#who do i have to fuck. beg to. or murder to just make this easier? gimme a list. i’ll get right on it.

[princesssmars]

something something riding karlach until she sees stars. 18+.

karlach is about ninety percent sure her engine is about to fucking explode. and one hundred of that ninety percent is all your fault. its no secret that you're beautiful, annoyingly perceived as so by pretty much everyone who meets you. she could tell when you first walked up to her from across that branch without fear, later telling her you already knew she wasn't the murderous psychotic devil everyone made her out to be. you listened to her story, defended her against wyll, and she could tell the irregular tick in her chest wasn't just her being nervous about facing probable death at the hands of the blade of frontiers himself.

(although if she had to die at your hands she wouldn't much mind. which is normal. in hindsight, she could also remember her subtly flirting with you. also normal.)

and she's so happy that despite your shared bundle of traumas and saving-the-world problems you could find some respite in each other. she's also really happy that as sweetly as she treats you you also understand how fucking horny she is after ten years of absolutely no contact and then meeting someone who is just as crazy for her as she is for them.

which is how she got to the current moment, her nails digging into your hips as you straddle her hips and rock yourself into her, each subtle glaze of your clit against hers bringing a strangled moan out of her throat.

she's not above begging, especially to you, but everytime she finds the ability to speak without releasing sounds of ecstasy she loses it in seconds. everything she's feeling is too overwhelming in the bestways possible, your hand running through her hair, the other palming at her breasts and bringing out very new and very embarrassing squeaks out of her, your legs squeezed around her waist which just brings her attention and eyesight back to the brief view she can get of your pussy when you pull your hips back before bringing them forward again.

she must have been hyper focused on the space between your legs because your hand is bringing her head back up with a giggle, asking her where she went with a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, smiling when her eyes close and her lips fold like shes holding herself back, the exact opposite of what you want her to do.

"'m sorry. i just...fuck, soldier, you're killing me here." she gasps, bringing your hand to her chest to feel her newy tuned engine, the heat growing by the second as the blue flames flicker across her skin.

"gods, you really are burning up. we cant stop if you want-" you start to pull your hips off of hers when her claws dig in harder and simultaneously force you down while she thrusts up, loud moans leaving both of you that make you very glad you put a spell over the area inside her tent.

she keeps going, thrusting her cunt into yours while you struggle to keep up, wrappong your arms around her neck when she lies flat on her back and spreads both of your legs further apart, your shared wetness making the glide of your cunts so much easier and all the hotter.

"dont stop, please dont stop. i'll die if you do."

you take a few seconds to catch yourself when her noises take on a more whiny approach, little 'fuck fuck fuck-'s whispered into your ear as she bucks her hips like a madwoman. with a sadistic smile you adjust your body so your nipples can rub over hers the same time you bite into her neck and with a strangled cry she comes, continuing to buck her hips until you fall apart on top of her.

you can feel her breathing slowing down beneath you, the heat of her engine cooling down to a comfortable heat. you start to move your head up to give her a smile and check up before you feel her hips move again, the feeling of your clit being overstimulated nearly making you cry. when you do get to look ather she already has her eyes focused on you, heavy lidded as harsh breaths escape her mouth.

"its starting to look like you'll die if i dont."

"well, i always knew id go out with a bang..."

teehee

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 7

I know I said that Nanny would be out this week, but I just finished this and am really wanting to get it out as soon as possible and that includes the epilogue.

But if I time it right, this series and Hellfire will end the same week and I'll be able to return to some kind of normal schedule instead of pumping these out on a fucking grinder.

That said, I probably won't do a Christmas story with the way things are right now. But we'll see the closer we get to the holiday.

In this we get the proper Jack the Ripper tour and the author has opinions, okay! Steve draws attention to himself at the Paris Opera house. Murray is a bit too knowing. And of course as @val-from-lawrence guessed, visited the Catacombs!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

They had done the Tower of London and St. Paul’s Cathedral during the day and got ready for the Bauman Experience as Murray called it. They all had a flashlight and went to go meet him where they had the night before.

They caught him dealing with some obnoxious tourists.

“Oh thank god!” the Karen cried. “An American. Could you please explain to this woman that we only have dollars to pay with. She has to take it!”

Murray blinked at her for a moment. “Well that is quite the cock up, you absolute muppet. Are you dead from the neck up? British pound sterling is the brass here, you silly cow!”

The woman’s head reared back in shock, clutching her chest. “I beg your pardon!”

“To make it perfectly clear,” Murray said leaning forward into her space. “You fucked up, you moron. Are you really that stupid? Dollars aren’t the currency here, the British pound is. Just like you can’t use the pound anywhere but here, you can’t use the dollar anywhere but America so why don’t you go to an ATM or bank and get it exchanged. Or and here’s the really neat part about living in the age of technology, use or credit or debit card and your bank does the conversion for you.”

When she started sputtering angrily, Murray waved her off. “Now, shoo! I’ve got actual paying customers waiting for me.”

Murray turned to the four of them with a smiled. “Well, hello! Welcome. Now that things are dark and therefore sufficiently spooky, let’s take you on a proper tour of Jack’s slaying grounds.”

He went through the different murders until he got to the double murders of Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Miss Stride is usually considered his third victim and that he was interrupted, moving on to Miss Eddowes. But I think Stride was a copycat. The person only knew the bodies were mutilated, but not how. So for me, I don’t count her in the confirmed kills.”

Robin nodded sagely. “I don’t either. There was far too little evidence to prove he had been frightened off, because otherwise Eddowes would have been more brutal than it was. He would have been angry he couldn’t finish with Stride. You would have expected her to look like what Mary Kelly’s body looked like, not cool and calm.”

Murray smiled up at her. He turned to Eddie. “I really like her. She’s clever.”

Robin blushed and ducked her head.

A short time later, just as they were wrapping up the Kelly murder, Murray stopped. He looked at a pair of older teenagers and then back at the group.

Chrissy picked up on it first. “You thinking what, I’m thinking, Mur?”

Murray turned to her and cocked his head to the side, considering. He nodded and Chrissy pursed her lips.

Steve caught on just as quick. “Eds, baby. I think those boys may have guessed who you are, love.”

Robin and Eddie shared a concerned glance.

“Fuck,” Eddie huffed. “I liked this jacket.”

Robin grabbed it from him and gave him her jacket. “Mine doesn’t look as fancy,” she explained pulling his jacket on. “Just like Boston, peeps!”

Murray tilted his head to the side and did a quick Google search. “Or... if you’d like, my car is literally around the corner.”

The four of them stopped swapping clothes and looked up at him.

“That’s easier,” Steve said. “Who’s all for easier?”

The other three raised their hands and they followed Murray to his car. Robin sat up front while Steve and Chrissy covered Eddie between them.

“Drop me off at the hotel,” Steve said, tapping on Murray’s shoulder. “I’ll check us out and then meet you at Shakespeare’s Head.”

Murray looked behind him and grinned. “Smart thinking.”

~

Eddie had changed into a trucker hat and a puffy hunting vest over sturdy blue jeans and thick work boots.

“Kids and their cameras these day,” Murray huffed, sliding a pint of beer over at Steve as he sat down between Robin and Chrissy. “So what’s the story with loverboy here?” he asked Eddie, cocking his head to indicate Steve.

“He’s not out,” Eddie said dryly. “His parents are complete assholes who could and would make things very difficult for him if he was.”

“Nothing says asshole parents,” Murray said with a nod, “quite like those that have the money to make you miserable.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve got that right. But I’m more than equipped to make it work.” He half shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for almost a year.”

Murray’s went wide and he gave an opened mouthed smile. “Have you really? I would have never guessed. Good job! ”

“How did you spot the kids, by the way?” Robin asked around her fruity cocktail.

“Oh,” Murray said, ducking his head a bit. “You’re walking around a small group of people at night in a bad area of London. Whitechapel isn’t as bad as it was in Jackie’s time, but it’s still not a good neighborhood. You have to keep an eye out for people, but especially older teens wishing to knock you over for a bit of loose change.”

Steve cleared his throat and ducked his head. “I am about to ask the most bougie question imaginable. And you can tell me to go to hell if I’m out of line here.”

Murray’s eyebrows went up and he leaned back in his chair. “Wha’cha got, kid?”

Steve licked his lower lip as he tried to word this in a way that wasn’t instantly offensive. “How entrenched are you in this job?”

“Not very,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just moving through the world enjoying myself and taking jobs that would be fun. I’ve got more than enough money. Why?”

“We were talking in our group chat,” Chrissy explained taking over from a very embarrassed Steve, “and we thought we’d offer you a job as main look out and part time driver for when we’re in Europe. You really saved Eddie today and we could really use someone like you with us.”

Murray glared at her. “You sure I wouldn’t cramp your little foursome you’ve got going on here’s style?” He made a little circling motion with his hand to indicate all of them.

Robin shook her head. “It’ll make it harder for people to recognize a quartet if it suddenly became a quintet. Plus, we’d pay for your room and board. None of us are skint, believe you me.”

“We’ll be staying in haunted hotels, motels, and bed and breakfasts,” Eddie added. “But we won’t force you to join us. We can put you up in a nice place nearby and we join back up whenever we go out.”

Murray eyed them suspiciously until Steve slid over an envelope. He picked it up and pulled out a check. His eyes went wide. “That’s quite the pretty penny.”

“That’s half,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and throwing herself against the back of the chair. “You’ll get the other half once we leave Europe for Asia.”

“All that for a month’s worth of driving you four around and making sure fans and paparazzi don’t find Eddie here?” Murray asked. “Have you gone crazy?”

Eddie shook his head. “We just want a romantic tour of the spooky places of Europe. I hate the thought Steve getting caught up in something just because I’m recognized everywhere I go and he isn’t.”

Murray licked his lips slowly as his eyes narrowed. “That’s not how that’s usually said.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean? How is what said?”

Robin put her hand on his elbow as he bristled slightly at his tone.

“Usually people will say ‘famous and they’re not’,” Murray said thoughtfully, “he said ‘recognized’. Meaning Stevie here is famous too, but not in a way people would recognize him on the street. What is a famous painter or some shit?”

She cocked her to the side and said dryly, “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Murray laughed. Just full on cackled. “Have I mentioned how much I like her? Because I really like her.”

Eddie leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “So what do you say, Murray?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “You want to work for me again?”

Murray slipped the check into his coat pocket and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~

Their first stop on the Continent was Paris and the catacombs. Eddie was still trying to figure out how Robin did that one. It had been closed to the public for years.

Robin just smirked and said, “Well we aren’t the public.”

Steve was also sure they didn’t open it up to anyone who opened their wallet, either, but wisely stayed silent. Plus he was having fun watching Chrissy and Robin run circles around Murray in terms of sheer knowledge.

“Um...Stevie?” Eddie murmured so the trio couldn’t hear him. “Can I hold your hand? It’s getting a little creepy in here.”

Steve held out his hand, the one that had the little guitar on the inner wrist. Eddie looked down at the offered hand with a fond smile. He took the offered hand and their tattoos matched up. Eddie felt braver with every step knowing that Steve would always be there to hold his hand through the darkness.

Chrissy looked back at them and grinned at their clasped hands. She sped up her walk just a little, forcing Murray and Robin to speed up to match her pace, leaving the two love birds the privacy they so richly deserved.

Once they were out in the sunlight and among the city once again, Eddie refused to let go of Steve’s hand.

Steve looked at their joined hands and then back at Eddie. Eddie gave him his brightest smile and Steve was smitten. Even more so than before. He just loved him so much.

They toured the Paris Opera house and Eddie pulled out a cape and mask.

“Sing for me my angel of music!” he said to Chrissy.

She burst out laughing. “My name may be Christine, but I really don’t think they’d want me shattering the glass.”

Eddie turned to Robin who waved her arms in front of her. “No way! I sing like a frog in heat!”

“No.” Was all Murray said.

Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned.

“Sing!” Eddie crowed.

Steve took a deep breath and belted out that high note, held it perfectly and then took a bow.

Murray blinked and slow smile spread over his features. “You’re in one of those bands with the masks aren’t you? Like Sleep Token or The Fallen, huh? That’s Eddie here said recognized and not famous. Good on you.”

They all shared looks of concern.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Murray huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. “And I’m certainly not even going to try and guess which band it is.” He pulled out his phone and messed around on it for a while.

During which they all watched with ever increasing dread. The silence seemed to stretch out on and on.

Then Chrissy’s phone pinged. Everyone jumped as she scrambled for her phone. She opened it up and blinked a moment.

“You signed a blanket statement NDA?” she asked handing her phone to Robin. “Why?”

Murray licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did it suck when Corroded Coffin pulled out of my management causing a shit ton of other people pulling out, too? Sure. But that’s the nature of the business. One that I had been in for over twenty years. I took it as a sign from the universe to retire and enjoy my life. Unlike the CC boys pulling out on Nancy Wheeler because she about to do some pretty shady shit. And I say that having been part of a business that used to be built on shady ass shit.”

Chrissy coughed and looked away to hide her smile.

“I’m guessing Steve’s band is why Corroded Coffin went nuclear on her in the first place?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then nodded. “She was an ex-girlfriend and she tried to hold that over my head to get me to work with her.”

Murray let out a long and low whistle. “Shady doesn’t even begin to cover that shit. The void would be fucking closer. Shit.”

Robin handed back Chrissy her phone. “How did you get an NDA that fast anyway?”

“Oh that?” Murray asked with a huff of laughter. “I have a bunch of basic contracts and shit in my Google docs. Things can move fast in this business and it’s a good idea to keep a few on hand. Back in the old days we kept them in our briefcases that we carted around. This is sooo much easier.”

“Smart.”

Murray grinned back at her. He turned to Steve. “Come on, show us what that classical vocal training can really do.”

Steve blushed and began warming up his vocals as Robin grinned.

“You may think you’ve heard Steve sing,” she crowed, “but you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Then Steve really opened up and began to sing. There was a deepness to his voice that didn’t have anything to do with his range. He was clearly a tenor, but the rich quality to his voice just elevated it somehow.

“Rigoletto,” Murray said nodding appreciatively. “Well done.” He clapped slowly, but it wasn’t mocking. “Your parents must have been livid when you didn’t go into opera.”

Steve snorted. “About as angry as when they found out I was bisexual. They know what I am but if I go public with it...”

“They’ll make your life a nightmare?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I feel for you, kid.”

He looked around and grimaced. “I thick it’s time we make like Opera Ghost and scram. That performance of Steve’s here, is getting more attention than I thought it would.”

They looked around and sure enough there were people pointing at Steve.

“I’m not sure what the Venn diagram of opera and metal fans,” Chrissy said, “but I’m betting it’s not two separate circles.”

“Yeaahhh,” Eddie said with a wince.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and they ran for the doors. Murray and the girls hot on their heels.

~

Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Dominant! Ghost Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Heavy BDSM, Edging, Overstimulation, Aftercare, Ownership Kink, Marking, Biting, Petnames, Consensual Dub-Con, Consensual Abuse of Physical Strength, Knife Play, Mentions of Blood, Spit Kink, Cum Play, Rough Sex, Dominant Ghost, Submissive Reader, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

You’re his. Simple as.

And he makes sure to remind you - and anyone who crosses your path - on a near-daily basis.

Whenever he sees fit, he’ll just corner you and pin you down, telling you to “Calm down, Pipsqueak – you’re makin’ me hard,” – his way of warning you that whatever he has planned for you will only worsen the more you struggle.

And his bulge against your back is a very visceral promise of that.

Loves forcing your hands beside or above your head; it reminds you both of how much stronger than you he is – how weak and dependent you are compared to him.

How he owns you.

Bites your throat and shoulders, sucking marks, crafting you a necklace of bruises fashioned by him – his own branded jewels of love.

He’ll make sure they’re visible, too.

He needs to ward off other people from you by leaving his mark, his signature.

If he thinks you’re being bratty or uncooperative, he’ll go to any lengths to break you down until you submit to him entirely.

“You’re not making this any easier for yourself, Love,” he says. “Just tell me why you’re being so infuriating and I won’t bleed you this time.”

Massively into knife play.

Loves hearing you squeak and moan whenever he holds a knife to your throat or drags the blunted edge up your thighs, pressing it to your throbbing, aching core and cutting your underwear open, ravaging you.

He’s so rough when he’s in this kind of mood.

Will pound you until you bleed. Or give out and admit your feelings to him. Either will suffice; Ghost is a patient man.

And his stamina and endurance are no joke.

He will outlast you in every faculty.

That’s the territory that comes with being a trained murderer.

And he will remind you of that constantly.

“How does it feel–” he rasps, pants, as he pounds you from behind, the bed jutting with each thrust, “–to know you’re being fucked by a killer,”

The question is always rhetorical. He just revels in the feeling of you clenching around him when he recalls just how easily he could end you right here, right now.

But he doesn’t. And he never would.

He loves you far, far too much.

But that doesn’t stop him from being straight-up disrespectful.

Orders you to open your mouth, only for him to spit into it whenever he knows or suspects you’re being untruthful.

Also loves covering you in his cum.

His favourite thing is to cum inside you and watch it ooze from whichever holes he’s chosen to abuse that day, but something about covering you in it makes him feral.

Edges you constantly.

Uses your release as a bartering chip.

“Tell me why you’re being such a brat and I’ll let you cum.”

It’s a trap. Your honesty is punished, too.

Once he tears a satisfactory answer from you, he’ll let you - make you - cum.

And as your orgasm is still rolling through you, he’ll keep going. And going. And going.

At first you could assume it’s his bid to fulfil his own needs, but even after he finishes inside you and he simply doesn’t relent, realisation dawns on you.

Your insides are aching, pleading for a moment’s respite. But Ghost doesn’t stop, battering your hole and keeping it stretched over his bulging cock.

There comes a point where you’re banging your fists against his chest, begging him to stop because you’re so sensitive and it hurts, but he ignores you.

“If I were to let up that easily, I wouldn’t get to have any fun. Quite unfair after I let you cum, isn’t it?”

Looks into your eyes as he does it, too.

Will tie you up if he finds your cries and flails to be too bothersome.

Binds you to the bedposts so there’s nothing you can do but watch and feel as he slams into you at such a harsh, killing rhythm that has you thinking whatever’s leaking out of you right now is blood.

Very much into BDSM.

Will use his strength to bend you into whatever shape your body will allow and bind your limbs together, making it entirely impossible for you to break free as he has his way with you.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, grinding the shape of his cock into your walls; and all the while you’re moaning, crying, tears streaming down your face as euphoria tightens in your centre. “Nobody else can have you - please you - the way I can.”

Big fan of punishment, btw.

There are times where he puts you in a cage and just cums on you, making you stay there until his semen is crusting on your skin, makeshift scales on the creature Simon has reduced you to.

Also gets a kick out of spanking you, either with a belt or his hand.

When he’s feeling particularly cruel, he makes you count them until you reach the limit he has set for you.

And Heaven forbid you lose count, or you both start all over again.

Ghost likes to make sure that every time you try to sit down, you remember him – what he did to you.

When all is said and done, however, when you’re used and stuffed and Ghost is milked dry, he is the king of aftercare.

Will make sure all your needs are seen to, regardless of how oddly specific they are.

Simon will not let you move a muscle, even if you insist you can “go another round,” he’ll push you back down onto the bed.

“Oh no, you’re staying put, Sweetheart.” he says, looking down at you with all the fondness of one who has discovered love for the first time. “I’m scared you’ll break if we go again.”

He’s joking, ofc.

Secretly loves to snuggle. All the time.

And he holds you as you’re drifting off to sleep, keeping you flush against his chest, wondering how he got so lucky to have met you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[modelbus]

I've been in the worst writing slump... so I've defaulted to Kaz Brekker (oops). This didn't get as far as I wanted it to, but it's about 2k words!

Be warned: This contains death (murder), kidnapping, violence, skin trading, mentioned sex work, human trafficking (called "the skin trade" in here), weaponry, and I think that's it!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

Tricked Target

Time is as good as the kruge in your pockets in the Barrel. You know this well, considering you have little of both; money and time. Or perhaps you have too much time. It simply depends on how one sees it, you suppose.

Someone might take you pouring over papers on a desk as a waste of time. See the mahogany wood, stained dark, and curl their lips as the sheer money it must've taken to buy.

Someone else might realize this isn't your office, isn't your desk, and keep their mouth shut.

Tonight, that happens to be an unfortunate man named Zade Oren. Tied in his leather chair, black ropes expertly woven, a gag stuffed in his mouth, and both Achilles slashed for good measure, he learned his lesson.

Don't piss you off.

And although he isn't technically keeping his mouth shut of his own free will, it still technically counts. You give him the slightest of glances, just enough to monitor the tears dripping down his face from wide eyes, before returning to the papers you're rifling through.

"This would be easier if you had just cooperated." You muse aloud, flicking through a ledger before abandoning it. "But you guys never do."

He makes a pathetic sort of whimpering that makes you grin.

You aren't a bad person. After all, you only enjoy the blood on your hands when it's from the right person. The type of person you have at your mercy right now, for example. If anything, you're as close to good as it gets in the barrel. A type of vigilante, rather than one of the profit-seeking groups.

Dime Lions, Black Tips, Razorgulls, The Liddies, Harley's Pointers. Now those are some bad organizations. You're still on the fence about The Dregs; you've seen them do as much good as they have bad. Mostly due to the smaller organization within them. Or maybe the Crows aren't part of the Dregs anymore; you don't care. They're not of interest to you.

"Ah. Here we go." You hum, finding a record of a transaction. Zade gives a feeble cry. Useless, these men who beg for their lives. As if you'll ever give them back.

The transaction seems harmless enough. Four pearls for a sum of money. A sum far too large to be worth even some really fucking nice pearls. And, most importantly, names of the buyer and seller. Your eyes ghost over Zade's name as the buyer, focusing on the seller's name instead.

Then, you crumple up the paper and stuffs it in your pocket.

Pearls. What a stupid code name. The sellers determine it, and they're never very creative with code names. Always something valuable, never something believable.

All it takes is one person (you, in this case) to see what it really means.

Kids.

"I should be going, I think." You finally say, straightening. "Don't worry, don't worry. No more people need to get hurt anymore."

Zade slumps in relief, and you let a wicked grin stretch over your face.

"Oh, no, you've misunderstood. No people will be harmed by me tonight. But you're not really a person, are you?" Your head tilts, watching the panic wash over his features.

Like a cat toying with a mouse, you are. It's just so amusing though, to witness the fear. To let them experience what they've instilled in so many others. That despair? It's precious.

Your knife is sinking into his chest before he can protest any more. Pushing past the hard bone, sinking into his heart with a sick squelch. By the time you pull it out, he's already dead.

"Fool." You sigh, leaving him there and striding over to the window. Let his guards find him later, you don't care.

And when you hoist yourself out the window, scaling onto the roof, the office is almost as you found it. Only his dead body and a note to proclaim the kill as justified.

It reads the same as always: Hurt a kid and I'll hurt you next.

The Avenger is the name people like to call you. Or the rumors of you. Most of Ketterdam has the wrong ideas about you, but you aren't fixing to correct them. False assumptions only make your job far easier.

Honestly, you'd rather be called a protector. But avenger works just as fine. It gets the point across.

A shiver runs up your spine when you're standing on the rooftop, but a cursory glance around shows nobody. You didn't expect it to, but still. The feeling of eyes following you has only gotten stronger recently, but seeing as nobody has attempted to kill you yet you assume it's fine.

Some people are just too curious for their own good and like being spies. As long as they aren't fucking up your plans, you really don't care. Honestly. The feeling of eyes is perfectly fine with you.

"You could say hi. I don't bite." You murmur into the still air, but to no avail.

The feeling doesn't leave as you head back to your home, a dingy apartment near a lot of the gambling dens. It's rented from a landlord who couldn't give less of a shit—she's never met the guy—which was perfect for you. And the place was cheap, which was a big bonus. Not that you were hurting for money, because you had no problems about stealing from those you killed, but you preferred to use it for better things.

Like buying new knives.

Dropping back down to the alleys, your feet hit the cobbles without a single sound. Subtlety was an art form, one everyone had to perfect in the barrel. Unless they were rich enough to get away without it, but you were not. Sadly.

There's footsteps behind her, and you turn to glare at the stranger. Give them a silent warning to mind their own fucking business.

Luck is not on your side today though, because they lunge at you with outstretched hands and a knife. You dodge, slamming your body into a wall to avoid the attack, hands scrambling for your own daggers.

The attacker is big, an ugly snarl stretched out across his mug, a beard covering half his face. Professional, if you had to guess, and definitely after you. Oh, joy.

This time, you don't give him the opening he wants. You dart forward, metal gleaming, knowing that the only way to walk away is to remove the obstacle in your path. In other words: kill him.

You both scramble, your knife digging into his forearm due to a nicely executed move on his part, but you abandon it in his arm to stab at him with another. A hand on your arm, metal meeting metal, it's a raw fight. Evenly matched.

But you must be off, must be mentally occupied, because you don't hear the footsteps behind you until it's too late. It's not until something slams into your head, sending you staggering with black spots, do you realize someone else is here.

"And that's meant to be the Avenger?" The person behind you scoffs.

"They put up a pretty good fight before you came in." Burly guy answers, stepping toward you.

His shoes are the last thing you see before your eyes roll back.

-

There's a hood over your head.

When you blinks your eyes open, you're met with complete and utter darkness. Although you want to panic—desperately—you don't. You can feel the ropes tying you to some type of chair, your wrists pulled together behind the back of it and your ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Panicking now wouldn't do anything for you, so you just sit in silence.

But you're frustrated. So frustrated that you let your guard drop, that you've gotten yourself into this situation. You refuse to be another Mar, refuses to be the second Avenger that befalls the fate they tried to prevent.

"Makes sense now why he's wanting 'em." Someone is saying, and you try to subtly tilt your head to listen in. "He's always collecting 'em dangerous skinny ones."

"Putting together his own little menagerie." A second voice joins in, laughing.

The words have you tensing, against all instincts. Are they selling you to the menagerie?

Everyone knows what the menagerie is. Girls, tricked into sex work—and sometimes men—and people all too willing to take advantage of them. One of the things you worked against, and, subsequently, one of your worst nightmares.

"Serves this one right. Sardonic, isn't it?"

"You mean ironic?"

"What the difference?"

Oh, saints. You haven't just been kidnapped, but you've been kidnapped by idiots.

"Both of you stop. He'll be here soon." And that's a third voice. Only two people grabbed you, and you're willing to bet this third is the boss.

You don't recognize the voice, but you haven't exactly heard the voices of many people that are high in the chain in the Barrel. Not unless it's them begging for life, and you never hear from them again after.

But now you know for certain that they won't be sending you to the actual menagerie at least. The double confirmation is nice, even if the unknown is a whole other worry.

A door opens somewhere, and there's an abrupt rush of footsteps.

"You're early!" Probably boss guy shouts way too loudly. "The Avenger is all ready for you, but still knocked out."

"How long ago did you grab them?" Oh, that's a new voice. Faintly familiar, although you can't tell from where.

It's been a long time since you've felt so helpless. Like things were out of your carefully measured control. Not since you came home to an empty apartment, a person missing from it.

"A few hours." Probably boss answers. You don't need your eyes to know he's leering at you.

"...and how hard did you hit? Saints."

"They're alive, ain't they? Pay up."

"How much did we agree on again?" A cool voice asks, and your head jerks up. You know that voice, you've stalked the owner of that voice.

Kaz Brekker.

"Oh, look at that. It lives." Probably boss laughs cruelly, and you attempt a glare at him through the hood. "And you know how much we agreed on. Hand it over, Brekker."

And there's your confirmation. Your didn't just imagine it; Kaz Brekker is buying you. Why? You've never interfered with his dealings. In fact, after confirming he isn't into the skin deal, you actively stayed out of his business. You definitely didn't need more enemies than you already have.

The sound of Kruge being exchanged, followed by gleeful exclamations, makes you grit your teeth. If Brekker wants a shot at you, he'll have to do a lot more than pay some money.

"Get out." Brekker says after a moment, cutting the guys who kidnapped you off.

"This is our-"

"Get. Out."

Nobody makes him repeat it a third time, as is evidenced by the sound of footsteps fading away.

He's bossy, but he has the power to be. The cool indifference in his tone, the brilliant business plays he's made. Scrappy, like you, but far more powerful. There's a raw hunger in him you don't have; that nobody but him has.

It's scary as hell.

"Untie them."

There's movement around you, and then the hood is yanked off. You squint, blinking a few times, before focusing on the irritatingly put-together man in front of you. Although looking roughly the same age as you, the Barrel makes anyone be adults far too fast.

Brekker stares down at you, gloved hands clasped onto his cane. Behind him, a Suli girl hovers. Inej, his wraith. A spy, as far as anyone knows. Not an assassin. So that means whoever is working on untying you is Jesper.

"You're in quite the situation." He notes dully, but there's a wicked gleam in his eyes.

It only makes you glare harder. "Thanks, I'm aware."

The rope around your wrists falls away and you bring your hands to your lap, but don't move to untie your ankles. There's a sharpshooter behind you and a girl with knives in front of you; You aren't completely stupid. And that's not to mention the damage you know Brekker can do too.

"I have a deal for you." Brekker says after a moment, taking a step forward. He switches his crow-headed cane to his left hand, holding out his right for a handshake.

You don't take it. "What's the deal?"

"I don't think you're in a position to be asking questions."

"What's. The. Deal?"

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear. Take the deal right now, or we'll dump your body in the harbor to drown."

Well. That's not a lot of options. Everyone knows to negotiate all terms of a deal before accepting, but what choice do you have? He's brilliant for this move, and you hate him for it. Saving your life, buying you, just to force you into a deal to live.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, reason why this is such a horrible idea, you're shaking his hand. 

"Screw you." You spit out, life-saving be damned. Your grip tightens, just to spite him. Although his lips tug down, he doesn't pull away.

His reply is passive.

"Welcome to the crows."

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 1

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

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

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

Chapter word count: 20.8k words

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

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

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

Spring, first year in the force

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like how to pick locks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 11

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: I expect we're near the endgame now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

Clark lands with an impact that makes your skull rattle. Your ears ring as the world around you smears. He lets you go and you stumble away. He keeps you off balance as he grabs you again, spinning you as you whimper helplessly.

He rips your hoodie down your arms, tugging it free only to use the sleeve to restrain your wrists. He keeps you facing away from him, forcing you to your knees as he shoves his knee into your back. He puts you on your stomach and bends your legs up, securing your feet with the other sleeve so you’re facedown in the dirt.

You heave as your tears spring out unchecked. He parts from you, his soles mulching the dirt as your sobs echo. You squirm until you fall onto your side, bound helpless as you let your horror mount to frantic screams.

“Help! Someone!”

He hushes you and bends to grip your jaw. You quiet, choking on your voice as you look past him. Canopies of leaves ripple above him, you smell water nearby, a freshness that lends a coolness to the air. He snarls and drags you across the ground, placing you against the brush along the jutting rock wall.

“Scream all you want. No one out here.”

“Please, Clark, please,” you plead through pathetic babbles, “I didn’t–why– why did you– Richard—”

“You promised you loved me. That you would never hurt me–”

“I was scared–”

“You lied to me,” he growls as he paces back and forth, “you betrayed me!”

“No, no, I was just afraid. I was afraid you’d hurt me, Clark, honey, I swear–”

“Hurt you?”

“You’re married,” you whimper, “I knew we could never be together–”

“I know.” He grits out as he stops to face you, his eyes glowing eerie crimson, “you know. Lois is dead. This was our chance and you ran–”

“Dead? Clark–”

“Stop lying,” he barks, “I can hear your fucking heart amp up every time you do. So stop.”

You sniffle and shudder in the dirt. Prickly vines poke at you as you give in to the futility. You’re not getting away this time. Your lashes are webbed with tears, adding a soft glare to your vision. You look up at Clark and pout.

“I can be better… please,” you beg. “What are you going to do to me?”

He raises his chin and stares up at the sun. You murmur and curl your fingers into your palm. You wait in the deafening silence of the moment. The chitter of birds and scramble of critters is dulled by your dread.

“Make you better,” he says as he spins to face the sprawl of trees.

He clutches his fists tight and a sudden rush of air blows over you as he zips up into the sky. It feels as if the earth lurches beneath the force of his departure. You fall back against the rock wall, leaning your elbow on it as you gape up after him.

“SOMEONE!” You screech, even as you know he’s right, that no one will hear, “SOMEONE PLEASEEEEEEEE!”

🖊

Your lungs burn and your throat turns raw. You have nothing left. Your fruitless screams die as you lay in the dirt, wriggling only a few inches this way or that. Twigs and pebbles jab through your clothing and the dewy patches of grass stain the fabric. 

This is it. This is the end. The sheen of disbelief slowly fades. That denial that it couldn’t be real. You are just an intern and he is just a journalist. A lonely man looking for company where he shouldn’t. No, he is a murderer. You witnessed it. You’ve seen the rage in him, you felt it, the insatiability that cannot be denied.

More than that, he is inhuman. He is something else. He is lauded as a superhero yet lurks like a villain behind the mask of Clark Kent.

You quiver and let out a deep heave. Breathless, exhausted, defeated. You let your head rest on the ground as the warmth of the sun pools over you through a gap in the branches above.

Sweat beads over your forehead and dampens your cheeks. It gathers beneath your clothing and trickles along your neck and back. You languish there in the beating of the summer heat and wait. For what comes next. For the inevitable.

As resignation sets in, your fate doesn’t seem so scary. Death is a finality. It is an end. It means that you will be free, even if that freedom is nothingness. There is relief in knowing that those weeks of torture have come to a head. You’ve met the climax and now you’re in the falling action, plummeting towards the finale.

A gust sweeps over you and the earth shakes. You let out a yipe at the flash of colour and the clatter left behind. In a second, he is gone again, whooshing up into the expanse as the din of the forest resumes. You look over at the large ax leaning against the cliffside, a hand saw beside it, and few other tools you can’t place. What?

He returns, surprising you again. The clunk of a heavy chest hits the dirt. You flinch and try to turn your body. The effort leaves you hollow as you manage to roll against the jutting rock wall. 

Several more hurtling trips and Clark finally stands still, curls mussed from the excess but otherwise unshaken by his efforts. He grabs the ax as you stare at the wrapped packages of insulation, the bucket of plaster, and litany of materials. It can’t be–

He approaches a tree and swings the ax. He cuts through the trunk with a single strike. He lifts the gargantuan tree with a single arm and tosses it behind him. It bounces and rolls to a stop on the soft ground. He does it again, and again, and again. He clears at least a dozen trees without a glance or word in your direction.

You linger in stupefied silence. He approaches the pile of trees and pulls one out. He is little more than a blur as he works at breaking them down into neat planks. This has to be a nightmare. The distortion, the unreality of the moment can’t be true.

You gulp and lower your head. It makes you dizzy to watch him. You listen to the furor of his labour. The zip of the saw, the crack of the ax, and the rhythm of a hammer. When you peek over again, vision hazy with the beaming heat of the sun, there is a foundation built.

You shudder and blow out through your dry lips. You try to wet your mouth but your tongue is arid. You will against the ground, crushing your shoulder as you clench and unclench your fists.

You’re stunned by a sudden grip on your jaw that brings your head up. You nearly choke as Clark puts a bottle to your lips and pours water into your mouth. Your body gulps it down greedily as your thoughts remain disjointed and distorted.

He backs up and pulls the stump of a log over to sit across from you. He drains the last of the water and brings forward a paper bag. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches inside and takes out a granola bar. He wraps it and leans forward to offer it to you.

You stare at him. He presses it to your lips. You turn your face away.

“Eat,” he demands.

You sniff and push your head back against the side of the cliff, “why are you doing this?”

He sighs and retracts his arm. He breaks off a chunk of the bar. He doesn’t answer you.

“Clark, what are you doing?” You croak.

He gets off the log and comes closer, nearly straddling you as he drops onto his knees. He grabs your skull, turning your head straight, and forces the granola into your mouth. You murmur as he holds your jaw in place and your stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Eat.”

You don’t resist. You chew and swallow. He takes another piece and jams it through your lips; he does it again and again until the wrapper is empty. He backs up and perches again on the log.

You watch him as he looks over at his work so far. A whole wall built. It's not hard to guess at the goal, but you don’t understand why. Why doesn’t he just kill you? Like Lois. Like Richard.

“I’m building us a home,” he says as he drops his head into his hands and scratches along his hairlines, “just you and me.”

He sits up and combs his hair back. He stands and dusts off his palms. He stretches and peels off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and thickly muscled stomach. The hair along his torso speckles with his sweat.

“It must be done by nightfall,” he declares as he marches away.

You turn your attention back to the endless forest. You stare into the daunting sprawl and deflate. It isn’t a home he’s building, it’s a prison.

🖊

The house is complete. Clark carries you through the front door and puts you against the wall, just beneath the window. The interior is barren. No furniture, only a gaping fireplace and a small hoop anchored in the floor.

He unties you and stands over you, watching you as you sit up. Your shoulders and knees throb from being locked the whole day. He bends and pulls your left leg straight, he closes a metal cuff around your ankle and pushes a bolt into place. You kick your foot in fright as he lets it go and a chain clanks loudly as he lets it unfurl.

He attaches the other end to the loop in the floor. You whine and get to your knees.

“Clark, please, what are you doing?”

“I can’t trust you,” he sneers, “it’s for your own good…” he stands and looks above you, to the window, “you would only get lost out there.”

“No, please, you can trust me–”

He raises his hand and you quiet. You sit back on your heels and clasp your hands together. He shakes his head and waves you off, striding away without another word. He goes through the open door as you focus on the chain, touching the links in dread.

He returns and unzips a sleeping bag, spreading it over the floor. He leaves again, coming back with pillows and another blanket. He backs up, hands on his hips and looks over the makeshift set up.

“Tomorrow I will find a bed. Other things,” he turns and approaches the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantle above, “I will start a fire for the night. It’ll be cold soon.”

You want to scream. You want to wail. You want to call him a monster, tell him that he’s insane. But you know that won’t make this any better. You let go of the chain and raise yourself on your knees. You crawl on the blankets and make yourself small as you sit against the pillows.

“Thank you, Clark,” you squeak as you pull off your shoes and place them to the side.

He keeps his back to you, bowing his head as he sighs. Slowly, he shifts and glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours and he drags his hand off the mantle. He faces you as you carefully recline.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says grimly, “but it has to be like this. Just for now.”

“I know,” you say as you wince and rub your shoulder.

He sniffs and reluctantly turns away. His steps are lighter as he goes back through the door, returning with an armful of split logs. He stacks them by the fireplace before he works at starting a fire. You listen to his efforts and close your eyes. Only to hide, not to sleep.

The scent of the fire fills the cabin and he pulls the door shut. He nears and his shadow looms over you. He tugs on the blanket as he climbs down next to you and swoops it over you as he wraps an arm over your middle. He draws you closer, his breath fanning across your hair.

“I know you’re scared but one day, you’ll see,” he rumbles as he bends his arm, fondling your chest. Your stomach knots as he presses his pelvis flush to you, “I saved you… like you saved me.” 

His hand trails down and you hold your breath. His fingertips touch the top of your jeans and he pauses. He brushes his arm back up and embraces you again.

“Not tonight,” he resigns glumly, “I don’t forgive you yet.”

[maxwell-grant]

Since it's been going around, how would various pulp heroes take on the Death Note murders, and would they survive the ordeal?

A couple of clarifications:

There is a possibility that Ogon Bat, who is a "God of Justice", is either already some kind of shinigami, or at least able to speak with and interact with Ryuk just fine.

The Golden Amazon and Emilia the Ragdoll could definitely kick Kira's ass and solve the case, but they absolutely should not be aware of the existence of the Death Note, that would just make things worse.

You'd think The Monarch / The Blue Morpho getting his hands on the Death Note would be an equally apocalyptic scenario but I don't think he'd even know what to do with it. He very clearly just wants to get one guy, and became the Blue Morpho so he could kill everyone standing in the way of getting that guy, and he's very clearly been putting off killing that one guy for years now. The Death Note is the solution to a problem he defines his life around trying and failing to solve. He'd be stumped.

Doc Savage, well on one hand of course he would solve the case, he's Doc Savage, if Kira was in a Doc Savage story the whole Shinigami business would have been smoke and mirrors perpetrated by criminals with access to a heart attack inducing machine with a perfectly logical explanation. On the other hand, Doc Savage is one of the only guys in here who is globally famous with his full name and face on the papers, so realistically Kira would nail him very quickly. I'm gonna split the difference by saying Doc would solve the case either way.

Nick Carter does most of the things Doc Savage does except he actually does regularly encounter weird fantastical kitchen sink bullshit on the regular, so I think he'd have a much easier time wrapping his head around the Death Note's particulars.

The Spider would not intuit the mechanics of the Death Note, he probably would not be aware of there even being a thing as a Death Note, but by the end of the story in the last paragraph he would have killed Kira one way or another, very possibly by accident. Same goes for the sword-n-sorcery characters featured there, they would have gotten their kills by the end of it (Spear would probably have the easiest time, he's just a caveman with a giant tyrannosaurus on his side and neither of them have names Light can use to kill them, he's fucked)

Six-Gun Gorilla does have a name that Light could use, but A: He would never find out, B: He would never think a gorilla would be his undoing, and C: There's a decent chance Ryuk would let the gorilla hunt and kill him because it's funny and so would be handing Six-Gun Gorilla the Death Note.

Nyctalope would probably survive Kira's usual method of execution given his heart is artificial, but I don't think he'd be able to crack the case, he's not much of a detective. A lot of these characters were chosen because they have different skillsets that don't make them as suited for uncovering this case regardless of how smart they are.

There is a decent chance that Hugo Danner would figure out Kira by complete accident, and most likely beg Light to find a way to kill him.

Nick and Nora Charles would not solve it but they'd be okay, the case would probably solve itself and they'd laugh it off.

I could also put Blue Morpho, El Sombra, The Whisperer, Black Bat and Hugo Danner in a "Would somehow make the situation worse" category.

Putting the names of the characters below the cut:

Can intuit the mechanics / Can solve the case -The Shadow, Arsene Lupin, Sherlock Holmes, Mexican Fantomas -Heiji Zenigata, Ogon Bat, Thomas Carnacki, Silver John/John the Balladeer, Sar Dubnotal -Nero Wolfe, Tom Strong, Tesla Strong, Nick Carter, Captain Harlock, Golden Amazon -Ducky (Lavender Jack), Rufus Carter, Theresa Ferrier (Lavender Jack), Emilia the Ragdoll, Carmen Sandiego, Rocambole

Can intuit the mechanics / Could not solve the case -The Spirit, The Phantom, Edison Hark (The Good Asian), Lavender Jack -G-8, Green Lama, Peter Cannon, Jules Grandin, Wesley Dodds, Judex -Indiana Jones, Spider-Man Noir, John Blacksad, John Thunstone, Nyctalope, Tintin, Solomon Kane

Cannot the mechanics / Can solve the case -The Spider, The Avenger, Doc Savage, Honoria Crabb -Assane Diop, Conan the Barbarian, Lobster Johnson, Tarzan, Dick Tracy -Flash Gordon, Professor Challenger, Red Sonja, Scrooge McDuck, Imaro -Byomkesh Bakshi, Six-Gun Gorilla, Spear (Primal), Black Terror, The Blue Morpho

Cannot intuit the mechanics / Could not solve the case -Moon Man, Green Hornet & Kato, Lone Ranger, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh -Phillip Marlowe, Domino Lady, Rocketeer, Miss Fury, Hugo Danner, John Carter -Zorro, Black Bat, El Sombra, Shaft, Sailor Steve Costigan -Darkman, The Whisperer, Nick & Nora Charles, Crimson Clown

[lampochkaart]

hi I wanted to get your opinion on this since I've never seen anyone talk about it so idk if it's just me who thinks this. but. do you think miu's murder plan is bungled purely for plot reasons? bcs I don't know why she would choose to murder kokichi instead of shuichi.

she chooses the rooms everyone searches in so she could have made shuichi search the roof and kaito search the other room behind tsumugi and then logged out kokichi and framed him. it doesn't really make sense why she wouldnt kill the one guy who helps most in trials and frame the next smartest guy who no one is gonna believe if he tries to figure stuff out. I know the poison thing gets cleared up quickly but it still doesn't prove the innocence of the person who gets logged out.

it's weird cause her plan was almost perfect but that part is just fucked up a little? I'm thinking that they don't really explain why since she needs to try and kill kokichi for the plot progression. you would assume bcs maybe she has some beef w kokichi but she seemed pretty apologetic and apprehensive to do it. my only guess is maybe she felt most comfortable killing kokichi and would feel bad if it was anyone else but she would have to get everyone else killed in the trial so idk.

Hi!! That's an interesting thing to think about

I'm actually not really sure about her plan being "perfect". Thing is, yes, she could've lied about anything in the virtual world. But also she would've still been the most suspicious person there, because she modified the game and literally begged them all to go there. And judging by how quickly she's getting nervous when she's pressured during the trials I really don't think if she would've been able to lie for long. So I'm not sure if she had much of a chance of getting away with murder of anyone.

As to why she decided to try to kill Kokichi and not Shuichi, well. I think there are two possible reasons for that. First of all, Shuichi had a "protection squad". If Miu had killed Shuichi she would've got on a bad side of both a guy with a short temper, who had punched people before, and of a *literal asassin*. Because, don't forget, Maki's best friends not just with Kaito, but with Shuichi too. Yes, they probably would've been very suspicious of Kokichi at first, but if he would've been able to make them question Miu more, this would've become a a very stressful and dangerous situation for her.

Kokichi, on the other hand, didn't really have the group of people that would be so eager to avenge him. Another person who doesn't really have a "support system" is Himiko, because after Ch.3 she lost hers. So, technically Miu could've went after her. But maybe she didn't want to, because they all kinda shared a scene at the end of the third trial. Plus, people would've been mad at miu for going after someone who's already in a bad place. And, not to be rude, but Himiko doesn't help much during the trials. Same goes for Gonta. People like him and also killing him wouldn't make a class trial easier for Miu. Tsumugi is generally just overlooked. And killing Maki or Kaito would create the same problems as killing Shuichi (people from the friend group who'd survive would come after her).

Kokichi isn't well liked. Yes, people would be upset and would try to find the killer as usual, but none of the people were really attached to him. Exept for maybe Gonta, who would feel upset, but he's not really a threat to the killer in regards of investigation. I still think that Miu's plan wouldn't work and she would've been found out. But I think Kokichi made more sense as a choice for her to kill.

But those are just some thoughts about different possibilities. The main reason why I think Miu went after Kokichi is because... She was aftaid. She was really nervous about working with Kokichi and building all that stuff for him. She was very anxious because Kokichi was putting a target an his own back and by working with her he was doing the same to her. We know that she was very paranoid about it and was trying to put some distance between herself and him to avoid getting targeted. She probably was feeling like very soon the mastermind or whoever else would come for her. And that was putting her on edge.

It's hard to say what was going on in her mind then. Maybe she tried to kill Kokichi because she thought that it would kinda help her get on the mastermind's/Monokuma's good side. Like by killing him she would prove that there's no funny business here and she would not be killed, because maybe she thought the mastermind might hesistate to let her go after she would've won the trial, or that she might have a chance of bargaining for her life if she would've lost. Ultimately we have no idea what she was thinking. But my personal theory is that Kokichi's actions (and maybe behaviour too) were stressing her out, so she decided to get him killed just to be safe. It's true that she was nervous and apologetic about killing him, because, yeah, she didn't really have a beef with him. But she also was very anxious and stressed so, I think, it might have been the reason that pushed her to murder.

And lastly I just want to adress that while, yes, she would have gotten everyone killed after the trial if she would've won. But she wouldn't have killed them directly. Maybe she would even got to leave before they would be killed so she wouldn't have to watch. Either way, killing someone directly is much harder than indirectly causing their death. It could also be why she chose to kill Kokichi in the virtual world. Because that would've made this feel more impersonal. She would've killed Kokichi's avatar, which, yes, would result in his death, but she wouldn't even have to see his corpse right away. So killing an avatar alreasy distances her from the act of murder, but letting everyone die from making a wrong choice would separate her from it almost completely. We're not discussing here any lasting consequences of those actions, but as far as the immediate feelings concerned, psychologically it would be much easier for her to just make everyone pick the wrong culprit.

Of course we can't know for sure what Miu was thinking and why she tried to do what she tried to do, it's all just a speculation. It's just how I personally interpret Miu's thoughts and actions in this case.

I hope that reading my thoughts was interesting. Thank you for the ask and have a good day!

[mauveberries]

Why do you even ship tomarry? Like it honestly seems from most of your posts that you don’t have a very favorable view of Harry or Tom’s feelings/treatment of him, so what do you even like about it? Genuinely confused why you aren’t maining bellamort when nearly every post I’ve seen from you has put Harry down in some way and found a way to bring Bella or one of the other Blacks up.

ok, this is a very good question and i understand where you are coming from. i really do. this is what it seems like if you take a quick glance of my blog and you're right, i have thought about this myself too.

but the truth of the matter is, i like bellamort, but i dont love that ship, whereas i love tomarrymort if it is done right.

tomarrymort is a very difficult ship to bring together in a Realistic way, Because of all the problems i have pointed out. bellatrix happens to be one of my favourite characters and i hate the way she is treated as an unfavorable side character who has to compete with harry for voldemort's affections but loses because harry is v's pwecious liddol horcrux.

to me, that just ruins my whole mood for reading the fic because i believe that bella doesn't have to compete at all, not when she is objectively already so much better than harry in Voldemort's eyes. He favours those who are cruel, cunning and devoted to the cause. None of which harry is or possesses.

a truly good harrymort fic would have overcome this issue, not just make voldemort like how much harry hates him and learn to live with it, because who tf would like that??? Oh hey! Look at me! My partner hates me because i murdered his family and am advocating for the destruction of all the people like him! Isn't he fucking beautiful with his murderous eyes! Haha!

like.. not it.

and harry can't just suddenly turn all pureblood supremist and be like, omg, i should be v's favourite because i overcame my views from the past and.. and Bellatrix sucks because she killed sirius!!!!!

and voldemort would not like to be antagonised everytime he's trying to live. i hate to break it to you, but harry can't stop him from murdering people, but bellatrix would stand next to him, also torturing people, so obviously, bellamort is the easier ship.

but that doesn't necessarily mean i like it more.

i am a huge fan of enemies to lovers and if done right, can be peak.

and i am not a fan of the trope where voldemort urges harry to hurt him because voldenort killed his parents and welcomes harry's rage. it's so fucking stupid, like, please slap me because i killed your parents and facilitated in the murder of your godfather who was wrongly imprisoned for 13 years because of me, and you are sooo mad at me for it. just, no.

he is not the type of person to beg. at all. voldemort is a taker, he takes advantage and he exploits. he does this to bella, too. why did she end up in jail? because she was serving him! does it seem like he apologised to bella for it? No! So why should harry be any different?? Especially harry, because it was due to harry that he lost the war in the first place!

so, voldemort himself would harbour a LOT of resentment towards harry, not just the other way around, and im telling you, it won’t be easy to get over this hatred, and i think that should be explored more. Not just voldemort Suddenly being interested in harry because harry is the only one brave enough to outwardly hate him (which is literally such a stupid, shallow reason for voldemort to take any notice of him at all.)

It looks like neither harry nor v is willing to compromise and this is the challenge they have to overcome in order to get together.

voldemort is a character who does not bend to anyone's wills and having him bend to harry's will is a discredit to his character. at its core, tomarrymort will always be a toxic ship because of their fundamental different world views and i like it when it is kept that way, and with Voldemort being horribly overbearing. harry cannot keep him in check, he's just a kid compared to Voldemort's age.

tom is also someone who believes anything can be solved with murder and if harry refuses him, and he doesn't like harry vey much, it will end in bloodshed and that is what i like about this horrifying pairing in the first place. the fact that v would not hesitate to kill unless it is one of his closest followers. This is a challenge that has to be overcome too.

im also sick and tired of harry always being given the preferential treatment in fics just because he's witty and sassy or whatever, like this isn't canon. he's just some guy, not tom riddle who was a prodigy since eleven, not bellatrix who even harry described as being powerful.

and don't you think it's stale that the fact that harry is a horcrux is always always some kind of basis to them getting together??? it's just sooo... overused and the fic community is saturated with the same tropes over and over again.

and tom and harry are not murder husbands. Just.. no. It's either butchering tom's character or harry's character. And im telling you frankly, if you want murder husbands, that is literally voldemort x genderbent bellatrix.

And i know that harry is most peoples favourite character, so voldemort is not given enough justice in their writing. His character is always butchered when harry outsmarts him or something and im sick and tired of it. Like, yeah voldemort is not a good person, but if you hate him so much, why are you shipping harrymort? Literally leave.

Overall, it is not the ship i hate, i just really hate some of the overused tropes and think they can be done better. me putting it this way can seem like i don’t like harry, which is not true. it’s just that i hate this fandom’s glorification of him and how they think that voldemort always owes him something for being a terrible person, which i think is really ooc.

my inclusion of bella and the blacks into their dynamics has thus nothing to do with my dislike for harry, but more so on the fact that the complete disregard this fandom has for bellatrix angers me.

Important disclaimer!!!:

I am in no way bashing anyone or any trope. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinions and writing. I hope you understand that this is simply my perspective and if i have hurt any of your feelings, i apologise. Please keep writing whatever you wish to write. Everyone's writing is truly a gift to this community and keep writing what makes you happy.

[go-to-the-mirror]

Every day I think about episode 160 and cry. Like. Like. Jesus christ! The. Everything. Like. Every so often I think of TheOestOfOCs’ tag on their Dracula fusion fic, “this is still a fix it fic compared to canon” AND IT IS??? Fucking. Apparently Elias kidnapping Jon and turning him into a vampire and generally being the most awful person ever is a FIX IT FIC compared to what we’ve got.

And I’m like, I’m not complaining, I signed up for this, but like yeah, signed up for this (emotional ruin), but that doesnt make me HAPPIER ABOUT IT?

Okay, so, it’s three years, about. Starts in 2015, 2016. Ends in 2018. Because. Goddamnit. And it’s just. He gets eaten by fucking worms. You know that line, “one hand on the gas release from the start”? That line lives in my head rent free, because it’s… Elias is holding the cards, he has Jon’s fate in the bloody PALM OF HIS HAND and just… yknow how. Like. Fucked up Jon is in MAG 40? How he keeps asking them to Please Not Talk About The Worms, I Know About The Worms, Stop, I Beg Of Thee. And Elias is there, Elias is talking, Elias is seeing all of this and he’s just like “jolly good, job well done, 11 more to go!”

And just… Sasha. Tim. Melanie, Martin. Basira and Daisy. Everyone who got caught in the crossfire. Sasha, who died, unintentionally on Elias’ part, for a mark that was redundant. Tim, who died saving a world Elias knew was never in danger from the Unknowing. Melanie, who had to gouge her bloody eyes out, because Elias decided she was useful to him.

Useful. Fucking bastard.

And then, and then, season 3, right! God, I’m just thinking about Jude Perry’s mark, because that’s a burn, he probably didn’t go to a hospital, since he was on the run for a murder, so considering Lightless Flame nonsense, that’s probably a severe burn that probably caused nerve damage, caused a difficulty moving that hand, presumably the right hand, because I don’t think they were doing a scouts handshake. And while I do try make all my blorbos left-handed, Jon’s most likely right-handed. And even if he’s not, he still probably can’t move his right-hand right because someone decided to end the world through him, like a fucking bastard! That’s what gets me, right. It’s that everything, everything Jon’s bloody been through for Elias’ plans is immortalized on his skin, with his scars. Psychological trauma just isn’t enough for him, there has to be a constant reminder every time Jon looks at himself.

And then! And then! Speaking of season 3, what the fuck was that second kidnapping? Like, first kidnapping was horrifying but it was “for the plan” and the third kidnapping was in America and somehow “not that bad,” yknow, compared to finding out you’re like, physically dependent on reading horror stories, and your fucking awful bastard of a boss decided to drop that bombshell on you while you were actively, yknow, GETTING SICK FROM IT! Oh Joy. But second kidnapping was a) redundant, he’d already gotten the Stranger mark. b) completely fixable.

Completely fucking fixable. Just. Tell them. Tell them where he is, or tell them that’s he’s been kidnapped, if Elias doesn’t know, I think he did, because I think he’s exactly the kind of bastard who would just let it happen despite knowing exactly how to stop it.

And you know why? Why I think? Because that’s easier, right. It’s harder to be self-destructive, it’s harder to throw yourself into Situations, it’s harder to be isolated when you have one extra month to reconnect with your colleagues.

A month. Maybe the month would have done nothing. Maybe the month would have helped Jon and Tim. Or Jon and Melanie. Or Jon and Basira. Jon and Martin were already fine, and Jon and Daisy at that point is… ah… Nope.

And you think a month is bad? 6 months. And I know, everyone was suffering — Martin especially— while Jon was gone, and I know that it’s other people’s trauma that he’s watching and actively perpetuating, but! That’s also traumatizing!! It’s traumatic to have to watch other people’s worst nightmares for six months straight with no end in sight. It’s traumatic to have to. Everything??? Fucking everything in MAG 120??? I can pull quotes but that’ll detract from the rambliness of this. I’ll do that sometime, I will.

And honestly, season 4 is just a fucking mess, it’s. It’s. I’m sad about it. I’m Very sad about it, and. God. Like. It’s just. Melanie hates him, and part of that is because Elias used him as a meat shield in MAG 101, not all, not most, but part. Jon’s a monster now, and he’s hurting people, and there’s got to be a little voice in his head telling him he’s just like Elias when Elias is the one who made him like this. And they’re tearing each other apart and Jon is diving into Situations and Elias is watching from prison all fucking smug and then MAG 158 happens, god. damn. MAG 158 happens.

“I called you.” Like a fucking dog. Like. Like. “Are you scared, Jon” “Yes” “Good”

I have the words for MAG 159. A bet. A fucking bet. A motherfucking bet. I do not think I need to detail how horrifying and dehumanizing and horrible that is???? I don’t think I need to do that.

A bet. A bet.

And it brings us back to MAG 160. Make him monologue every fucking time this happened, every fucking time Elias used him to end the world, marked him, can’t word. But. Horrifying. Jesus.

2, 3 years. “You are a living chronicle of terror” what kind of fear. Over two years, just. Two fucking years.

But it’s not two. Not three.

It’s his whole bloody life, his whole life, leading up to this. End the world. Spread it. This is it, his purpose, he’s spent so long hurting himself for a purpose.

And at the end, after everything he’s done, after everything that’s been done to him, by Jonah Magnus, by the Web or fears or-

He can’t break free. He follows his purpose. He dances the steps he was assigned.

[thornethenorn]

Tagged by @violentnornography and I don't tag others because I have anxiety lols. Made myself keep the epic saga song choices to two or less

SIX SONG SOUNDTRACK GAME - THORNE VÆTKISSON

ππππππππππππππππππππππππππππππππ

An Event that Defines their Past

Hartebeest - Yaelokre

Hazel beneath our claws As we wait for cerulean to cry Unsettled ticks run though time, Enough for the Hunt¹ to go awry Where do we go When the river's running slow? Where do we run When the acres turn green, And the cats² kill one by one?

How they see themselves

Unsweetened Lemonade - Amélie Farren

It's hard to finish sentences I'll sell my pride instead Cause it's easier to focus I'm just the price above my head People think I'm pretty So I'll buy a hotel room One bed trope without the tension The child and her groom I fucked the reaper³ Cuz’ I knew my time had come, Why can't you see? I didn't die at twelve I guess im here till ninety-three

How others see them

Different Beast - EPIC the Musical

He is a different beast now, he is the one who feasts now No more of us deceased, 'cause he won't take more suffering from you He is the man-made monster, he is the one who conquers You are a threat no longer, he won't take more suffering from you

Their closest Relationship (Platonic or Romantic)

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE - Måneskin

I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master⁴ I wanna make your heart beat Run like dollar coaster I wanna be a good boy, I wanna be a gangster Cuz’ you can be the beauty and I can be the monster⁵

A Major Fight Scene

Six Hundred Strike - EPIC the Musical

How does it feel to be helpless? (Argh) How does it feel to know pain? (Ugh) I watched my friends die in horror (Ah-ah) Crying as they were all slain (Ugh) I heard their final moments (Argh) Calling their captain⁶ in vain (Ugh) Look what you turned me into (Ah-ah) Look what we've become (Ugh, enough) All of the pain that I've been through (Stop) Haven't I suffered enough? (Stop) You didn't stop when I begged you Told me to close my heart (You) You said the world was dark (Monster) Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—

Ending Credits

What You're Made Of - Arrested Youth

I walk alone, down the street Don't need your prayer, no sympathy I wear my pride, round my neck So it's best you watch your steps 'Cause I've been up, I've been down I've been kicked at on the ground But I stand tall where I'm at Been to hell but now I'm back⁷ When death comes knocking at your door And nothing's left worth fighting for Say a little prayer and pull the rug Show me what you're made of Kingdom come is falling down No one's left to save you now Say a little prayer and pull the rug Show me what you're made of

References

1 - The event important to his past is The Great Hunt. The Hunt 'going awry' is representing the way he went from killing Issormir to becoming the Commander to hunt and kill elder dragons- specifically Jormag.

2 - Thorne is half cat. "One by One" refers to each Elder Dragon.

3 - "but losercat! Joko is a scourge, not a reaper!" Shut up shut the FUCK up

4 - Thorne's more intimate traumas certainly don't go away when he gets into a stable relationship, but he now has a healthier way of expressing it. He'd never be a top or dom tho.

5 - He's half cat and a murderer, making him a "monster." Especially compared to Yao.

6 - Commander.

7 - The Domain of the Lost. Could also be symbolically referring to any other traumatic event, like the Forbidden Vault, dying for 30 seconds in the Harvest Temple, nearly being killed by Bangar, being forced into his first best friend, finding his mother's murdered corpse, etc.

[wordsinhaled]

You said that your ask box was open a little bit ago so hello! ik you're currently on a dr. who & GO streak but I recently heard the song "Til You Love Me" and I was curious as to your thoughts on it regarding Dreamling, because. uh. :

Please, don't say I'm wasting my time I've got nothing but time so I'll do all that I can to catch That ghost of a chance

&

But if dreams give you power Then I'm strong enough to offer my heart And never give up till you love me Until you love me

&

I looked in your eyes, so bright and so blue And that's when I knew that you could be mine If good things come to those who will wait Well, I guess I can wait if that's what I have to do Oh, it's worth it for you

And I'm aware that that's like half the song quoted but it is so them coded in my mind.

It admittedly came out in 1995 so not something that Hob could be thinking about during the Missed Meeting (tm) but still. look at those lyrics!

yes - my ask box is always open for anything at all! thank you so much for the ask <3

this song IS so dreamling coded, gosh!!!

this is possibly a PATENTLY ridiculous idea but—

i'm imagining modern day dreamling (maybe post-reunion and post-dream telling hob who he is, but before they actually get together?) where there's a Classic karaoke night at the new inn and hob invites dream. he thinks dream will probably find it deeply silly and trivial and beg off, seeing as he's the king of dreams and all, but dream actually shows up and hob is thrilled to see him... and he ends up singing this song to dream in the cheesiest possible way, as the night is dwindling down.

it may take him all night to work up the courage to do it but it's both the goofiest and most earnest slightly-tipsy-but-completely-serious love confession of all time, in the end. everybody who works at the inn and even some of the regulars have been hearing robbie talk about how gone he is on his best friend for AGES so there may or may not be some cheering when hob sways up to the mic and goes "you know i don't often sing at these things, but i'm dedicating this to someone very special to me. so, erm, here goes," and then grins right at dream.

after the song is over there's a bunch of clapping hob's not actually sure he deserves for that rendition but dream is giving him an inscrutable look, and hob is blushing like mad as though he's a lad of barely twenty and not nearly seven hundred years old. he passes the mic to the next person and shoulders his way through the crowd to dream, who is still looking at him. hob's inner monologue is something like, well, he either wants to murder me for embarrassing him or eat me alive. murder'd be fine right now actually.

"hob gadling," dream says.

"hello," hob says—and despite himself can't keep the soppy grin off his face. it's still so new having dream here, again, in the flesh. "didn't think i'd see you tonight."

"you are a fine singer, my friend," dream tells him.

hob barks a laugh. "hardly! i was just—" this is where he can play it off as a joke. dream had just called him his friend. this is where he can still save even a tiny bit of face and pretend he hasn't been in love with dream since thirteen fucking eighty nine. but... in the end he can't bring himself to pretend. "well, that song's always reminded me of you, i suppose."

"it has been a long time since someone offered up a love song in my honor," dream says. it should come off as a totally pretentious thing to say, really, but dream's mouth is turned up at one corner in the beginnings of a smile, and instead the words make hob's heart do a little flip.

hob tries not to think of all the people (humans? gods? fey creatures? other immortals?) who have dedicated romantic ballads to dream in the past. he wishes he had something to occupy his twitching fingers with, to make it easier to fight the urge to reach over and take dream's long pale hand where it rests on the table next to his wine glass.

and basically like. REALLY SAPPY trying-not-to-flirt-but-still-flirting! and hob is trying to be all chivalrous about it, all, "it doesn't have to mean anything that i badly sang you this soppy song!!!! you called me your friend and i value you so much as a friend!!!!!! i promise i'm not trying to pressure you!!!! i just want you to know how important to me you are—" and dream is all "calling someone a friend is something that can be So Much Deeper Than That if you're dream of the endless" and then they have a sappy lil first kiss because clearly the thing that broke the dam on his Feelings for hob was hearing a mediocrely-sung karaoke version of a reba mcentire song performed for him under dive bar mood lighting :))))

<3 <3 <3

[icannotgetoverbirds]

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO MANIPULATION

You are not immune to manipulation, and the sooner you accept that, the better! Believing that you are immune to manipulation makes you easier to manipulate because you don't see it coming and there's now shame attached to admitting that possibility!

People who get manipulated are not stupid or foolish - they are victims! I cannot stress this enough! If you have been manipulated, it does not mean you are or were stupid, it means that you are HUMAN. We are social creatures, wired in such a way that our wants and needs can be (and often are!) turned against us!

And even if only "stupid" people were getting manipulated? They still wouldn't deserve it! The idea that they would reeks of ableism! Plus, if you take a label and say that anyone it's attached to deserves bad things, it'll only be a matter of time before the people in power slap that label on you! Yes, you!

It's the same reason why we need to not be calling for pedophiles to be murdered - because now conservatives are labeling queer people as groomers, knowing that it'll pull that emotional hair-trigger just about everybody across all political spectrums has developed!

That aside. Terfs will play nice. Cults will play nice. MLMs will play nice. People trying to take advantage of you will play nice. And you may think you'll always be able to see through it. Maybe you really are pretty good at spotting it, and that's great! But you are not immune, and your experience is not universal.

You want to know who these kinds of people prey on? The most vulnerable of us. The outcasts, the poor, the uneducated, the desperate, the isolated, the people with nowhere left to run and nobody left to turn to. So maybe get off your high horse about how you'd never fall for such an obvious trap and lend a helping hand to those that need it the most. Because if you don't, they will - and the debt that vulnerable people will incur from that 'help' will haunt them.

You wanna know how I know this?

I was born and raised in a cult.

I didn't break free because I was smart or special or a better person than anyone else in the cult - I broke free because the cult has been weakening, and the timing of their loosening grip lined up with the pandemic, my values, my wants, and believe it or not, my fucking autism, and I got lucky. Very, very lucky.

I wasn't stupid, either. I didn't fall for the cult, I was manipulated into it as a child because of undue influence. I had no other choice. I was a vulnerable person. Had I had support and space to question things, had I been better educated on manipulation tactics, had I not been dependent on my parents for literally everything, I might've escaped sooner. I might've gotten to experience childhood and adolescence as a boy, as myself.

Do you understand what I'm saying? We have got to stick together. We have got to stick together. We have got to stick together. Either we stick together, and fight together, and protect each other - especially the vulnerable people - or the people who want to use us will divide and conquer.

Those people will get their barbed hooks into our community and it's going to be painful and difficult to get them out. They will target our family, every marginalized and downtrodden person, and when they're gone, we won't have enough left to fight anymore. Do you understand? Do you get it? That's how they get us. That's how it's happened before, and it's happening again.

Please. Please listen to this. I am begging you, do not leave the vulnerable behind. Do not leave them behind. Do not leave us behind. Don't let them divide us.

Please.

[blindedguilt]

do you think leonard and 1.3 leonard would get along

//I JUST SAW THIS AND???? THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I'VE WONDERED ABOUT THIS THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT PLEASE BUCKLE IN BECAUSE???? OUGHHHH........

//To start off, I think DOD1 Leonard would be a neat(?) reflective novelty in the eyes of 1.3 - a look into what he could have been if things had gone only slightly differently, and maybe on some level, still kinda exists inside him. I think he'd feel a bit half-relatable, half-sympathetic type of pity for DOD1 Leonard, and 1.3 would get along with him just fine!! Maybe he can lend him some of his own wisdom to help him on his journey. :-) //...But as for DOD1 Leonard, I'll be honest: I don't think he would be as buddy-buddy as 1.3 is with him. I think he would at first be mildly put off/kinda???? ????? about 1.3? Because there he is, this seemingly NORMAL version of himself and he's faced with the uncanny sight of being a silly pathetic little forest hermit to himself, not just running a village but being one of the only sources of hope in said village with such a character gap it's like "he's fine???? I'M FINE????? what happened???? what changed what is this" //and when he finds out he STILL has the paedophilia, his brothers are STILL dead everything goes from "weird clone im sure is nice and am trying not to judge but am very confused by" to a more shaken, discomforted, upset sort of put-off because i think the thought of meeting a version of himself just... not caring or not seeming to feel a need to suffer and is comfortable just moving past that grief like nothing (at least outwardly) for these VERY wrong things he's internalised as his own fault and responsibility (even across times!!! no version of himself is allowed to step out of line! ESPECIALLY no version of himself!!!!!) //(particularly given that leonard's guilt and misery is the one thing he really has of himself, both in the sense he's formed his entire person around it and it is, in a way, the only thing he has left of his past, just in general i feel that he would be a bit uncomfortable seeing a glimpse of what he is without what makes him, in his eyes, him) //but would leonard actually act on any of his distaste for the "how can you be okay with this and just let that slide?" leonard? nah. //not if he doesn't find out just how many standards 1.3 has tossed aside. //it goes without saying that dod1 leonard isn't a very confrontational, much less violent person, though im VERY happy to state that i very much believe we might see a once-in-a-lifetime exception to that rule if he were to find out about the hijinks his other self were up to! DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD YOUVE GOTTA PUSH LEONARD FOR HIM TO WILLINGLY COMMIT VIOLENCE? //If DOD1 were to ever find out that he had become his own worst fear of an active predator in another life, I think it would be enough to just break something in him emotionally, and i doubt he could just let it slide. it begs the question....

//who do you think would win? drakengard 1.3 leonard, assumedly fucked up on dragon's blood and capable of crushing bones with his fists or a dod1 leonard who's decided to put down the pacificism for a moment of pure vitriol-induced murderous rage?

//it's a lot easier to kill others than it is yourself, after all.

[multi-lefaiye]

i remember.

hi. this is some venty ass personal writing that i had to get out of my system. i might delete this in a bit bc i feel weird talking about it, but i also know that i have to just. get this out. and y'know maybe if i try to make something artsy out of this, at least it's worth something.

this is a lot. i do not expect anyone to read it. i also do not expect anyone (especially those of you who are younger) to comfort me about any of this. y'all are not my therapists, and the onus is not on you to be there for me. i'm not upset about this right now and i honestly just... need to get this out.

content warnings: child abuse, physical abuse of a partner, neglect, a brief reference to child sexual abuse, drug use/addiction, emotiomal abuse/gaslighting

when i was about seven years old, my ex mom was almost murdered by her drug dealer/boyfriend, and i saw it happen. it sounds a lot more dramatic than it was. it also sounds fake, even to me.

i don't remember most of it, especially not as a single event. it comes in bits and pieces in my memory. for most of my life, i was convinced it was a dream, a very strangely specific recurring nightmare with no basis in reality.

what did it matter that hearing arguing in the next room is enough to have me trembling like a frightened chihuahua, frozen in place yet overwhelmed with the need to hide? that seeing anger, even not directed at me, is terrifying? that's just me being a coward.

then, when i was sixteen, my aunt called me in tears, apologies tumbling from her lips as she begged for my forgiveness for not intervening sooner. i asked her what she meant, and she said that she and the rest of my ex mom's family knew i was in a dangerous, abusive environment, and yet none of them did anything until my ex mom's boyfriend attacked her. they knew, but they didn't want to get involved or make a big deal about it.

they.

fucking.

knew.

i reexamined that strange nightmare, the bits and pieces i know vs the ones she explained to me as i silently processed the reality that the adults in my life knew something was wrong but didn't act on it. it's certainly easier said than done to react to a situation like that, and apparently my mom asked them not to intervene, but still.

like i said, i don't remember a lot of that day. what i do remember comes to me in flashes, scattered and broken puzzle pieces that don't quite fit into a cohesive narrative until i look closer. sometimes i worry that there isn't a single story there at all, and i'll never really know everything about my own trauma.

i remember the weeks leading up to that incident (what a clinical term, so detached). weeks of my mom drifting in and out of reality, not really being there to take care of me. i missed school a lot. i didn't eat much. i was left alone quite a bit. my mom's boyfriend sometimes took care of me when he stopped by. i wish i remembered his name. his face. anything more than his hands.

i remember losing a baby tooth one day while eating breakfast while my ex mom and her boyfriend talked in the next room. i looked at the baby tooth in my palm and felt a rush of giddy excitement--how grown up losing a baby tooth made me feel--and i ran to tell them right away. they congratulated me with thin smiles and tight voices, and they asked me to go play in my room and let the adults keep having an important talk. my ex mom had tears in her eyes. her boyfriend's hand was clenched into a fist where it rested on the table.

i remember someone putting a hand on me between my legs, and i remember being scared. i remember that it hurt. i didn't know where my ex mom was, but i remember being told to keep it a secret with a warm smile and a wink. just between us. i remember being given a cupcake and told to watch cartoons for a while.

i remember endless days of my ex mom lying listlessly in the house, pupils blown wide as she laughed about nothing. my friends' parents never seemed to like her, but they never told me why. i spent a lot of nights at my friends' houses, i think.

i remember hearing an argument. my ex mom was screaming and crying. her boyfriend was screaming back. i was scared, but i wanted to make sure my ex mom was okay. this was a common enough occurrence that i didn't think anything was wrong, but i wanted to give her a hug.

i remember walking into the room and seeing my ex mom on the floor, her hands shielding her head as her boyfriend loomed over her. there was broken glass on the floor and the furniture was in disarray. i think she was bleeding. i asked what was happening. her boyfriend told me to go back to bed.

i remember my ex mom telling me to call for help, to call my grandparents.

i remember him moving to grab me before i could do that, hands reaching like jagged talons to snatch up my skinny little arms in a bruising grip.

i remember running back to my room and closing the door with a slam, locking it immediately. he followed, but he didn't try to break in. there was no phone in my room, after all. no need to worry i'd call someone.

i remember curling up on my bed and staring at the TV, trying to focus on cartoons to drown out the pounding of the blood in my ears.

i remember there being more shouting, furious and terrified screams shaking me and the house to our foundations. the front door slammed, and it was quiet. everything was silent. hours later, i got the courage to leave my room, and i saw my ex mom and her boyfriend were gone.

my ex mom was missing for at least a day, maybe longer. she was found later, broken and battered and barely alive, and taken to a hospital. she was delirious from the pain and there were talks of sending her to rehab while she dealt with the withdrawals from the cocktail of drugs in her system. before they could, she called my aunt and told her where i was.

my aunt came to get me some time later. she packed me a suitcase and drove me to my grandparents' house. for a few weeks, i stayed with them. i remember waking up before dawn every day to drive two hours to school, just to be berated by teachers who were furious i was too exhausted to pay attention. i remember not knowing where my ex-mom was. i remember being so scared all the time.

at some point, my ex mom left rehab. later, i found out that there were talks of sending me to foster care. my ex mom didn't want that to happen, because then my dad would know what happened, so she was going to take me back.

my aunt came back to talk to my grandparents. she spoke to them in a low voice, one i couldn't hear from the other room, and said they needed to get me out of there. for once, they decided not to stand idly by.

i remember a long drive to my dad, a whole state away. i remember him holding me tight, trembling with rage as my aunt told him what happened. i remember being confused, because no one told me where my ex-mom was. my dad told me not to worry about that.

years and years later, i asked my ex mom about all of this. (i wasn't yet calling her my ex mom, but soon i realized the term fit very well.) i asked what happened, and i asked why no one protected me. protected either of us.

she told me i was a liar, that i was a self-righteous, attention-seeking moron looking for sympathy by pretending i was abused. i didn't know what i was talking about, and i had to get over myself and understand that the world didn't revolve around me, the perfect little victim who never did anything wrong. i was against her, just like my aunt, just like my grandparents just like my dad. she just hoped i'd never go through anything like what she did, so i'd never have to realize that no one was going to help me.

(i was a fucking child, i wanted to scream. the words were stuck in my throat. i was a fucking child.)

we haven't spoken in years now.

i don't know how to end this. i call her my ex mom, but she's still out there. still connected to me, if perhaps very distantly. i don't know where she is anymore.

i don't know where i am either sometimes.

[awellboiledicicle]

Hades brainrot reminded me of a Hypnos x mortal!oc thing I was plotting during peak playtime

Which was basically he falls in love with a mortal woman and meets with her in dreams disguised. They do the whole falling for one another thing while this is happening bUT. BUT. she thinks hes just a dream. So shes been doing her weaving and so on, preparing for the day she has to get married... but she loves this dream man and it's making her miserable. And she doesnt talk about it to him in these lucid dream dates bc YEAH. But like once shes done weaving and the date is set etc she finally breaks down and tells him what's up and Hypnos being a greek god is like "well this is not ideal, can I solve this with murder? Because I can do that." And shes Emotional bc she knows hes just a dream and she'll have to marry this random guy her family picked and aaaa

There was also a part where she begs him not to think less of her for loving him more than the husband she has to go to marry and Hypnos is just in panic mode bc he has ONE THING and it's her companionship at the moment. Then he sorta. Kinda. Maybe a little fucked off to try calling in a favor from Hera bc,,, obviously the correct course of action is having the goddess of lawful marriage... disrupt one. And convinced her through sheer "remember during that war where I made Zeus sleep really deep?" And the condition that he come clean and marry the mortal in honesty.

Mostly bc she was 10000% tired of gods shapeshifting to get into mortals pants and at least 45% because she wanted to see Hades squirm. Bc she got Nyx to agree to making the mortal... not anymore. For living in the house purposes. And Hades wont often fight Nyx on things.

But like so he goes once more to do the whole Reveal thing in the dream first because thats.. easier. Way easier than "surpriiise I'm a god" irl anyway. And before he can say anything shes on a tangent, heartbroken over a dream, and saying "How cruel must lord Hypnos be! How angered I must have made him! To send me you-- you, my beloved, who only live in his realm! How am I to he a faithful wife, a good mother, when my heart lays with sleep?"

And his response was basically dropping all disguise and going "I'm not mad at all, soooo". Her response was fear and also "dude wtf" but also stories of Zeus exist so it could be worse.

They basically snuck her into the house after Hera married the two and the Hades v Nyx argument was Intense. Zagreus liked her bc he was finally not the shortest in the house.

Basically my brain remembered the most Dramatic Emotional parts and now I'm crying over my unwritten story at 3am bc Soft