pulled him into a blistering kiss. He’d thought that with the apparent intensity of her orgasm just now, she needed a slight break at least. But, obviously, he’d been wrong. Once, he was close enough again, her hands were all over him, roaming over his skin in a show of very obvious eagerness. 

Not one to complain, Hiccup let her guide him, getting rid of her shirt and bra, and enjoyed the sensation of hot skin against his own. Her hands on his back, her legs entangled with his own, her hips grinding against him, slow but insistent. 

“You’re sure you don’t need a break?” Even with how eager she was, he still had to ask, to make sure. “You’re not too sensitive?” 

She chuckled, breathy. “Actually, I am. Just a little, though. But no, I don’t need a break. Don’t want one. I want more.”

Groaning at her needy tone, Hiccup didn’t resist when she pushed his bottoms down and reached for his cock. After her lewd display, he was already hard, the touch of her hand more than welcome on his heated flesh. She stroked him slowly, her eyes drinking in his reaction, and he had to fight not to thrust into her grip in his eagerness. 

Getting rid of her remaining clothes was merely a formality, and before long, she guided his cock to slip inside her along with the toy. Even with how slim this part of the vibrator was, it was a noticeably tighter fit than usual, and at first, they struggled to find the right angle. Once inside though, Hiccup sighed as her silken heat surrounded him. She was so hot, so tight, and just so… so… Astrid!

She was biting her lip when he glanced down at her, her eyes pressed shut and brows furrowed. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was rough with desire, but her well-being was more important. 

Letting out a keening noise, low and needy, Astrid nodded. “I am. Just intense. But good.” 

To give her time to adjust, Hiccup leaned down, supporting his weight on his elbows, and breathed hot openmouthed kisses onto her jaw, down her neck, to her shoulders. It had the desired effect, distracting her and making her giggle. Then she pushed lightly against his chest with her flat hand, and Hiccup pushed himself up again, watching her curiously as she reached for her phone again. 

“Slowly at first, okay?”

Hiccup nodded and was about to say something in response when the vibrations set in. Instead, he just let out a weak groan, his eyes falling shut at the unfamiliar sensation. 

Oh, that felt good!

The toy wasn’t long enough to reach all the way along his cock, but that wasn’t much of an issue. As he slowly pulled out and pushed in again, he found that the toy covered him well enough, and the vibrations were enough to send an additional thrill through his body, anyway. 

And the music… Astrid had picked a calm piece, beautiful, and it was easy to fall into the slow rhythm. It was almost like a dance, in a way. Not that he would call himself a skilled or anything but awkward dancer, but this was different. Easy. Letting the music set the pace for their movements, he enjoyed how it gave him time to indulge in their closeness, their intimacy. Exploring every part of her he could reach with his nose and mouth alone was something he so rarely got the chance to. 

After a while, the music changed, the beat becoming a little faster. It was a natural development to follow, Astrid meeting his thrusts perfectly, and her endless string of moans and breathless sobs as the vibrations grew stronger was a beautiful addition to the familiar melody. 

Hiccup was entirely lost in it all, watching, listening, feeling. The music grew faster, the vibrations stronger, his thrusts harder. On and on it went, a crescendo of sensations. 

Beneath him, Astrid was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, her fingernails digging deeply into his arms. It was pure perfection, and when the music reached its climax, the same was true for them as well. 

It was intense; Astrid screamed with no restraints, and Hiccup muffled his howl against her sweaty neck. Her clenching muscles were like a velvet device of pleasure around his thrumming cock, and the vibrations fuelled his orgasm even further. His hips seemed to move on their own, his thrusts carrying them through to the end even as his cum made her insides slick and slippery. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” he groaned weakly as he nearly collapsed on top of her. He managed to roll to the side instead, forehead pressed against her shoulder, but he kept his arm slung across her chest in a loose embrace. After this, she would need the closeness just as much as he did. 

Astrid fumbled with her phone and then cuddled closer to him once the music—and the vibrations—had stopped. “Yeah, that’s an accurate summary,” she sighed, giggling. She snuggled closer, blindly reaching for a blanket to ward off the cool air. They were both in desperate need of a shower, but that could wait for later. “I don’t know what else we’re going to find in this calendar, but I dare say this toy is one of my top favourites.”

Hiccup let out a tired laugh. He’d hoped for this to be a good one, but the reality was still so much better than his imagination. 

“And you know what’s the best part of it?”

Too exhausted for many words, he just hummed weakly for her to continue. 

She shifted until her lips reached his, and he thought he could feel her smirk as she kissed him. 

“The best part is that we still have the entire day to keep enjoying this toy.”

. o O o .

AN: I bet neither of them will be able to walk anymore around noon at the latest. xD

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

[cloveroctobers]

NOAH SAMPATH —

IG info/bio: @/noahknowspat | 275k followers | “A True Renaissance-Man.” | (currently his page is on private, which he often does several months out of the year

25 (26) years of age

Born & raised in Kandy, Sri Lanka until his mother decided to uproot him & his sibs to the uk leaving his father behind

Both of his parents are from Nuwara Eliya

His parents decided it would be best for just his wife & children to live elsewhere while he continued his work in hotel & tourism

Which to him, is the best job he’s ever had—in a sense it felt like he loved his job a little more than his family but Noah knew that wasn’t completely true

Noah figured there was something secretly going on between his parents, he noticed how they would argue more over the years & how his father was fond of their homeland while his mother was not

She did not have much family left, most either leaving the country or dying from sickness

He’s used to living in a bungalow since that’s what he grew up in

Moved to Romford which didn’t take long for him to get adjusted to, he was quick to adapt to situations since that’s normally expected of him as the eldest...

Lived with an aunt? Who really wasn’t a aunt in a cramped 2 bedroom apartment with a child of her own (who was around Noah’s age and favored Richa Moorjani) for a couple of years

Has two younger sibs: a 17 year old brother, and a 11 year old sister

His mother was m*rdered just before his 18th birthday, therefore he’s grown not to celebrate his birthdays even tho he knows deep down that’s not how his mother would have wanted him to go on

She was wise and often stayed up with the moon having conversations with her eldest—if not with all her children

but as he looked back on their conversations he could tell that his mother knew she wouldn’t be on this earth for long

Which showed him a different way of living

His father hated Romford, didn’t think it was the best/ safest place ( I did some research and mostly saw that this town is kinda rough. Anybody from the uk reading & have experience with the town please confirm? Not attending to offend anyone plus every place has its rough areas) for his family & felt his point was proven once his wife was k*lled

He demanded for his children to come back home but Noah wasn’t having it once he realized his father had changed & became aggressive himself

He hated confrontation but he was of age now so he could do what he wanted but there was no bloody way his sibs were going back with this man

He was not the man they all once knew—shit, his sibs BARELY knew him

So Noah fought a lengthy battle with guardianship over his siblings

It only became easy once money was involved for the man to back off

It was v difficult to manage a household and two children at 18-19 all on his own but he was willing to do it, he felt like it was part of his purpose

Plus his “auntie” & “cousin” came around quite often which helped somewhat & even tho the woman was gritty in how she carried herself, anyone could see she cared for Noah’s mother & her children otherwise she wouldn’t have been around before & after his mother’s death

She became like a second mum but no one would ever replace his mother

It was tough going through his early twenties...he had became a parent figure instead of going to uni to study archaeology

He loved fossils & dinosaurs as a kid 

probably keeps up to date with any articles or shows that share their findings on prehistoric species in water or land (I find that shit so creepy yet interesting until I get too creeped out and leave lmao? especially dealing with the ocean!)

Enjoyed that American show called “siren”

He didn’t enjoy much of what usual twenty-something year olds would, he had to be home to take care of his siblings they became a major part of his life now

He is the type to bottle up his feelings. Ofc he jumped at the chance to raise his sibs without a question after seeing the state of his dad a week after his mum’s funeral but he knew he HAD feelings

He wasn’t a robot just because he tends to be quiet & observant

He had his low days too

But he would hide them in books, that was his safe haven, his escape

He loved working as a librarian even if he got shitted on for it

It never payed much even in his position but it brought him comfort that there were aisles of novels ready to tell him stories & found some relation to his own life

As if that wasn’t enough, he loved going to book shops as well. If he had enough $ leftover he would treat himself in a new book purchase

Will buy a new book even if he has piles of unread ones, which he does have a section of that in his room & in the corner of the living room

Has a kindle since it was the cheapest & can easily slip it into a bag if he can’t decide on what book to bring with him

Has glasses but prefers contacts, ‘i don’t want someone to think I’m that nerdy since I read out in public.’ He often thinks to himself—yet when he’s immerse in those pages the world goes silent around him

Collects vinyl toy figures and keeps them either on his mantle or built in shelves in his room

Loves coconut water & won’t drink any water unless it’s coconut

Got his gorgeous cheekbones from his dad

His father p*ssed during his 23rd year of life due to tsunami hitting the hotel he worked in

He took his sibs to their native land once it was safe and connected with their father’s side, which was bittersweet

I think I get Scorpio energy from noah? Idk but it’s in there somewhere

He likes cutting his food into smaller pieces no matter what it is, it’s just a habit since he did so for his younger sibs

Secretly it’s also easier for him since he feels like the dentist ruined one of his nerves once he got his wisdom teeth out

He hates the dentist

His baby sis is deaf & he absolutely took the time to learn sign language along with his brother

Chose buying her hearing aids over paying a monthly bill when $ got tight

His 17 year old brother now works a job & helps out the best way he can even if it took a bit of persuading from their cousin

They’re all extremely close and are aware what Noah’s done and continues to do for them

Probably enjoys painting even if he’s not the greatest at it, but there’s something about water color that is pleasing to his eyes

He’s had many jobs to keep food on the table and support his family but being a custodian paid him the most yet he couldn’t continue working overtime not when his sibs were as young as they once were. He had to let the job go, the money was great, his co-workers sucked since they never came to work leaving him with OT, but it was also a lot of gross work & the teenage girls were always hitting on him

Prone to taking on more than he can chew whether it’s in relationships or life situations

Has either one or two best friends outside of the villa & they’ve been tight since junior year

They didn’t approve of Noah stepping forward to take care of his sibs, knowing it would be a big responsibility & possibly put his life on hold

But they didn’t understand & came around to once they saw him in action & became supportive/proud

He knows they mean well?

Cannot dance

Owns a couple of blazers that he feels the most comfy in

Loves a good pin-striped dress shirt

Has soft thin wavy hair

Will sport a 5’oclock shadow if he’s stressed out, tired, or wants to show a more “mature” side of himself

Misses his mum’s Lamprais & kottu roti

He’s 5’11

Had 1-2 gfs before the villa & both of them were super lengthy relationships which there’s obviously nothing wrong with

Always trying to make it work even if there are signs of it failing

Is not the dominant one in relationships & usually wants to keep the peace—which falls back on him taking everything on his plate & bottling them up instead of addressing situations from the jump

Is observant but also likes to assume?

Tries to be honest & loyal

Once he’s in a relationship & it’s confirmed from the other, he is completely devoted & smitten

I think quality time is his love language

I also think he tried to play the violin growing up since he found that to be one of the instruments that holds so much passion

Likes period pieces minsus the racism :)

Has read Frankenstein countless of times over Shakespeare, he’s got good work, yeah? but it’s a bit overrated

Keeps in touch with rahim & feels he understands him on a level his mates of years do not

They go holiday together when Noah feels he can afford it, even if rahim says he can pay for it. It’s not a big deal

Yet it is. He feels insecure when someone feels like he can’t do something because of where he’s from & what he does for a living. It showed more in his relationship with hope

Sure she was constantly paying for things but when he silently took the initiative to do so it was automatically assume that he didn’t have it even with his wallet out to pay

There were plenty of flaws in his relationship with hope and it took forever for him to see the toxicity in it even if fans adored them together

I’ve decided that they won’t be endgame. Which breaks everyone’s hearts after he’s the one to surprisingly call it quits after 3 years. He thought it would get better once he realized they way the acted towards each other was not completely heathly but it got worse

So he did what he had to do with what was in the best interest of everyone & hope did not agree

It was heated, it was emotional, and there was a last moment of intimacy to seal the deal of their goodbyes

Then came the drama online, with interviews and people trying to bring Priya into the mix & Hope was always vocal so it became a bigger issue

Noah just wanted to heal on his own but he was never going to engage in the drama. If they were all back in the villa face to face he might have said something but he didn’t need his words twisted so he rose above it and knew the two would eventually along with the fans

To get over the breakup? He hung out a little later with his mates at CLUBS, visited rahim, spent more time with his sibs, read, and...reached out to...BLAKE

After almost two years with whoever (in my case it was henrik) she was freshly single herself & not really looking but knew Noah was trying to get underneath someone. A rebound? Since he couldn’t bring himself to do so with the girls around home

Blake knew what happened with hope. She along with mc & some fans saw it coming. She thought about it, really thought about it but decided that she wouldn’t be Noah’s rebound. She knew Noah just needed time and when he was ready, maybe she’d be around

Celeb crush: Gillian Anderson, Antonia Thomas, Tika Sumpter, Aja-Naomi King, Normani Kordei, & Sophie Turner

Who does Noah listen to? Hozier maybe? KWABS, Grace Carter, Seinabo Sey, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, Half Moon Run, Aisha Badru, Lianne La Havas, Dana Williams, Allan Rayman, Rationale, etc...

Anthem = Sid Sriram, “It isn’t true”

[litniche]

Love Will Find a Way

Read Ch. 9 on ao3

Dani x Jamie fanfic

CHAPTER 9

 One of the things Dani loved about Jamie was her nomadic nature. When Dani had first enjoyed the privilege of visiting Jamie’s studio, that nature had been evident in the lack of possessions scattered about. The space was lived in and boasted Jamie’s green thumb, but was otherwise rather spare. That was, until Dani had moved in. Somehow, she had accumulated far more than she had meant to over the last few months. One might need a mug here, a towel there, a book...or several. And, she really      really    had gone to town hoarding clothes.

 Jamie stared at the overstuffed closet. “You have a problem."

 “I knoooow,” Dani sighed, exasperated with herself. “I can’t help it. I see something cute and I just can't walk away. I’m marrying you after all,” she said with a sly grin.

 Jamie turned back to look at Dani with a raised brow. “Owen would be proud, Poppins.”

 “Okay, ouch, actually.”

 Jamie grinned, chuckling under her breath as she shook her head. “Right. How do we do this?”

 “You hold up an item and I’ll tell you if it’s to be donated or kept?”

 “Sounds like a plan.”

 The closet took them less time than Dani had feared, but more than she’d hoped. By mid-afternoon,the Wingrave's new cook brought lunch to the pair along with Miles and Flora who had insisted on coming. Dani agreed that the children could stay as long as they lent a hand. Under her direction, the children helped them clean and pack until the sun was beginning to set.  

 “What is your flat like in America?” Miles asked as the day came to a close.

 “Well, for starters, we call it an apartment,” Dani began. “It’s cozy. Bigger than this place, but much smaller than the manor.”

 Flora smiled as she twirled in the middle of the room, bumping into Jamie. The gardener retaliated by picking Flora up and turning her upside down to hang her by her ankles. The little girl squealed in delight before Jamie plopped her down on the bed beside Dani. She curled into the au pair, cuddling her side. Dani felt her heartstrings pull. She would miss them so much. And so soon.

 “Sounds nice,” Miles nodded, smiling a little sadly.

 “You know,” Dani began as waved for the boy to come closer. She took the pair of jeans he had been folding for her and placed it in a bag meant for donation. “You can always visit us and see it for yourself.”

 “That would be splendid!” Flora interjected. “I’ve always wanted to see America!”

 “Then it’s settled,” Dani smiled at her, then Miles. “I’ll tell your uncle that you’re welcome anytime.”

 Miles and Flora beamed at Dani. Jamie caught the au pair’s eye. There was a hint of mirth in the gardener’s eyes, but she also looked pleased.

 “Are we sure about inviting gremlins into our new home?”

 “We’re not gremlins!” Flora argued.

 Jamie squinted her eyes at the girl. “That’s just what a gremlin would say. All right, you lot --that’s enough work for the day. There’s only a bit of tidying left and honestly, the place looks better than the day I moved in already. Miles and Flora: do us a favor and take down the rubbish. Then we’ll pack the donations into the truck. Got it?”

 Miles saluted and Flora quickly mimicked him. They darted for the bins and ran down the stairs at an alarming pace, leaving Dani to clench her fist and bite it while Jamie laughed. “They’re after matching your ankle, I reckon.”

 “They want to turn my hair grey,” Dani sighed.

 Jamie seemed to consider it. “Can’t say that wouldn’t be fetching.”

 “And you call me a flirt.”

 “Two to tango, Poppins,” Jamie said with a wink. She bent to grab a few bags meant for donation, setting them aside for Flora and Miles to take down. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

 “I’m okay on my own now,” Dani said with an insincere roll of her eyes. After only a week of Jamie’s care and all-around babying of her ankle, Dani felt all but healed.

 “Humor me,” Jamie insisted, holding out her hand.

 Dani took it, rising so that she stood within inches of her fiancée. She scanned Jamie’s face, her eyes landing on two pink, ready lips. She darted for them in a quick peck. “Just this once, I suppose.”

 “Please. Wrapped around my pinky, you are,” Jamie said as she wiggled her little finger in the air.

 A smirk played on Dani's lips. “That so?”

 “Mmmhmm,” Jamie hummed, making as if to step away. When Dani swayed forward as if pulled by an invisible thread to follow, the gardener stopped suddenly. They collided, Dani’s lips landing on Jamie’s. The gardener chortled softly in the kiss. “I’d say so.”

 The light but pounding footsteps of the children climbing the stairs interrupted before Dani could protest, but Dani knew she wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on, ankle healed or not.

 ****

 A fews days had passed and Jamie’s studio was officially out of their hands. The wedding was only a few days away now and Henry had arranged that they’d all be leaving for France together in the morning.

 Henry stared at the fire, poking it and adding a log that Jamie handed him. After putting the children to bed, Henry had proposed a bonfire to celebrate Jamie and Dani’s last night at the manor.

 Dani was grateful. Even next to Jamie, she wasn’t sure she would be getting much sleep tonight. Tomorrow meant Paris. Paris meant the wedding. It felt surreal that the woman sitting next to her, currently sharing a Tartan-woven blanket with her, would soon be her wife. She watched the fire’s glow dance in Jamie’s eyes, marvelling at her luck. What were the odds that their paths would bring them both to Bly Manor? Then again, maybe it wasn’t luck at all.

 The three sat in seemingly comfortable silence, nursing hot chocolates, but Dani felt an itch; she needed to say something, and there was really no time like the present. Tomorrow would be a busy day of travelling and the following days leading up to the wedding would leave little room for much else. Then Jamie and Dani would go on their honeymoon and the Wingraves would return to Bly. She had to broach the subject now or never.

 “Henry,” she started, “I’ve been wondering- well, I’ve been noticing that your tea has less spirit lately.”

 Jamie’s brows shot up, but Dani squeezed her hand, silently telling her it was okay and to wait for Henry’s reply.

 “American bluntness never disappoints,” Henry smiled and Dani was relieved to see his eyes held the same fond frankness she was trying to employ. “Yes, I am sober.”

 Dani exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “I thought so.”

 “Yes, well, the children…” Henry trailed off for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “With Charlotte and my brother gone, they’re all I have left. I’m all they have left.”

 “Do you have some sort of plan?” Jamie asked. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and fingers laced. “Or someone to talk to, maybe? A way to keep it up?”

 “I’ve employed a counselor,” Henry nodded. “Among other things. With Ms. Clayton gone,” he smiled as he met Dani’s gaze, “I’ll need a bit more support, I know. For starters, I’ve no intention of letting a bottle of alcohol into that Manor ever again.”

 “It’s not always about intentions,” Dani said softly with a worried brow. “My mother--she drank before my father passed away and it only got worse after that. She’d make me promises over the years, telling me she’d get better for me, ya know? But eventually? She failed. Every time. Henry, you can’t fail. You can’t fail these children.”

 “I know,” Henry nodded, staring into the bonfire again. “Not after what they’ve been through.”

 “I’m not going to be here anymore,” Dani’s voice quivered as she spoke. “But I’m      here    . I don’t care what time it is here or in America, if you need someone to talk to, to call you cab, to yell at you--I’m      here,    Henry.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. “You’re goddamn family now, so I’m going to be a downright nuisance. I won’t lose you. And I won’t let the children lose you either.”

 Squeezing her hand in return, Henry laughed softly, his eyes glistening. “Thank you, Ms. Clayton.”

 “I think you can call me Dani now,” the au pair laughed, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. Little had she known when she had first come to Bly that she would leave with the love of her life and a new family. She sniffed and sat up, whipping a tear as she smiled and leaned into Jamie as the gardener rubbed her back in soothing circles.

 “I must say I’m going to miss you. Both of you,” he said as he regarded Jamie with the same fondness. “I’m so very lucky and grateful for the time we’ve spent together.”

 “Chin up, Boss,” Jamie said. “We’ve got a few more days left and besides, we expect visits to America at least once a year. No exceptions.”

 Bowing his head in laughter, Henry nodded. “Yes, I expect the children will want to visit you as soon as you’re done with your honeymoon.”

 “No objections here,” Dani grinned. “Let’s make a plan. I don’t want to leave without knowing when I’ll see you all next.”

 Henry put his hand on his heart. “Leave it to me. You two have enough to worry about in the next few days.”

 Dani bit her lip as her stomach flipped. Inwardly, she scolded herself for feeling nervous about the wedding approaching. Sure, she wasn’t sure what her life had in store for her-- no one does-- but she knew she wanted to spend every minute of it she could with Jamie. “So soon,” she said in agreement.

 Henry held up his mug of hot chocolate. “To the brides and your lives together. May you not take a single day for granted and may you always know you have family in Bly.”

 Dani and Jamie raised their mugs, letting them clunk against Henry’s before taking a sip.

 When the fire tamed, they retired. In Dani’s old room, the au pair stood stock still at the foot of the bed, staring off into space.

 “Poppins? All right?” Jamie asked as she wove her arms around the au pair’s waist from behind.

 Dani closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Jamie’s, holding her to her. “Just thinking.”

 “Sounds dangerous.”

 Dani swatted the gardener’s hip playfully.

 “Seriously, Poppins. What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing’s wrong,” Dani said, still working through what was going on for herself. “I think I’m nervous?”

 “That’s normal,” Jamie said with a kiss to Dani’s shoulder.

 “Not that kind of nervous,” Dani shook her head. Not about you or marrying you. I’m just…the last time I was about to be married, things didn’t go so well.”

 Jamie turned Dani in her arms. “Things are a little different this time,” she said steadfastly, holding Dani’s gaze, as if her surety alone could convince the au pair of her words.

 “I know, and I want this. That’s the biggest difference,” Dani said. She held Jamie’s face in her palms, her eyes scanning every angle and curve of the beauty in front of her in reverence. “Don’t for a second doubt that, Jay.”

 A tenderness that made Dani’s knees feel as weak as her ankle found its way into Jamie’s eyes and her soft smile. “I don’t. I wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ otherwise.” She paused, then asked, “But?”

 “But, I’m nervous,” Dani admitted again. “I’m scared, really. I-” her voice wavered as she spoke. “I kind of don’t want to let you out of my sight until the wedding is over and we’re safe back in Vermont.”

 “Firstly, I think that can be arranged,” Jamie said with a light chuckle, pecking Dani’s lips. “And second, we’ve had this discussion, Poppins. You don’t decide who lives and dies. You don’t. I don’t plan on going anywhere, but when I do--someday in the very distant future, I hope-- it won’t be because of you.”

 “I know it’s silly or superstitious or whatever, but it’s what I feel,” Dani huffed, annoyed with herself.

 “Considering what you’ve been through, Poppins, I’d say you’re entitled to a little superstition.” The gardener kissed Dani slowly, caressing her lips softly with her own to soothe her. Her hands massaged Dani’s back as she held her close, and the tension Dani held there began to loosen. “I’m not going anywhere,” Jamie whispered.

 Dani let her chin rest on the gardener’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist as Jamie’s hands began to work their magic at the base of her neck. She sighed as she let her forehead fall onto the gardener’s shoulder and turned her neck to kiss just below Jamie’s ear. She wanted to let herself drown in Jamie’s affection, to forget about the aching chill of her anxiety that crept across her skin and burrowed deep within her--that ever-lasting threat that came with loving someone as wholly as she did Jamie. The guarantee that one day, one way or another, she would lose her.

 “Promise?” the au pair asked, knowing Jamie could never promise her what she was asking. Just like Dani, she couldn't decide who lived or died.

 Jamie parted from Dani enough to bring their lips together in a kiss. She ducked, for just a moment, to lift Dani’s knee and wrap her leg around the gardener's waist, still mindful of Dani’s ankle despite it being on the mend. She leaned forward so that Dani fell back onto the bed and let her hand slide up Dani’s side as she deepened the kiss. When she pulled away, it was as if her eyes poured every ounce of her love into Dani’s. The au pair met her gaze in wonder at the miracle that was Jamie as she held her face and combed back soft curls.

 “One day at a time, Poppins,” Jamie said. “It’s all anyone can promise, when you get down to it. As long as those days are spent with you, one day at a time is fine by me.”

 “Okay,” Dani said, bringing their foreheads together and resigning herself to the fact that to truly love another person meant accepting the work of loving them was worth the pain of losing them. "One day at a time. If enough for you, it's enough for me."

 "I reckon it's enough for me."