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#but they only changed his filters in these scenes so it was a waste of time :')

ferociousmochis · 1 year

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please can i request alex turner smut you're last one was amazing!!!

Stay

Alex Turner X Fem!Reader

Warnings: fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, more dominant alex/submissive reader

You and Alex were nothing short of "frenimies", despite hanging out in the same group nearly every weekend you never ceased the bickering. Tonight he was particularly annoying, you were at an afterparty of sorts in a big house the band rented to celebrate the success of the latest Arctic Monkeys tour and the atmosphere was absolutely incredible. Well, it would be if Alex wasn't pestering you so much. "Alex could you shut up for maybe more than two seconds? Thanks.", "Ya'know, doll, maybe one day you'll be extraordinary enough to have a party to celebrate you!", he replied snarkily before wondering off to chat with a group that was beckoning him over to them. The nickname always got under your skin and he knew it, enjoying the reaction he got out of you. You rolled your eyes and huffed before pushing through the crowds to find your big brother, Nick, the bassist of the band and practically the only reason you'd ever be able to set foot in a place like this. You made your way into the house, it was full of unfamiliar faces and tight squeezes. When you finally found Nick he was nursing a glass of whiskey and playing cards with a couple other members of the band. You seamlessly blended into the scene, allowing yourself to enjoy the simple fun of partying like a kid again.

A couple more games and drinks later, the party was beginning to wind down and security was beginning to filter people out. You were shown your room and didn't any waste time getting comfy, changing into a pretty satin nighty and snuggling between your bedsheets. Everything was peacefully silent, until the tune of a guitar playing across the hall cut through your headspace.

You already knew just who it was, always the thorn in your side. Frustrated, you opened your door and saw one across the hall was slightly opened. You tiptoed across the wooden floorboards to the cracked door and peeked through only to see him strumming the instrument on the edge of his bed. You probably should have just turned around and went back to your room, but you couldn't help the way your eyes lingered on his hands. He strummed the guitar masterfully, plucking each string with grace. It didn't help that he was shirtless either. You'd always found him attractive, perhaps thats even what made him so annoying. An egotistical bastard that truly had an effect on you, your worst nightmare.

"Careful Y/N, if you stare at me much longer I might start to think you actually like me.", he said continuing to fiddle with the strings of his guitar. "You wish.", you huff flustered, pushing the door open, "Just be quiet, I'm trying to sleep". "Well sorry for disturbing you, princess" he replied in a mocking tone, the nickname making your face heat up slightly but the familiar pouty frown was still hanging on your lips. He gets up and approaches you, your breath hitched in your throat. He reaches beside you and places his guitar on the stand beside the door. His hand rested on the doorframe beside you, caging you in slightly against the opening of the door. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, too close. His eyes scanned your face briefly before he pulled away and meandered across his room to the small table by his bed. "Drink?", he said, holding up two glasses. You contemplated a bit, followed by a hesitant nod.

He poured the whiskey before patting the spot next to him and passing you a glass. He downed it swiftly with ease, while you swished the liquid around hesitantly, still unsure of the situation. "Its a drink, Y/N, you're supposed to drink it", he muttered pouring a second for himself. "You know, you're the most irritating person I have ever met in my life", you spat, pouring it down your throat, the burn making you wince. "Well then why are you in my bedroom", he replies arching an eyebrow. "Whatever", you roll your eyes, you honestly didn't know how to answer his question, what the hell were you doing? Frustrated with yourself, you begin to stand up, "Wait-" he says, a flash of desperation coats his voice. His hand grasped your wrist, "dont go". You slowly sit back down, a haze of confusion filling your brain. What was this? Why was he acting this way? Why did he always have to be so complicated?

He pulls a cigarette to his lips and a lighter from his pocket, letting the flames lick the end of it until he was satisfied. He turns back to you, a light puff of smoke leaving the corner of his mouth before discarding the lighter on his nightstand. The way the moonlight glowed on your skin was making him dizzy, but the whiskey helped bring him back to earth.

You began chatting harmlessly, warming up to each others company. The tensions eased and it was possibly the first completely friendly exchange you've had in forever, he actually managed to make you laugh.

"No, no, you're definitely a total slut on the road" you joke. "Am not!" he said faux offense plastered all over his face, "You're just jealous", he said smirking and winking at you playfully. "Absolutely not", you shoot back quickly, throwing your hands up in defense. "Mhm", he replied, "Really?", you laugh in return. "Definitely.", his lips curled into a devilish smile. You laugh, so caught up in the moment that you don't even realize the depth of what slips out next, "What do you want me to say? 'Alex please play me with your magical guitar fingers!'"

"Magical guitar fingers?"

"You know what I mean", you stutter quickly, signs of your embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You practically felt yourself shrivel with pure humiliation, you knew he would literally never let you live this down. When you managed to look him in the eye you were met with a much different expression than you expected. You anticipated laughter, or even just straight teasing but he was looking at you differently, his eyes were much darker now. He didn't try to hide the lust that burned in his eyes. He searched every crevice of your expression for some sort of understanding, an inkling, anything that could clue him in to what was going through your head.

He held out his hands, a few silver rings grasped his knuckles. Your jaw tightened, he really did have pretty hands, his fingers were long and slightly calloused from his guitar. He watched as you examined them, noticing your slightest of movements, including the way your legs pressed together slightly. You felt him shift closer to you, nearly closing a gap that pulled you together like magnets. He brought his hand down to rest on your thigh, nimble fingers grazing the soft flesh carefully. His breath was hot on your neck, "Stay.", he whispered. You turned to face him, only to be swept up into an unimaginably passionate kiss. You melted into him, kissing back almost instantly. His hands desperately wrapping around your body to pull you closer until you were in his lap.

You both knew this was wrong. You were his bandmate's little sister, everything about this was laced with poison. But you were the forbidden fruit he coveted for so long, finally just a kiss away. Your tongues danced to the sounds of the night and the sinful smacking of your lips, a mix of whisky, cologne and cigarette smoke filled your senses. His hands travel up your thighs and under your nighty, kneading the soft flesh of your ass. He pulls back to look at you, a blush is prickling your cheeks and your pupils are blown. He had the most wicked smile plastered across his face, "Wanna test out my magical guitar fingers?". If your face wasn't red already it definitely was now.

You've already taken it too far, whats a little further?

You were quickly flipped onto your back with ease, his strong arms placing you right where he wanted you. He gets on his knees, the low mattress giving him just the right angle to toss one of your legs over his shoulder. His hands snake around your hips and he pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, hands burning your skin with desire. You tear the nighty off over you head, exposing yourself to him. He bit the inside of his cheek trying to stay composed. He was completely breathless, taking a moment to admire you. You looked like fine art, each curve perfectly painted just for him, a goddess bound in human flesh. "Such a pretty little thing.." he breathed, you bit your lip in anticipation. He licked his thumb before it found its place circling your clit. You whimpered softly at the sensation. "With such pretty sounds", he murmured into your thigh kissing it softly, "You gonna keep making 'em for me?".

He tortures you, tracing the nub at an agonizing pace. You throw your head back, face tightening at the overwhelming pleasure. His free hand grips your neck, pulling you to meet his gaze, "Eyes on me, doll". You feel as the attention to your clit stops and his finger slowly enters you, making your hips jerk and your eyes flutter closed again, "Look at me or I'll stop." he says sternly. He starts to pump in an out of you, the cool metal of his ring tapping at your clit with every thrust, sending shocks throughout your body every time. He soaks in every slight movement you make, relishing in every twitch of pleasure he gives you. Removing his finger, he gathers your arousal on his thumb before circling your clit once more. The stimulation to your swollen nub makes your brain short circuit. When he returns to your needy entrance, he adds two fingers this time. They fill you deliciously, the slight stretch igniting every nerve in your body. He curls and thrusts into you at a much more aggressive pace this time, fucking you with his fingers until you're vibrating on his hand like a little whiny mess. You feel every muscle tensing in your body. "Come on, love", you feel yourself quickly starting to tumble over the edge at his words, "thats it, thats it-", he coaxes. He bites his lip while he watches you shake under his touch, "such a good girl".

Seeing you like this was so entrancing- maybe it was the way your cheeks donned that light shade of pink, or how you peered down at him with those droopy, fucked-out eyes, or maybe it was the way your hair laid messily across the sheets of his bed- whatever it was, god, it made him strain against his pants. "Come 'ere" he whispered, towering over you on the bed. Your bare chest grazes his as he brings his fingers to your lips. You take them into your mouth, sucking greedily. His self control was hanging by a thread. His hand grasps the span of your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss. It swallows you whole while his free hand roamed the curves of your body, you were like putty in his hands.

You're too preoccupied coming down from your high to notice when he pulls his belt from his waist. He slips his pants and boxers off in one swift motion before crawling overtop of you and pulling you into another vehement kiss. The tip of his cock teases your slick entrance as his lips move against yours, making you squirm. "Be a good girl and tell me what you want, doll", he whispered, his husky voice filling your ears like a song. "Alex, please", you whimper, "Please what sweetheart?", he replied, lifting your chin with his finger. You couldn't believe you were begging for Alex fucking Turner but you were too desperate to care, "please, please fuck me Alex, please". He didn't need any convincing.

When you sat in his lap you could definitely tell he was big but nothing could've prepared you for the way he filled you up. "Shit- you're so tight", he gasped softly, not giving you much time to settle before he sought more friction. But the pain burned into pleasure quickly, until your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. The way he rolled his hips against yours let him hit all the right places. Your jaw hung slack, swollen lips parted as your body swayed which each thrust. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, basking in the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him. You can see the sweat glistening on his forehead, a few strands of his hair sticking to it slightly.

You were babbling softly, completely cockdrunk. "Fuck", he groaned, "such a pretty girl, taking me so well". He loves watching you, especially watching your face while he fucks you, he can't explain the way it makes him feel when your eyes roll back and your back arches at the feeling of him filling you up. It was so much better than every wet dream he ever had, better than every time he fantasized about you and those little short skirts you'd wear to every show, you exceeded his every expectation and more. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly, making you clench around him. "s' good-", you moan, half choking on your own broken sobs. He smirked, he preferred you like this instead of shooting him those smart-ass, sharp remarks, "pretty baby can't talk?", he said tauntingly. His hips snapped up to meet yours leaving you in a daze, you were too fucked out to even respond. He spent too many nights stroking himself wishing it was your hand instead of his own, waiting for the day when your snippy comments would turn into those lovely, desperate whines you were giving him now.

"My good girl", he murmured into your neck, nipping and sucking small marks along your collar bone possessively. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your throat as he felt you tightening around him. He knew you were getting close, not only by the way you were gripping him like a vice but by how whiny you were getting, writhing under him as the pressure built. He loved it, every sound that passed your beautiful lips just egged him on further. He sped up his pace, seeking out your release and his own. He knew you were just barely holding on, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. Just as you began slipping, he grasped your face angling you to stare deeply into his eyes, "Look at me doll, look at me while you cum on my cock". That was enough to force the coil to completely snap in your abdomen. Your legs shook against him as you cried out loudly, enough for him cover your mouth to muffle those gorgeous sounds. You squeezed him perfectly, enough to pull him into his own orgasm. He let out a deep moan while he watched himself slide in and out of you, enamored by the way your tight cunt milked his cock.

He collapsed into your chest, both of you gasping for air. You stay like that for a moment, attempting to catch your breaths but also unwilling to let go.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you on top of him as he rolls onto his back. "Alex!" you half yelp, still very much disoriented. You glance up and catch his eyes, they are soft and full of admiration. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, "Stay."

He was going to be the death of you.

Thank you so much for the request! :) All I can say is I love writing for Alex so never stop them lol. I know this isn't as great as my last but here ya go anyways. I will lowkey prob come back and edit this sometime in the future as well 👍. I just wanted to get something out since I haven't for a few days, BUT I have so many prompts for him piled up that I am currently working on so hang tight- there are better ones on the way!

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner one shot #alex turner sexy #alex turner smut #alex turner gif #the car #the last shadow puppets #fanfic #smut #oneshot #smut oneshot #one shot #female reader #fem!reader #x reader #am arctic monkeys

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theconstantsidekick · 2 years

Text

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (5)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader (future)

Genre: Angsty with a hint of Fluff?

Summary: Fighting off the Winter Soldier and having a kind conversation with Bucky Barnes, Y/n didn’t think both of those things could happen all in one day. And yet…

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mentions of Torture, Mentions of Alcoholism, Suicidal Ideations.

a/n: if any of you have watched the show I'm referencing, you fucking hit me up, you hear me? YOU HIT ME UP!

Y/n figures it out moments before the sirens are sounded.

After the verbal showdown with her brother and her boyfriend, she needed to blow off some steam.. Or well, just blow off some smoke. The cigarette was burning past the filter when the pieces clicked together, about why Sergeant Barnes was framed as the culprit of the attack.

But the loud sirens and the entire control room filled with agents rushing around meant she was a little too late.

As she enters, she takes a moment to spot Natasha and Tony making their way toward the exit.

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” Natasha says to Tony.

“Sure did,” Tony replies, buttoning his blazer and breaking into a jog alongside Nat. “It's a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button. I'm an active-duty non-combatant.”

“If you don’t have a suit, we gotta call in Y/n,” Nat states gravely.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Tony bites back.

“We cannot let her get anywhere near this,” Nat reminds him.

“Anywhere near what?” She asks casually, sneaking up behind them.

“For fuck’s sake. You can’t sneak up on people like that under high-stress situations like these,” Tony scolds her.

She just chuckles in response, jogging along with them.

“Y/n,” Nat tries but Y/n shuts her down.

“Come on! I’ll be fine.” She insists jovially.

Nat stops to fix her with one of her serious this-is-so-not-funny looks.

“What?” Y/n asks petulantly.

“You know what,” Nat replies.

“We don’t have time to waste. So I’ll cut to the chase. I won’t lose control and do something crazy, okay?”

But then it’s 10 minutes later and Barnes just threw her brother, her Tony across the fucking room and if there were ever any circumstance that would make Y/n extremely prone to violence, y’all have been reading this shit long enough to know, it’s this. “Yeah, Nat, remember what I said about the whole not losing control and going crazy thing?” She asks calmly, straightening up.

“Yea…” Natasha replies, apprehension clear in her tone.

“I lied.” She jumps over the railing from the floor above and lands right in front of Barnes. When she faces him, looks him in the eyes, she realises, this really isn’t Barnes at all. It’s her dearest, oldest friend.

“Soldat.”

There is a beat, a hint of a hint of recognition. And then he charges at her with her metal arm. But unlike all the times she had previously fought the Winter Soldier, this time, she is not afraid.

He hurt Tony.

This time she is just fucking angry.

She dodges easily, by stepping out of the way.

He turns to land another blow, she sidesteps that too.

She smirks, “Sie sind eingerostet.” You’re rusty.

That seems to piss him off. He punches her straight in the gut, throwing her back.

Skidding onto her knees, she looks up, gut sore, eyes watering. She isn’t losing to him this time. Not again. Never again.

Standing up straight, she lets out a short breath and motions him to come at her. He takes the bait. Running up to her, he throws his metal arm aiming for a mean left hook but it clashes, letting out a loud clang.

The metal banging against metal rings out loud enough to halt the commotion around them.

Well, that and the fact that Y/n just brandished a fucking sword out of fucking nothing. Yeah, shit like that usually catches attention, she reckons.

She hasn’t used the damn thing in… give or take two decades? And god! It feels damn fucking good. It’s exhilarating, to say the least. The dark metal of the sword shines pink as it reflects the light. It’s a soft glow, ever so delicate. But it still manages to bathe the Soldier’s pale metal hand in pink. It makes her smile.

The Soldier, however, doesn’t seem to find it even remotely charming.

His face twists in confusion. Only a beat passes before he strikes again.

She blocks again.

Another beat.

They both assess each other.

For the first time in all the thousands of times, they have faced off against each other, the Soldier seems confounded.

But the moment doesn’t last for too long. Pushing himself back, he runs up to her, gaining momentum and attacking again.

Dodging out of the way, she circles around and counters on his right side.

His reaction is a second too late and she slashes him. It’s a small cut, a scratch at best. But it draws blood.

She smiles.

Losing his temper, he charges. He strikes, she blocks. He strikes again, she dodges easily, moving around to kick his legs, causing him to loose balance.

It’s a delicate dance, as most fights are. But this one’s different. It used to be a routine for her—fighting the Winter Soldier. Day in, day out, they fought. A dance of fists and limbs, gutwrenching and unending. But this is so fucking different.

For once, she’s not scared.

She doesn’t have to fight to survive, she doesn’t have to hide a part of herself as she does. She doesn’t have to worry about making it out alive. Her brother is right behind her. Natasha is too. Steve’s a few moments away. Though she doesn’t need them to win this time around, it’s fucking comforting knowing that there is no version of this fight that ends with her dead. And maybe that’s what she needed? Because for the first time in her life, she is kicking the Winter Soldier’s ass.

For every hit he lands, she gets him back two times over.

In all honesty, she feels fucking cocky.

She smiles.

Her sword is an inch away from his throat, and there is an eerie silence hanging around them.

“Sie können nicht mehr gewinnen.” You don’t get to win anymore.

But before she can strike the final blow, her arm is pulled away as she’s pushed out of the way.

Sharon is on him in an instant, fighting with all her might the best she can. It’s not enough though. She’s a good fighter but you have to be better than good to take on the Winter Soldier.

Y/n raises her sword, ready to fight again but there’s a tug on her shoulder, pulling her back.

When she turns to look at the offender, “Barnes is still in there,” is all that Natasha says before she jumps in to help Sharon.

And fuck if that doesn’t hit where it hurts.

Barnes is still in there.

She forgot about him.

She forgot about Bucky Barnes.

In her rage and vengeance, she forgot about the man behind the mask. She made him the monster again, she forgot the man beneath, again.

Fuck.

Unfortunately, the downside of having a heartbreaking epiphany (of the fact that you’re a shit person) during a goddamn superhero fight is that you don’t have the correct tools or the required time to deal with said epiphany. Because Barnes is already in motion, T’Challa hot on his trail and Natasha is gasping for breath, having been choked by a metal hand.

It’s not until much later when she’s sitting in an abandoned warehouse with a semi-conscious Barnes coming to with his metallic arm clamped under a huge hunk of metal that she tries to come to terms with her murderous rage.

As Barnes mumbles himself awake, Sam calls Steve into the room.

“Steve,” Barnes mumbles.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah,” he says before a painfully soft smile breaks onto his face. It reminds her of something but she can’t put her finger on it. It’s so gentle, it confuses her. The dichotomy of the rugged, broken warehouse and the reminiscing smile on his face almost breaks her. “You used to wear newspaper in your shoes.”

Steve smiles too then. He looks at her once, where she stands leaning against the wall on his right. “Can’t read that in a museum.”

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam asks, frustrated. Which, yeah fair question.

“What did I do?” Barnes asks.

“Enough,” Steve tells him.

“Oh, God,” Barnes laments, anguish clear on every inch of his face. “I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead,” Steve’s not pulling his punches. “The bombing, the setup. The doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’.”

Barnes thinks for a second, “He wanted to know about Siberia,” he says, eyes flinting around in recollection but never too far, never to her. “Where I was kept,” a beat. “He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?” Steve inquires.

And then for the first time since he came to, Barnes looks at her. There is a hesitance in his look too. As if he’s afraid to even look at her—like he’s not supposed to.

When his eyes fly away, looking down with shame, it clicks.

He’s afraid to mention it in front of her, ashamed even.

And fuck if that doesn’t hurt her worse.

God, I suck, she thinks.

So she does him this little kindness. Stepping up, she replies, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

Hesitantly Barnes tells them about the rest of the Soldiers, how they were trained, how they were made… and that story… She can’t really say why but it feels familiar somehow. She doesn’t have the time to assess that thought.

“Who were they?” Steve asks.

“Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. Except—” his eyes flicker over to her once again.

“Except me,” she supplies for him, another act of kindness.

Nodding shyly, he continues. “And all that was before the serum.”

“They all turn out like you?” Sam asks him. His tone is a little too accusatory but again, she gets it.

“Worse.”

“The doctor,” Steve chimes in, “could he control them?”

“Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Steve remarks, addressing Sam.

“With these guys, he could do it,” Barnes informs them. “They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

Stepping up to Steve, Sam speaks in a hushed voice, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.”

“If we call Tony—” Steve tries.

“No.” Sam cuts him off. “He won’t believe us.”

“He’ll believe her,” Steve counters, nodding at her.

Sam looks at her and relents. “Even if he did, who knows if the Accords would let him help.”

Steve looks at her then, there’s concern on his face. It’s almost sweet. The chaos around them just fades away when he looks at her like that—eyes all soft, hints of an annoyingly cute frown forming on his forehead. He looks so beautiful, always beautiful.

“What do you think?” He asks, stepping up to her.

She takes a moment. She needs a lot more than that but a moment is all she can afford. Exhaling audibly she says, “I think there’s something more.” Her words make his frown prominent. “I think there’s something we’re missing.”

“Like what?” Sam asks.

“Like why now? I know the timing of the bombing seems… opportunistic, but it feels like there’s more to it somehow. There’s a huge piece of the puzzle that we’re missing and I think the answer lies somewhere in who the fuck that fake ass doctor was,” she tells them.

“You want to figure out who he is?” Sam offers.

She shakes her head from side to side, “Yeah but we can’t let him beat us to Siberia. We need to find those Soldiers before he does.”

“And if Tony tries to stop us?” Steve asks.

“You’re on your own on that one.” She is not going to fight her brother. “I came because it was you and because—” she looks over at Barnes for a second before shaking her head. “Actually it doesn’t fucking matter why I came. If Tony’s on the other side, you’d be a bunch of dumbfucks to count on me.”

Steve, with his kindest blue eyes, just nods. He gets it.

Tony is her person. That one person for whom she’d burn the world down. He was there for her when no one else was. There aren’t words to describe the devotion she has to him, she doesn’t think there ever will be.

Steve gets it.

And why wouldn’t he?

His person is the one who got them all into this mess.

“We’re on our own,” Steve tells Sam.

But then Sam shrugs, “Maybe not. I know a guy.”

The three of them begin prepping. They make a few calls, and gather their resources, before Sam and Steve head out to grab something for them to eat and steal themselves a ride.

With as much gentleness as he can muster, Steve asks her to watch over Barnes. And she agrees with a curt nod.

After taking a few moments to gather her courage, she walks back into the room. “So,” she begins as she brings herself to rest against the wall in front of him, “The red book, huh?”

The icebreaker seems to work as she intended.

Slowly looking up at her, he asks hesitantly, “You know about it?”

Instead of a reply, there is just silence. It’s so unexpected especially when matched with the look of shock she’s wearing that it makes Barnes frown.

“Fuck sorry,” she blurts out, shaking her head. “For a second there I completely forgot that you talk now.” When Barnes just looks at her with a flat face, she adds, “What? In half the century that I’ve ‘known’ you, you’ve spoken like 17 sentences—And I think just TWO of them were to me. I’m allowed to forget that you talk.” Barnes just rolls his eyes. She smiles then, “But yeah.” She shrugs jovially. “I read about it in some old files after Peggy got me out. They obviously didn’t use it on me…” She looks at him with a challenge in her eyes. “But you knew that.”

There is a beat of silence.

And then—

“I’m so—

“I’m sor—”

That shuts both of them up.

The silence seems palpable.

“You go ahead,” Barnes breaks it.

“I just—” She hesitates for a second. Gathering up her courage, she begins again, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

But apparently, that isn’t what the man wanted to hear. “What?” He throws back, shocked.

She shifts her weight from one foot to another. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“What for?” He scoffs almost as if the entire notion is completely stupid.

“For almost killing you—well not you, him but… You were in there, you always were and I just didn’t—I never…” She shakes her head, trying to shake away all the overthought thoughts from her head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Back at the base. I shouldn’t have gone as hard as I did.”

“I would’ve hurt a lot more people if you hadn’t,” he counters.

“Maybe,” she offers. “But I could’ve kept you busy without murdering you. Waited for Steve to get there. Knocked you unconscious—I don’t know. There were a million different options apart from straight-up murder. I shouldn’t have gone as hard as I did.”

“I deserved it.”

“I could’ve killed you,” she argues.

“I would’ve deserved that too,” he replies slowly, head hanging low, looking too small for a man as big as he is.

She understands the sentiment. She doesn’t agree with it, but she can relate to it. She has been exactly where he is. She wishes to expedite the processes for him… another small kindness.

She clicks her tongue. “I don’t agree.” His face contorts into something akin to disagreement, but before he can voice it, she adds, “Despite our… colorful past, I assure you, you do not deserve that.”

As expected, her words don’t carry the weight that is necessary to make a man as reverently known as James Bucky Barnes feel any less guilty.

So she tries again.

“You remember what I told you?” Her question makes him look up. She takes that as yes. “I’ll tell you again, just cause I feel like you need to hear it. We are not what they made us into, Sergeant. We are not monsters. The only way to prove them wrong is to be better.”

The James Barnes she had heard tall tales about seemed a relentlessly charming flirt, who was a little cocky but in that endearing kind of way which made you fall in love with him. But the James Barnes in front of her has this silence to him that could only be explained by years of trauma. He’s not cocky or flirty but she can still see the hints of an endearing man. So much so that when he speaks next, she wants to listen as keenly as possible.

With short, stiff movements while his hand stays stuck underneath the hunk of metal, he says in a low, unsure voice, “It might be true for you… But it doesn’t—I’m not… I haven’t done anything to be better. I haven’t even begun to make up for all the horrible things I did.” There is venom in his voice as he speaks. “I am still the monster they made me.” He looks at her, “You saw today who I am—WHAT I—”

“I’m gonna cut you off there Sarge.” She takes a step forward. “Do you really believe there is something you can do to make up for all the shit you did? Because newsflash partner, there really isn’t. There isn’t some grand equation where you save 4 people for every 1 person you killed.” She needs him to understand this, right here, right now. It’s fucking important. “There is no way to ‘make up’ for our sins, Sergeant. We did what we did. We cannot undo any of it. No matter how badly we want to.”

He looks absolutely lost as he asks, “So I shouldn’t even try?”

She relaxes again, “Now, when did I say that?”

“So, you’re saying I should try but expect to fail?” He asks, almost confounded.

Y/n smiles then, “Well, I’m not trying to say that either.” She’s met with scrunched-up brows and a scowl worthy of an award of some sort. She can’t help it, she lets out a chuckle. Taking a few steps closer, she sits down on the floor. Her knees are still up cause she refuses to ruin her beautiful oxfords, while she’s manspreading cause she likes it.

He stares at her as she tries to make herself comfortable in her (once) impeccable suit.

“You know what I love about the way the world changed throughout the years?” The question is purely rhetorical, so instead of waiting for what would obviously be an annoyed zinger, she continues, “I got to watch them develop technology, language, food, social constructs, yadda, yadda, yadda. But my favorite part, the fucking best part was Media. Watching people understand the power of the media they produce was so fucking fun.” She’s wearing a huge grin on her face. “And that—” she laughs a little, manically almost. “That led to some quality fucking television! I mean top-fucking-notch, alright?”

He’s looking at her like she’s lost her mind.

“Now, why am I going on this random unrelated tangent, you ask.”

“I didn’t,” he replies with a straight face, the cheeky bastard.

She waves him off. “Because it’s not unrelated at all. Back in the late nineties, early naughties, there was this show called ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer’, which as the name suggests was about a teenage girl named Buffy—which yes, is a very peculiar name—who used to slay vampires which were like soul-less undead and unfeeling evil little dipshits. It was a great show. It was a spec-fucking-tacular show. Peak television and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

“But we aren’t talking about that today.” She shifts a little closer. “Buffy The Vampire Slayer had this spin-off show—which essentially is another show set in the same universe as the first, usually staring a side character from the original story as the main character in this one.” Waving her hands around, she continues, “Anyway, so Buffy The Vampire Slayer had a spin-off called Angel, which followed a dude named Angel—obviously—who used to be a vampire long before either of the shows started, and did like a bunch of crazy homicidal maniac shit but then got cursed with having his soul back.”

“That doesn’t sound like a curse,” Barnes interjects, almost shocking her.

“Doesn’t it though?” she counters. “After wreaking havoc, killing innocents, creating chaos everywhere you went, with no regard for the consequences—and doing so for like a century… you wake up the next day having to feel the guilt for all of it?” Cocking her brow she asks, “Is that not the worst punishment one could possibly get?”

Barnes’ eyes shy away.

“I thought you said this was relevant,” he contends half-heartedly.

She smiles again. “It is. Will you just give me a second?” When all he does is exhale audibly in patient annoyance, she continues, “So, as I was saying; Angel leaves the setting of the previous show and moves to L.A. where his show begins. Fights two or three bad guys, meets a few old friends, has a couple of revelations where he comes to realize that the only way to move forward is to help people, to be better. And so he decides to start an investigation agency to ‘help the helpless’.” He looks at her with a discernable look in his eyes.

“The reason I’m telling you all this is because, there comes a point in the show where someone like you, asks him why he does it. If he knows that his actions don’t matter, the greater scheme, the big picture. If there is no grand plan, no big win… If none of it changes because of what he does, then why do it? Why even try to be good? Why help people who if given the chance might not help him?” She smiles reminiscing. “And he says—and I remember it like it was yesterday cause that is how spectacular this show was—he says to the woman, ‘If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do… cause that’s all there is.’.

And there it is…

There is the moment.

Not too long, not too short.

Just a moment.

And then she says, “It’s a great fucking show… I mean it has 5 seasons, three of which are almost unwatchable but it’s still a great fucking show. And I do not say that lightly, I mean—it’s so simple yet poignant, right? Redemption isn’t something you do for a certain period and then you’re done. The show—and this is another reason why I say it is a fucking genius piece of television—but yeah, the show equates Angel’s search for redemption and struggles with being a vampire to alcoholism. His thirst for blood is quite similar to an alcoholic’s thirst for booze and sobriety is a cruel bitch. You don’t become sober by not drinking alcohol for a set number of days. It’s something you practice every single day. You wake up in the morning and choose to be sober till you go to bed. And then you wake up the next day to make that choice all over again.”

She exhales loudly.

She’s been talking too fast.

Tony keeps telling her she talks too much about shows or films she likes.

“All that was just a long-winded way of saying that we cannot make up for what we did. But trying regardless of that? Now that—” she clicks her fingers, “That is what proves them wrong… it’s what makes us good people,” she tells him.

A hint of a smile glints across his face.

Then he asks, “Is that why you do this?”

With furrowed brows, she asks, “You mean this superhero shit?” When he nods, “God no! The hero gig is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. I do it just for Tony, so there is someone to watch his back when he’s out there because I know for a fact the kid isn’t capable of doing it for himself.” She smiles at the thought of her brother. Shaking her head, she adds, “I—I’m a lawyer. That’s how I decided to help the helpless.”

“It’s kind of funny I suppose.” Slowly she gets up, standing up on her feet. “If there were an actual scale I’d be a lot more fucked in trying to balance things than you are.”

“Why would you say that?” He asks, confused.

As if the answer isn’t fucking obvious. “You were violated, controlled into doing what you did. I on the other hand had a choice—fuck! I was probably the only person in that goddamn place who did!”

“A choice between what? Doing what they told you, or dying at my hands?” He counters, incredulous. His voice rising for the first time.

In the distance, she can hear Steve and Sam parking whatever car they had jacked.

“Just because it wasn’t a good choice, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a choice.”

He doesn’t understand. He can’t.

What he went through was beyond horrible. But it wasn’t like that for her. Every single step of the way, and every single time she chose the easy way out. She chose self-preservation over what was the right thing to do. She was selfish, dangerously so.

Therefore it’s only fair that the price for her freedom should be higher.

How can he not see that?

His jaw clenches at her words, “You’re a hypocrite.”

As Sam and Steve make their way inside the warehouse, she puts her hands inside her pocket turning away from him, she smiles, “33 sentences in half a century, Sergeant.” She turns her head to look at him again, “You do not know me.”

And just like that, the unspoken truce they’d agreed upon has been violated.

When Sam and Steve enter the room, the tension is so palpable Sam asks cautiously, “I feel like we’re interrupting something. Should we step out?”

“Nah, we’re done here.” With that, she turns around and walks out.

Read next part here. Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

tag list: @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @roxannejblack @asimovethroughthisworld @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoriavholland @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888

tag list is open again. hit me up.

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depressed-with-music · 2 years

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Sober

This is my first time writing a one shot so bear with me if it’s shitty. I used they/them pronoun’s however feel free to change them. Also this one shot is based on sober by Selena Gomez.

(Not my gif)

Before the war, before the peaky blinders, before the Shelby’s brothers mother died. Thomas Shelby met Y/N L/N. What went from a sweet childhood friendship to a beautiful relationship when they reached their teen years. But then the war came, and Tommy changed.

We fall for each other at the wrong time Only for a moment, but I don't mind Guess I don't know where to draw the line, the line, the line We're playing the same game every night

The war changed Tommy hell it changed all the Shelby brothers. Tommy went from then happy lad he was to a almost heartless man. As the peaky blinders grew Tommy pushed Y/N away. Yet Y/N stayed in love with him and always came back.

Up in the clouds Yeah, you know how to make me want you When we come down Oh, I know, yeah I know, it's over

Every time Y/N thought about letting Tommy go, he would show them his vulnerable side or give them his signature smirk which would remind them of their old memories. Part of Y/N felt, that maybe they help Tommy she could make him happy again.

You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

Y/N wasn’t stupid they knew Tommy was a that he slept with other women. It hurt them but then Tommy would arrive on their doorstep drunk, while in tears and apologize. Y/N just couldn’t leave him.

Why is it so different when we wake up? Same lips, same kiss, but not the same touch Don't you know that you doing just enough, but not enough But I know what's next, and I want so much

Sunlight filtered through an apartment window. Y/N woke up and saw Tommy smoking a cigarette while sitting on the edge of the bed. Y/N attempted to put they’re arms around Tommy when he pushed them. Even though Y/N smiled and said it was fine they’re heart broke a little more.

Up in the clouds Yeah, you know how to make me want you When we come down Oh, I know, yeah I know, it's over

-You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

Scenes were shown bottles thrown, images of Y/N comforting a drunk Tommy, and one scene of Y/N trying to smile while looking at a mirror but tears are running their face.

I know I should leave, I know I should, should, should But your love's too good, your love's too good, good, good I know I should leave, I know I should, should, should But your love's too good, your love's too good, good, good Yeah

Y/N walked in on Tommy in bed with another woman. They slammed the door shut despite Tommy calling their name. Y/N went to Polly who was like a mother figure to them. Polly saw Y/N she saw how shitty Tommy treated them she thought her nephew would changed. But he didn’t, and Tommy realize what amazing person he had let slim though his fingers.

You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

You've got a hold on me You're like a wasted dream I gave you everything But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

A scene plays where Y/N is seen packing their suitcases. After Y/N’s talk with Polly they realized they deserved someone who loved them and treated with respect not like they were Tommy’s plaything. As Y/N began to get inside their car they were leaving to London where their sister lived. Suddenly a shout was heard and Y/N stopped. It was Tommy he asked Y/N why. They replied,”because you don’t know how to love me when you’re sober.” Then Y/N got in their car ready to find a new path that would be filled happiness.

#tommy shelby x reader #sad song fic #Peaky fooking blinders #Kinda shitty one shot #Mentions of drinking and smoking #Toxic relationship

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greenishness · 1 year

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i've been thinking some more about why i think all quiet on the western front 2022 is a bad adaptation and possibly a bad movie so here's some thoughts.

the book features a stark contrast between periods of waiting for battle, sober but light-hearted in tone, and nightmarish, fragmented, at times incoherent episodes of frontline battle. this contrast intensifies the terror of battle but it also allows the reader periods of relief in which we can spend time with the characters. the book is straight-up funny at times! they are schoolboys and they are fucking around and they all die. the movie's constant grimness allows for much narrower emotionality and in my opinion actually diminishes the terror because it cannot rely on sudden shifts in mood. please 🙏🏻 for the love of god 🙏🏻 switch up your filters

the book is anti-authoritarian, intensely so despite initial censorship, so why on earth did they feel the need to add in a storyline about the good and bad deeds of high ranking military officials? himmelstoß, kantorek and the kaiser scene are all very clear in their messaging: power is usually abused, the people in charge do not have your best interest in mind, and no nation state in the world is worth fighting for. it does not matter what the higher ups think or believe because it's not them who are dying in war. it's a very strange addition that adds absolutely nothing of value and wastes a significant amount of screentime. the politics of this movie are more difficult to parse than they should be.

the movie frames peace as salvation but in the book it is a source of dread. i sorely missed the fronturlaub scenes which show just how little all of these soldiers have to go back to. they are utterly alienated from civilian life and their former selves. paul comes home and the only person he connects with is his ill mother, who is dying and therefore his equal. the movie creates tension by racing paul against the ceasefire deadline – will he make it to the finish line? – but in the book there is no such finish line, the opportunity to get out has passed, there is no peace, says albert. i know that not all changes are bad changes (they are) but this is such an integral part of what made im westen nichts neues an iconic anti-war novel! it was very good at putting into words the trauma of shell shock. the movie on the other hand conforms to non-combatant salvation narratives.

baffled by pauls dramatic death scene. can't even decide if i liked it or not? his narrator to main character swag ig

why did they do that to my man daniel.

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prettybluelites · 7 months

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Thoughts: The Innkeeper

Ahhhhh here we go, part 3 of 3. I'll do the new episodes next week once I've had time to digest. Ugh, I can't believe I have to wait until I get home from work tomorrow to watch, what the actual fuck? Anyway!

That little lick of flame to open is kind of elegant, I like it

"Soul Reaper" makes me laugh because I can just imagine that guy being like, "Yeah, I'm a reaper of souls but also...I've got soul" and it's doubly terrible.

Just watching Zheng in action and thinking about "Every pirate captain captains pirates differently"

I really love Stede's crew lined up and watching as they approach the Revenge, I think they all look suitably shellshocked and I think they're all at least a little bit thinking of it like Jim was when they were talking to Archie, a place where their lives meant something

Stede scaling the side of the ship, not wasting a thought on something as trivial as a rope ladder

One moment to survey the devastation and then back to action

"Guys, hi!" Like there's nothing amiss about the scene he just walked in on. Never change.

"I thought you'd be taller" is such a great callback

"He retired" belongs in the Treacherous Liars Hall of Fame. And "If you don't want to work anymore, you can just give up, I guess," is another early favorite for best line delivery of the Season

Love Zheng's face when she says "Leather. And B.O."

When I watched the trailer and I saw the bits that had this blue saturation to them I called a dream/vision situation and I guess I wasn't far off. Everything about the way this is shot is gorgeous.

My sis: "Why is there a pig?" I think since it's a dream (-ish) it's one of those things where the brain just tries to plug in something, I don't think Ruthie has any real significance but I would love to hear thoughts if anyone has any. It did remind me a little of the bit in "Cold Mountain" where Inman meets the goat woman who cares for him for a time. Like, some mysterious hermits have goats, some have pigs. *shrug*

I think i want to start a band and call it the Coolin' Bevvies

Better name for a band than Shit Tits, anyway

Jim and Olu forever, even if not as a capital-c Couple, even if only as best friends they tell stuff to

The way Con's voice trembles when says "I dared to mention your fuckin' name" - masterful

Stede seems to be realizing that for everything he's coming to understand about Ed and about pirating there's still a whole world of stuff he needs to learn.

Okay, dumb question, is Ed's shirt black or is it purple? Or is it legit changing from shot to shot? Or is it just the...the filter or whatever they used here? (Sorry, I don't know the lingo) whatever, I love it, sometimes his hair even has a purple cast to it, so cool.

Aw, Stede, listen to you, talking it through

When Ed starts flashing back in reaction to Hornigold going at him and there's that one tiny burst of Izzy laughing at him - oh god, that's such a gut punch

Gravy Basket would also be a great name for a band

In all seriousness, Taika is so good in this whole scene

I really like Olu defining a friend as "someone I'd like to see grow old"

Lol every time at "This one has a smell" because yes, chamomile has a smell and it is weird

"I never said that"/"You say that all the time" - another hilarious callback/inversion

Between multiple viewings of both this episode and the trailer, I've seen this bit with Black Pete and the crossbow probably dozens of times and I still laugh out loud every time

Madeleine Sami is gorgeous, just sayin'

I think...Izzy's trying. That's all I'm gonna say for right now. I think he's trying.

"I hate you. I've always hated your guts." Oh, all my insides clenched. Oh Ed.

And then...and then. I don't even know where to start about this whole sequence. I loved it the first time I watched it, and I sobbed (always a good indicator in my book, I think Stede saying "I messed all of this up" is what really touches me off) and I think I've loved it more every time I've watched it. It's beautiful and perfect and sweet and just the right amount of dramatic and just the right amount of...silly, which doesn't mean I'm selling it short or diminishing it in any way, I mean silly in the best possible way. And the way they smile at each other when they're finally face to face? And the way Ed leans in? That's it, going to watch again....

I was too young (and too American, probably) to have really gotten into Kate Bush in her heyday, I knew "Running Up that Hill," and her album "The Red Shoes" got played a little on the radio around here when it was out, but I honestly don't think I knew "This Woman's Work" until recently. I now love it just by virtue of it being so perfect in this scene. The ethereal-ness of it and the way it builds with the action, or the action builds with the song - I can't think of something that would have been better.

The way Stede kind of steels himself before taking the towel off Ed's face

And the way Ed's fingers immediately close around Stede's

If I'm that far in my feels after 3 episodes what is the rest of the season going to do to me??

Thanks for reading, if you're still here! Everybody enjoy episodes 4 and 5!

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #the innkeeper #ofmd s2 e3

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poptod · 3 years

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Will You? (Rami Malek x Reader)

Description: Meeting Rami in the back alley behind an awards show.

Notes: ugh ive been having writers block for the first time in like two years so ive only been writing short stuff. i have a couple fics backpiled for various rami characters so thats coming up! gender neutral as usual WC: 1.5k

Ugh.

How quickly it all became too much. You wondered, clutching your aching head, why you even came here; large parties were never your scene, public events even less so. A world-wide broadcasted movie awards event was nothing near anything you'd done before. Earlier in the day, as you were dressing and readying yourself for the evening, you stared into the mirror and wondered then, as well, what you were doing.

Maybe––probably––it had to do with the fact that one of your favorite actors' presence was assured, and you rarely ever visited New York, making this the first time you'd been in the right place at the right time to have the opportunity to do this. You steeled yourself then and you steeled yourself now, digging into your clutch bag to pull out a carton of cigarettes.

You fumbled with the cigarette as you reached back in, searching for your lighter. A frustrated grumble grew in your mouth and came out as a curse. With a harsh sigh you yanked your hand out, throwing it up into the air, and sitting with a thud on a wooden box laying by the side of a large trash bin. You rubbed your face harshly, attempting to wipe away the irritation. To no avail––you had no lighter, and your nerves were itching, teeming with aggravation that crawled like bugs beneath your skin. You needed this and the world didn't like you.

The door you'd left the building from opened once more, swinging shut with a loud clanking sound that seemed to echo in the vacant alleyway. Drops of water fell into the puddles at your feet, still present from the earlier rain, and now filled with bits of trash. The very same water almost splashed onto you as a car passed by, its' wheels revving and spinning away through a massive puddle. It must've been midnight, but assholes were still awake as well, and the city lights showed no sign of stopping.

This was why you only visited New York City.

"Here," someone with a deep, rough voice spoke, and you looked up to find a vein-filled hand balancing a blue lighter between the second and third fingers.

There weren't any active lights in the alleyway, but the puddles reflected the street lights that stood a few meters away. That was enough to recognize him when you glanced to his face.

Rami fucking Malek.

He turned almost the second you looked up at him, meaning he didn't catch the sudden, stumbling recognition that flooded your expression. Thankfully, you had the time to calm yourself before he sat down across from you on a dirty (and probably wet) stool.

"Thank you," you said, lighting your cigarette and breathing in the sweet smoke before you said anything else. "You're a lifesaver."

"No, I just have a smoking problem," he said.

You both laughed, softly, and looked away.

You took another drag.

"You're Rami Malek, aren't you?" You said through the smoke that escaped you. It was rough on your throat, but you didn't especially care anymore. Somehow, you remembered a flask of water––just not the lighter.

"Yeah," he said with another soft, bashful, chuckle.

"I like your work. Or, your style," you mumbled as you tapped the ashy end away. He might've been a star of your dreams, and mere images of him might've taken your breath away, but you would treat him like a regular person. "It's.. unique, but familiar."

"Thank you," he said, nodding, a charming grin on his face. "May I ask your name?"

"(Y/N)." You shifted in your seat as you looked down. An ounce of humor came to you once you said, "you won't recognize the name."

"No, but I'm happy to recognize it in the future," he said, tilting his head in your direction.

You broke out in a laugh and a wide, blushing grin, shaking your head. God, he looked good in a suit––all black. Silver in his lapel. His neck revealed colored veins that led up to a jawline that would surely cut you. Why was he talking to you? Why was he being nice?

"You're a charmer," you finally said through your giggling, continuing with, "do you want some?" before he could say anything.

You handed the cigarette to him and he took it, pursing his lips and letting go with a puff of smoke. Even in the hot, humid air, those clouds coalesced and drifted away just as usual.

"You're not an actor," he stated, his eyes fixed on the cigarette as he tapped the ashes away. "Not here for that, so why are you here? Just out of curiosity."

"That's... a very good question," you said with an exasperated laugh. "I'm a teacher, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Teacher?" He repeated. "My brother's one of those. What d'you teach?"

He handed the cigarette back to you.

"Third graders," you grumbled. He sucked in a sharp breath in a wince. "I usually do first graders, but not this year."

"That's rough, I've heard those are demonic years," he said, earning a laugh from you.

"Yeah, that's a good way of putting it," you said as you doted on the cigarette. "I guess this is just the first time I've visited New York when an awards show is happening."

"How do you like the big screen life so far?"

"Not very much, but I never thought I would," you said quietly, but he still chuckled. "I... I did think about being an actor, when I was a kid. I think a lot of kids do these days, though. Actors are.. like the new Gods. You know, in ancient times people would worship idols, and that's what people call you now..." you met his gaze and couldn't tear yourself from it, "... idols. Images of something to strive for."

He nodded, his brow creased in deep thought.

"After a while the world shows you what celebrity life is really like, and you read all sorts of things, see how people change... eventually you don't really want it anymore," you said, shrugging. "Or you decide you want it, or want part of it despite the other stuff."

He nodded again but had little to say despite being a celebrity himself.

"Which was it for you?"

"Hm?"

A spell broke over his eyes and he appeared to return to normal, having not heard or comprehended your words.

"Did you become an actor because you wanted all of it, with the bad parts, or you wanted a specific part and still became an actor despite all the other things?"

"... complex question," he said after a moment, rocking his balance back and forth awkwardly as you laughed. "I wanted to become other people, transform myself into characters. I was attracted to the job. Not the other things attached to it."

"Well I'm glad you became an actor anyway," you said, relighting the cigarette with a quick drag. "That way I could meet you."

"And I could meet you, as well," he said in that same, deep voice he used when he first spoke to you.

You could do nothing but chuckle and cast your eyes down, shaking your head.

"Yeah, I guess you could," you mumbled.

He reached forward, snagging the cigarette from between your fingers. That made you look up, drawing your attention back to the subtle lines marking his face, and the glow of fire that revealed cool, green eyes behind thick lashes.

A loud wave of cheering came from inside the building, and the both of you looked back at the steel door. Still unopened.

"I should probably get inside, the cameras might notice my seat's empty," he said in a similar mumble.

The cigarette, now nothing more than a filter, dropped from his lips and fell to the ground, squashed beneath his shiny, black shoe.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Have to be," you said as you stood. "Not wasting a fifty dollar ticket on my damn social anxiety."

He chuckled and said, "I'd invite you to sit with me, but there aren't any free spots. How about..." He'd been opening the door, but he paused, causing you to misstep and halt yourself only when your chest was an inch from his. Your eyes darted up to his. "Come see me after the show. I have a '97 bottle of Montalcino at home that I think you'd enjoy."

You nearly choked on your own spit, but fortunately for you, it only came out as a cough and a clearing of the throat. 'What', almost escaped your mouth in the most astounded tone before you bit it back.

Was he propositioning you? Was this a friendly invitation? Why was, again, Rami fucking Malek asking to spend anymore time with you than he had to?

You realized a silence had spanned between you when his eyes flickered down to your lips, at which point shock fully brought you back into your body.

"Will you?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I'd like that."

#rami malek x reader #rami malek

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mrarchewannabe · 3 years

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First Contact and it's Complications: Part 2 Biology Lesson

This is head researcher Bea'zikal following up from my previous reports as I stated before, I do apologize for the lack explanation and detail in those entries and I will now give you the full documentation of what I have observed with my time spent with Humanity and more specifically Human Head researcher who is referred to as Jamal Alteriq, a very fine scientific mind and excellent guide as he was the one to be our ambassador through Human space and of course to keep eyes on us. We saw many incredible things on our journey and I will explain in due time, but I thought it wise to give a basic run down on human biology to better help visualize the scenes I will explain in later logs. (Note: I advise you to open the attached encrypted files for observation while reading)

Humans are lightly Haired mammals that evolved on a rich but highly diverse Planet that was covered in approximately 71% water with humans living on the 29% of Land, resources were plentiful but competition was fierce as many species competed for control of those same resources, the resources in question being food and 'fresh' water which is a specific term as humans cannot drink water that is above or below a certain Ph. Level or a has a heavy imbalance of minerals;They also cannot drink any water that is contaminated with parasites, or Planetary elements such as dirt. This of course isn't to say humans have entirely weak stomachs as they are capable of consuming certain acids such as Malic and Citric Acid which is used in food flavoring, and of which would result in violent death should either substance be consumed by a Zeatikian, in addition to consumption of such compounds they can digest Certain forms of Alcohol and many forms of Capsaicin which many of course know isn't poisonous but considered non-edible to all Zeatikians and instead sees a use as a defense weapon. Moving on from the topic of consumable and non-consumable liquids brings us to eating habits; Humans specified as Omnivore 'Persistence' Predators, and can consume a wide variety of Meat and Plants, which a balance of both is needed to maintain peak physical form and a healthy digestive and immune system. From what Human Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq has told me ancient human hunting wasn't chasing down prey at high speeds but rather simply outlasting it in a slower walk chase(Note: Humans have a extreme amount of stamina and can walk for hours at a time as they evolved to efficiently maintain a pace of speed) and when the prey was tired and unable to continue on humans would slay the creature and bring it back to be cooked then consumed. (Note: Cooking is one of the few things that are shared in Both Zeatikians and Human evolution) Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq also informed me that eventually ancient Humanity began Agriculture and that is what primarily began to start up human culture and civilization.(Note: again one of the few things that are shared amongst our history)

Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq told me of the Human Life stages which are of a very different cycle of our own from our People the Zeatikians, conception of offspring is relatively the same between our two species, but with various degrees of success in humans as their method of reproduction is relatively different between Human to Human. Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq Suggested that's all we do to speak on the matter and I obliged his request how ever odd I thought it was.(Note: After doing research on this topic myself I also now recommend that all Zeatikian researchers stay away from this topic as well as it's very traumatizing to look at) Humans generally can only have one child every half a cycle but it can be more numerous if chance allows it, and human offspring is extremely vulnerable and must be cared for by it's parents constantly otherwise it will most likely guaranteed to perish; of course in this time human 'infants' (Note: Infants are the name for children that under a cycle and half old) are cared for by not only the parents but also other humans hired to be care takers as well that can give the infants whatever they need at anytime while the parents set off to complete tasks.

Humans possess what is called an Endoskeleton(Note: Observe attached files) which gives their bodies structure and allows an anchor for their extremely complex muscular system as well as keep internal organs safe and secure. This Endoskeleton is made up of bones of very high calcium content and is extremely durable and strong, shown being able to with stand many hits that could cripple, paralyze or downright kill a healthy Zeatikian. Infant humans start out with more numerous but weaker bones and cartilage numbering around 300 individual structures but eventually after many cycles they all fuse into their respective positions and become stronger and thicker; this is most prominent around what they call their 'Skull' which is a bone structure that contains their brain and connects to the spinal column (Note: Observe Highlighted Area) and starts out segmented and eventually becomes fully fused and one solid structure in about 22 cycles. Part of the function of the skull is a basic one hinged jaw that contains anywhere from 32 to 36 bone structures they call teeth which allows them to tear through tougher foods and aids in digestion, the human jaw is relatively weak surprisingly only able to produce 300UPSQ which would absolutely be enough to hurt a Zeatikian so I would advise you be careful.

Adolescent Human offspring undergoes a change around 9 Cycles in males and 7.5 in females, as they approach sexual maturity they begin to swell on muscle mass and increase in growth exponentially over a time period of 4 cycles, during this time hormones are pumped through and over about 1.5 to 2 cycles the voice deepens and body hair is increased, this incredible change is known to cause certain behavior changes as well as changes in diet and appetite. Many human females have certain large orifices located on their chests that are used primarily to feed their young, which should have been obvious seeing how I have already stated they are indeed mammals,(Note: I have been told to report on this much only as logging anymore would make many among the human population uncomfortable, I do not know why but I shall oblige) and as mammals they are indeed warm blooded, which means they do not take too well to fluctuating temperatures as Being in below freezing temperatures for too long can lead to a humans death in about 20 minutes should they be naked in said weather; and so if in the future you have humans boarding your vessel be sure to keep it atleast a median temperature of 400TM and provide them with necessary heating elements if they do not have any.

Humans possess a 'Circulatory system' much like our own that pumps blood all across it's body at a very steady rate of 60 to 100 beats per tick, which is quite slow compared to our 120 to 150 beats per tick. Humans also possess a blood color that shines a bright red compared to that of a Zeatikian that has a bright purple hue, both of our species have iron in our respective Hemoglobins but our kind carries what they call 'Hemerythrin' while they carry whats called 'Heme' and thus that's what gives the difference in blood pigmentation. They also possess various different organs that process everything from sugars and proteins to alcohol and carbs, the 'Liver' which is described as a 'Blood Filter' cleanses the blood as it passes through it, while organs like the 'Kidneys' process liquid waste, sugars, salts, and all minerals to help keep it stable within the body.

The Human 'Immune system' is a very strong and very important system in the human body as humans do not have segmented Carapaces like all Zeatikian's have, rather they possess a skin of 7 layers and this layered skin protects the body from the outside world, when penetrated or slashed open blood will began to flow out much like a broken carapace or cut joint segment would, the cells in the human would try to seal the cut with platelets which will form a scab, which is a temporary seal while the skin is being repaired anew; as this process does share similarities with the way our Carapace heals itself our process is much slower while the humans can heal their skin in a matter of a few rotations depending on the severity of the injury. Of course during the cut possible bacteria and other such microorganisms could have infiltrated the bloodstream and usually once successful they become targeted by the protector cells or as humans call them 'white blood cells' for destruction.

The 'Digestive track' is relatively self-explanatory so I will be brief on the subject, when food is consumed it is first chewed and made wet by the 'Saliva' a human produces in their mouth which helps break it down further and eases the transfer of food from the mouth down the 'Trachea' as they call it and into the 'Stomach' which becomes broken down by 'Stomach' acid,various compounds,and gut bacteria that absorb the nutrients and forward the waste through what humans call the 'Large Intestine' which then transfers through the 'Small intestine' which is the excreted by the Human, relatively the same processes any Zeatikian goes through.

Humans of this modern era however are nearly perfect as about 1000 cycles ago an event on their home world that was put into motion made humans as nearly perfect as they could be biologically, but this change however was not a instant process as the changes would only take place slowly after every generation, each one living longer then the last, getting sick less, and less in the population being born with genetic conditions that had debilitated humanity for eons. Nowadays it is rarer for humans to catch a sickness, but impossible for any human being to be born with a genetic condition aside from the few they found desirable. Many live long fulfilling lives from what I'm told by Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq, some living their full total lifespans of 200 cycles which I can only dream of living a mere 40 cycles let alone a long 200 cycles.

This concludes my report on the basic biology of humanity I hope you found it informative and helpful, I shall work on my next log about human economic and social status, which Human Head Researcher Jamal Alteriq Helped immensely on.

Head Researcher Bea'zikal Signing off

(I hope you enjoy the sequel to what I wrote first I'm really proud of this one but please tell me if there is anything I could do to better my writing? Constructive criticism is appreciated, more parts on the way)

#science fiction #humans are space orcs #sci fi/fantasy #sci fi #writing #aliens #scifiandfantasy

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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I agree with your Jily thoughts but wondering if you could talk a bit more about it? Why did James bother wasting all that time chasing Lily? Was she just that pretty? Were they ever happy or truly in love? Why did she say yes? If the war didn't happen who would have Jily ended up with? I'd like to think someone like Andromeda (not her exactly, but someone from a pureblood family who held non racist values) for James and i dunno maybe a muggle for Lily? Considering muggleborns arent exactly set up for success and I cant see Lily being okay with living as a second class citizen

For reference, some heretical thoughts on James and Lily's marriage. Also some thoughts on James which include some thoughts on his relationship with Lily.

And you really want me to get flayed over the internet, don't you anon?

Well, I guess that's what I'm here for. So here we go, hopefully people very upset by this sort of thing have their anti filters up.

Why Did James Bother Wasting All that Time Chasing After Lily?

For what it's worth, especially when they're teenagers before real life sets in, I do think James likes Lily.

She's very pretty, which certainly helps, but she's also very driven, very smart, and seems to be very personable (though it does not seem as if she is close with many).

Lily has a lot of likeable qualities beyond just her face that James could be interested in.

That said, there's also her background. I think, especially for a young James in Hogwarts, Lily being muggleborn would make her very appealing.

By pursuing her, he is actively spitting in the face of the Blacks, the Malfoys, and pretty much name your smarmy pureblood family. More, Lily is... not the token muggleborn per se, but the golden standard.

She's pretty, very smart, achieves very good results, again is personable, and all around pleasant. She's the muggleborn that defies the rules and you can take to parties and say, "Wow, look how amazing muggleborns are!"

Compare her to Snape, who is a halfblood, comes from an abusive household, is impoverished, is not good looking, and is not personable.

Notice that James and friends torment the living hell out of Snape, but it's cool, they're progressive because James likes Lily.

And then there's also the challenge of it.

Lily keeps saying no.

Rather than get discouraged, this just encourages James, as it means he's not trying hard enough. James seems to be the guy who likes the chase, if he wasn't, then he would have given up years ago as you said.

Were They Ever Happy or Truly in Love?

I imagine there was a time when they were happy.

They did date shortly in Hogwarts and it must have gone well enough for the relationship to survive graduation. If it was unbearably awful they would have broken up with each other long before that point.

Now, do I think Lily knew the full extent of how much James and pals harassed Snape? No.

Do I imagine Lily had to put up with a lot of talk about how progressive James and Pals are because Sirius has an ACDC t-shirt? Yes.

Do I think Lily's life without Snape proved very bleak and she faced a bleaker future with prospects of unemployment and poverty? Yes.

Do I imagine that Lily got in the way of bro-time for James? Well, he probably made bro-time happen anyway, but she must have to some extent and I'm sure Sirius asked him, "Dude?! What happened to us?!"

But again, if they really were miserable together, they wouldn't have made it to graduation.

In love?

Well, it's hard to say, but I'm inclined to say no.

In Hogwarts they're too young, they don't know enough about each other. They might be riding high on puppy love, maybe, but that's not the same thing.

What we see outside of Hogwarts points to constant stress and hardship that would ruin even the most functional relationship. The small glimpses we do have into their marriage then (that James would run off while in hiding with the invisibility cloak, risking all of their lives, for no reason) is not good.

I imagine as the realities of being in hiding, of having a prophesied child, sunk in their relationship fell into complete disrepair.

If they were in love, I don't think love could survive that, at least, not with these two.

Why Did She Say Yes?

God, you people are going to kill me.

Well, first, Lily as a muggleborn has no prospects and after losing Snape she has no friends.

Lily's last few years of Hogwarts are desperately lonely, James seems to have toned it down and appears to be one of the few purebloods sympathetic to her, and he really seems to like her. He has never wavered in liking her once over many years.

He seems like he's changed.

Perhaps, she can give him a chance.

I imagine Lily at first tentatively agrees to go on a date, and he is charming and funny, so one date turns into two and then they're officially dating.

As for marriage.

... Yeah I just have to say it, shotgun wedding.

They get married and have a child very quickly, and granted, that seems to be the norm in the wizarding world but remember their circumstances.

Both Lily and James are active fighters in Dumbledore's illegal vigilante group, neither appears to have a career (James being old money doesn't have to but I imagine Lily tried (and failed) to find one).

Lily is muggleborn. I don't care how progressive James' parents are, as the heir of a very wealthy and established pureblood family I'm sure they looked at this red-headed muggleborn without a galleon to her name and just died of a heart attack.

True, James was their only child and the product of many difficult years conceiving, and he's from a more progressive family but...

I just see the Potters and many other of the 'lighter' pureblood families having more of the philosophy of "Muggleborns should absolutely go to Hogwarts, get an education, and have a place in society. But don't invite them over for dinner."

That James is allowed to marry Lily very quickly, with seemingly little fuss, with seemingly no obligation of turning down a previously arranged marriage (though the surviving Marauders could have left out such details when recapping things to Harry), and how quickly Harry is born in the times he's born in...

Shotgun wedding.

If the War Hadn't Happened Who Would James and Lily Ended Up With?

Well, I think the shotgun wedding would have happened regardless. But let's say that's not in the books and that there's not a war disrupting things either.

I imagine the relationship doesn't work out as they realize they have different interests and are too different of people. There's very little tying them together.

James likely marries whoever his parents arrange for him to marry. A daughter of a well-to-do established, pureblood line. Which of these women this would be is anyone's guess, but somebody. Probably not any of the Black sisters as they're already accounted for.

As for Lily, I imagine she remains single for a good while. Everyone she knows in her age range is from Hogwarts, this world is very small, and she's probably not going to end up with any of them for the issues you list.

Purebloods really don't get it. The closest are... Arthur Weasley. And when he and Sirius Black riding motorcycles are the closest your culture gets to respect, you're in for a rough dating scene.

If she does end up in a relationship it's with somebody outside of canon or non-obvious.

(And look at me not plugging my ship because I know it's ridiculous. Be proud of me readers.)

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #harry potter shipping #james potter #anti james potter #lily evans #james/lily #anti james/lily #meta #headcanon #shipping #opinion

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Neon Seoul

; Cyberpunk Detective!Jimin x Detective!Reader

; Genre: Angst, smut, slight fluff

; Word Count: 25.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, you are his partner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what partners did.

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

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

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

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

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

Night just meant more crime.

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

“Ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There just wasn't enough time in the day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe not yet anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks hot, and beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Name: Jung Hoseok.

Age: Unknown

DOB: Unknown

Height: 5’10

Weight: 69kg

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Emergency Contact: Unknown

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

Convictions: None

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that acceptable?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It turned your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff+small amount of angst

⤷ Word Count: 5307+

⤷ Warnings: Drunk reader, cursing, also reader+Bakugo will be aged up (early 20′s, cause no underage drinking in this house!)

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo doesn’t have any feeling for you. You’re just one of his shitty friends and that’s it. He’s only picking you up from a bar after your breakup because you drunk called him and not because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t feel his heart pang when you say you want him to drive you to his apartment, not yours. He doesn’t completely turn beet red when he sees you change into his clothes.But, as much as he denies it, Bakugo realizes he loves you when you cry to him drunkenly , saying you wished you had a lover as sweet as him

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event! Also this was actually inspired by @shoutogepi HC of Bakugo and Kirishima taking care of their drunk s/o! I honestly loved this headcannons so much, and they really inspired me to write a more angsty sort of spin on it. Here’s a link to her post (I also explicitly asked her if it was alright to take inspiration from her headcannons, just in case!)

Bingo Slot: Realized Feelings

Bakugo stepped his foot deeper into the gas, the engine in his car roaring as it zoomed through the dark streets.

Damn you and your shitty decisions.

He had been woken up in the dead of the night to his phone ringing annoyingly against his bedside table. Your caller ID of “Cute Shithead” was shining brightly against his face, his finger immediately taking the call.

He had to admit, he was a little annoyed for you calling him so damn early in the morning, but hearing your voice immediately melted any irritation. By the way your words slurred together, you sounded completely wasted. That alone could turn him into a worried frenzy, but the tone of your voice sent ice down his spine.

You sounded so lonely, so defeated, as if you had lost all hope and were giving up.

He rammed his foot again into the gas, following the directions to the club you said you were at as closely as possible over the roar of his engine.

He was just being a decent friend and helping you out, he told himself. There was no other reason why he was helping you...it wasn’t because his heart practically dropped at the sound of your voice, or how he felt his chest tighten when you said “Please come get me Katsuki”

Or that you had called him, not anybody else, to come and get you. It was all platonic-he had to keep telling himself that.

He hastily pulled into the parking lot, his car swerving into a spot a little too haphazardly. He yanked the keys from the vehicle, closing the inky black door with a thud as he looked at the building in front of him.

A bright, Neon green sign lit up the roof, a line of club goers filtering through as they waited for the bouncer to allow them in. It was pretty late in the night-2 am to be exact-so more people were stumbling out of the club than actually going on.

Bakugo quickly began to walk over to the establishment, his body weaving through drunken couples clambering to their cars or taxis. He was searching everywhere, helplessly trying to find your face in every person he saw.

Where the hell were you?

Bakugo turned to his side, looking at the asphalt that lead into the club. There were parking spots right there, all empty, probably for Ubers and Lyfts to come pick up people who had ordered them. THere were a few people sitting on the curb, waiting for their rides as they sat on their phone or blabbered drunkenly to their friends.

But then he spotted a familiar body, their shoulders slump down in exhaustion, their eyes downcast in defeat. He quickly made his way over, knowing exactly who that body belonged to.

“Shit y/n, the hell are you doing here by yourself-“

He quickly bent down, looking at you square in the face.

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes so full of relief and sadness he felt his heart ping from your expression.

He had to admit- you looked like a wreck. Your once meticulously curled hair was frizzy and in shambles from dancing, your makeup splotchy in places and black coating under your eyes.

HIs calloused hands wrapped around your waist, his other arm gently pulling your free hand around his neck for support. He felt like he was moving a ragdoll-you complied with each of his movements, your body resting against his as if you depended on him

“Well, I did have some f-friends… with me…” your murmured out, your voice thick from sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“And the hell are they?”

“-they left a few hours ago…” you slurred,” I said I’d stay… a little longer”

Bakugo began to walk you to his car, the walk more like a stumble as he tried to guide you on your wobbling feet. He felt his insides heat up with an intense flame of rage, licking up and consuming his insides. How the hell could your ‘friends’ just leave you? THis was nothing like you, to be so impulsive that you became incredibly vulnerable in public. Something was seriously wrong with you, something you had to be going through.

“Shitty friends for leaving you like this.” he replied gruffly, making no attempt to hide his obvious anger. “Are you okay? Did anybody try and do anything funny to you?”

He was worried, he had to admit that to himself- you were clearly in a wrong headspace in a pretty sketchy place. Anything could go wrong, and he wanted to make sure that nothing happened.

Not because the idea of you dancing with another guy makes him want to punch a wall.

Or trying to lure you to his apartment made him want to yell and break that imaginary mans jaw, in order to keep you safe in his arms.

Nope-strictly platonic.

You scoffed at the blonde's words, a harsh chuckle spilling out of your chapped lips. “Of course Bakugo, everybody here wants to grope the girl who looks like she’s been crying all day-

“I’m fine-really”

Somehow, even with your slurring words and clouded mind, these words were the first sober syllables you had uttered.

But- if you were fine, you wouldnt be going to a club this late at night. You would have been smart enough to at least stay alert, not completely wasted, and you definitely wouldn't be by yourself. Your werent fine, and Bakugo knew it, because you werent being you.

He was impulsive, irrational, and went with his gut feeling, even if it was a stupid or dangerous idea. You on the other hand, were like his better half: calm yet forceful, a commanding tide to soothe the volcanic eruptions of his anger.

But now you were different, a choppy whirlpool of emotions that were locked away deep inside you, the effects changing your once calm and rational demeanor into something saddened and desperate.

Bakugo gave you a long look, his red eyes slanted as he tried to read what was on your mind.

He stopped your two’s trudging, finally being in front of his car.

A protest was dying to spill from his lips, to retort and fight back the obvious lie you had just uttered. But something in your tired voice made him falter, making him feel more empathy for you than frustration

“Okay then…” he sighed, “let’s get you home,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

It was unnervingly quiet.

Bakugo had the music off, worried that the thumping bass would aggravate any possible headache you had as you curled up in the seat beside him, your high heeled shoes long forgotten on the floor of his car.

He drove much more smoothly than before, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the road. He wasn't used to this kind of you-he missed your smile, and the way you would joke and laugh with him. Of course he would act like he didn't like it, giving you snarky comments and off handed insults that would only push you even more to joke with him.

Now he felt like he was next to a shell of you- you were there, right next to him, but- You weren't there. Your smile, your spirit, your light- it was being blocked by some darkness inside you.

“Are-are you mad at me Katsuki?”

You finally spoke to him, making Bakuo’s eyes wide and his heart stop in his chest.

Why did you sound so timid?

Bakugo continues to glue his eyes on the road, his voice gruff yet uncertain.

“The hell I’d be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know…” you replied softly, “you just sounded-mad”

Shit- now he felt guilty, making you feel worse than you probably already did. It was just that he was worried, and sometimes his emotions came out quicker than his words. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you out of all people could act like this.

“Well, I’m not mad at you-I’m just-“ he sighed, trying to find the words.

“- the hell were you out that late? The club scene isn’t your thing”

You shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, cuddling yourself in closer to your body.

“I thought I told you-” you answered sadly, ‘I got dumped”

Bakugo blinked a couple times, the shock vibrating throughout his body. He knew you had a boyfriend, apparently Shindo Yo, the damn pretty boy of another hero agency. You were his closest friend after all, so he dealt with the news as best he could, but Bakugo has never liked the guy. He always chalked it up to him being protective over you as your friend, but the way he used to feel so angry and so frustrated whenever he saw you hold hands or hug made him want to scream. A small amount of happiness filled up his chest by hearing you say you were single, instantly making him feel guilty as he saw how distraught you were.

“The hell-“ he gulped out quickly, “what for?”

“Dont know..” you sighed, your face contorted in a grimace, “he-he said he needed to focus on his career-and that-that I was going to stop him from achieving his goals-”

Bakugo instantly felt anger erupt in his chest, his hands becoming clammy against the leather steering wheel.

“Wait-that dickwad, Shindo Yo, right? The damn extra won't amount to nothing, the hell he-”

He was rambling, the spiteful words spewing from his lips. He just couldn’t understand why your piece of shit of a boyfriend would dump someone as amazingly kind and caring as you, and go as far to say such awful words. It made him incredibly furious, and all he wanted to do was confront your now ex and give him a piece of his mind for causing you to act this way.

He was surprised though to hear your voice interject him, your tone stern yet pleading.

“Bakugo, can we not talk about it? Please?”

He wanted to kick himself for being so inconsiderate, an embarrassed blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Shit-I-okay,yeah”

The car ride continued in silence, Bakugo staring at the road in conflict, you cuddling yourself into a small ball on the leather seat.

It continued for a few minutes, until Bakugo broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked gruffly, looking at you slightly from the side.

He noticed you shift, turning to look at him with large, pleading eyes.

“Can-can we go to your place instead?” you squeaked out, almost as if worried by his response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mean earlier….I just- always feel so safe and warm when I go to your apartment, Katsuki”

Bakugo felt his heart quicken in his chest-you called him “Katsuki”, his name. Something in you saying that made him feel hot from flusteredness, but then you said you felt safe with him...he had never been more thankful for the darkness of night, because he knew his face was completely red.

He gulped, trying to build up the wall around his emotions you were trying to knock down. With each word or truth that spilled from your sleepy, drunken mouth, he found it harder to keep his feelings at bay. He took a deep breath, his clammy hands readjusting on the steering wheel.

You two were just friends.

He didn’t like you like that and you-you probably didn’t either.

He needed to be Bakugo, your best friend, your rock in hard times, not Bakugou, the blushing mess next to you that was concerned with his own feelings.

He clicked the turn signal on his car to the right, taking the route back to his home instead of yours as he sighed.

“-Fine.”

Bakugo pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the bumpy street roads now turning smooth as he fit his car through the metal gate and settled into a parking spot near his apartment.

He turned the key of the car, killing the roaring engine as he stepped out of the car, the closing door as a soft thud as he commanded you to “Stay inside”.

Your sluggish head instantly perked at the statement, unable to understand what he had meant by that. But your body felt too tired, mentally and physically, and too weak to even protest. You stayed there, cuddled into the seat as Bakugo opened the door of the passenger seat, his arms outstretched as they tucked themselves under your body.

“Wait what are you-“ you asked sluggish, your eyes barely open as you wrapped your digits around his arms.

“I’m picking you up”

HIs tone was calm and forceful, as if this was a completely normal occurrence between the two of you- which it wasn't.

You instantly blushed at the prospect, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue.

“You don’t have to, I can-“

“I could barely walk you to car and that was in flat ground,” he retorted back, I’m not gonna walk you up stairs-”

“Just let me do this”

He stated a little more softly, his voice gruff and low as he picked you up off the seat as if you weighed nothing to him. Your hands instantly latched onto his neck finding comfort by burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Shit-why you had to go and be so cute?

His grip around your body tightened, making sure you felt secure as he walked you up the plight of steps to his apartment.

Something about this felt so surreal- your warm body against his, his hands wrapping your thighs, the way your hair felt against his cheek...these were all sensations that left his heart pounding.

All of this seemed to frustrate him as much as it brought him joy-he shouldn't feel any of these tingling sensations around you. He shouldn't feel weightless and giddy, or terrified he'd do the wrong thing around you all the time. It bothered him to know end, and made him feel so frustrated.

But the most frustrating part was the fact you were oblivious- that you had this secret power over him and you didn't even know it.

He finally stepped foot in his apartment, setting you down gently as he ruffled through his pockets for his keys. His hand was still wrapped around your waist, giving you some stability as he opened the door with a slow creak, ushering you inside.

You stepped inside, feeling somewhat out of place- you had been here countless times before: parties, get togethers, the meet up place before you would hang out with the Bakusquad….so why did it feel so strange?

The room felt more intimate in a way-you had never been here without someone else, usually Kirishima.

And youd been here at night, but never this late, and the fact you had asked to sleep over- well, everything just felt so new and raw.

Thankfully Bakugo broke through your rapid thoughts, his vermillion eyes looking down at you with slight worry.

“You good? No needing to throw up or anything?” he asked gruffly.

God he felt so close- you could practically feel his heat radiating into your body still, making your cold digits beg for his touch.

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughts, a small “Mm-mm” and a shake of your head the only thing you could muster to do.

He led you over to his room, passing the small kitchen and bathroom as he did.

“Then you need new clothes- get you out of that clubbing crap”

Your mouth instantly formed into a pout, your eyes looking up at your best friend.

“It's not crap-its pretty”you corrected him, your tone playfully hurt.

“More like tight,” he replied snarkily, “ how do you even move in that thing?’’

You were about to quickly retort back that he should wear the dress and find out, but then a sudden image of Bakugo wearing your skin tight dress at a club made you instantly double over in giggles.

Bakugo gave you a questionable look, his red eyes almost judging your drunken, laughing form.

“I just keep it down with my hands silly,” you said in between giggles, your body flopping onto the plush comforter of his bed. Now you felt a little more at ease, as if the courage of alcohol had kicked into your system yet again.

Bakugo shook his head, his blonde locks swaying at the motion as he quietly said ‘Giggly ass drunk” under his breath. He began to rustle through his closet, trying his best not to stare at your form laying across his bed in such a body accentuating dress.

You hadnt seemed to notice Bakugo's rhetoric or dilemma, a soft smile gracing your lips stiill. Your propped your body up on your elbows, your tousled hair pooling against your skin.

“so what amazing little number are you gonna put me in now?”

“-This,”

You felt cloth instantly hit you square in the face, as if Bakugo had thrown it over his shoulder-most likely on purpose.

Usually you would attack the asshole for doing something like that, but you just felt too tired to even throw an insult back. Your lips pouted out once again, a small whine escaping your throat as you ripped the shirt from your face.

Bakugo grinned slightly at you ,finding your expression adorable as well as funny. He watched you inspect the shirt, the fabric as dark as your dress.

“You would think interning with Best Jeanist would have left some fashion sense in you,” you spewed out, your face clearly distraught by the shirt he had given you.

He rolled his eyes, his grin now turning into a grimace.

Was drunk you really that picky over a shirt?

“That was 5 fucking years ago, and I only interned with him cause he was one of the best,” he tried to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grown warm from your drunken disapproval. But his fiery personality kicked in, his tongue beginning to stutter over his words. “- just throw the goddamn shirt on before I let you sleep in that shit you call a dress”

“Or I could sleep in my underwear, there's other alternatives,”

your words flew out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, a triumphant grin on your face as you saw how beet red Bakugo became.

A giggle escaped from your lips, the sound ringing softly against his ears.

“Dont worry Katsuki, Ill wear the clothes,” you gave him a soft smile, cuddling the clothing to your chest.

He blinked a few times, trying to get his heart to settle back into a steady rhythm.

This wasn't real.

You didn't make him nervous.

You were just his best friend- you being in his room, in a pretty dress, making flirty remarks didn't affect him.

You were drunk-you weren't yourself right now- so why did he feel so hopeful? And for what?

He quickly spun on his heel, turning around before you could catch the glowing in his cheeks.

“Whatever-just call me if you need help” he threw over his shoulder, his hands closing his bedroom food with a loud slam.

Bakugo sat himself on the couch in his living room, his hands resting on his face, his elbow connected to his legs.

The hell was going on with him?

As he was brooding over his conflicted emotions, he heard the door of his room click open, and it seemed all his feeble attempts to slow down his heart went out the window.

There you were, clad in his black tshirt, the fabric pooling around your thighs and making your arms look tiny in the flowing fabric. You must have been wearing the shorts worn from under your dress, but still- he got a full view of your beautifully plush thighs, making heat rise to his cheeks.

Strange sensations filled his stomach, that tingling butterfly sensations filling his stomach-

The hell was wrong with him?

“For your clothes being so bland, they are pretty comfy…” you smiled up at him, his heart quickening at the small gesture.

You walked your way over the couch, resting your body opposite him, giving ample space between the two of you as you sighed in content.

“I could go to sleep right now”

Bakugo snorted, his arms wrapping against his chest as the heat continued to rise in his cheeks.

“The hell your not-”

You instantly pushed yourself up, cocking your head at Bakugou in confusion.

He had to admit it to himself- your looked-cute-, sitting there, your legs crossed with his shirt wrapped around your frame, your eyes wide and hair a mess.

He could get used to seeing you like this-

But shit he couldn't-didnt-think like that. You were his friend, nothing more.

“What do ya mean?” you asked “You were complaining about me two minutes ago, wouldn't you want me to go to sleep?”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sure but-I'm not letting you go to sleep with all that shit on your face-”

Your hands instantly went to touch your face, your digit scrubbing against the skin.

“Huh?-Oh”

You looked down, and there on your hand was your foundation, a tiny bit too dark as it had mingled with your bronzer and highlighter, black running against your skin like tire streaks on a road.

How did you not even feel that was on your face? How drunk were you?

The thought of you being so intoxicated you forgot you had makeup on seemed like the funniest thing ever, giggles dribbling out of your lips.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” you laughed, chuckles wracking through your body.

Bakugo simply shook his head, unable to contain a smirk from gracing his lips. He got up slowly, walking over to your side of the couch to offer you his hand.

“Alright cmon-you giggly ass drunk,” he smirked, his lungs tightening as you gave him a smile of your own, your smaller hand slowly taking hold in his larger one.

You leaned into his body, already accustomed to him being your support- he would at least admit it right now...you were cute

He walked you over to his bathroom, his digit flicking on the light switch.

It was a little small, with enough room to hold two people inside. He gently pressed you against the wood of the cabinet, his hands grabbing your waist as he hoisted you on to the counter.

Any other day you would be embarrassed by this sudden closeness with your best friend but something about this felt bitter sweet. It had been so long it seemed like since someone had truly cared for you, being there by your side and making sure you were okay. It felt comforting to have Bakugou near you, but you knew this wouldnt last. You were drunk and feeling broken-is was just his obligation as your friend to get you through the night. Once you sobered up, itd be back to the way things were-bitterly lonely.

As you muddled in your emotions, your feet dangling against the cabinets, Bakugo was rummaging through in the cabinet next to you, emerging with a bottle of makeup remover.

You cocked your head at the bottle, the liquid inside an artificial yet soothing blue.

Why did he have that?

Bakugo stared down at the bottle in his hand, his red eyes quickly glancing at the writing on the side and setting it down on the counter, now rummaging for a cloth.

“This shit should work-”

Your hand grabbed the bottle, now inspecting it in curiosity.

“When did you get this?”

“Remember last time you came over,” he asked over his shoulder,” when the power went out in your apartment and you said you had to do your makeup?”

You simply nodded your head-you remembered that day. You had planned to go and watch a movie with your boyfriend-ex, and the screening was at exactly 12 am since it was premiering. You had wanted to look at least a little decent, but fate had gone against you and destroyed that plan halfway into putting on your makeup. So you had of coursed called Bakugo, who grumpily obliged to let you use his apartment.

Bakugo’s hands gently took the bottle from yours, his hot skin brushing against yours as he applied the liquid to the cloth. His frame fit snugly in between your legs, your inner thighs brushing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Well, You left it-”

He simply stated, everything in his being trying to keep his tone leveled as he began to wipe your skin clean of the events from the night.

You had never seen Bakugo be so gentle- he was taking his time, focusing on one small area and then moving onto the next. His strokes were even and light as air, not digging into your skin or forceful in any way.

“And- and you kept it?” you gulped out, your eyes searching his own vermillion ones.

Bakugo was scared, terrified even-he didnt want to look you in your eyes.

Would he do something he regretted if he did?

He was trying to control himself, to fight everything in him all night to not let you catch on to him, to not let you or himself see his true emotions...he was getting too tired to fight, and he was scared that he’d let something slip that he didnt even know about himself yet.

“Well yeah, I wasn't just going to throw it away,” he answered,” I figured you'd come and get it,”

He paused, his hand faltering against your skin for the smallest second. Maybe-it wouldn't hurt to say something...you were drunk after all, you wouldn't remember most of tonight probably….

“-also,” he gulped out, his heart beating in his chest, “ Its nice to have reminder of you here too,”

Your eyes instantly widened, the wind knocked out of your chest, constricting almost in pain.

Why did that make you feel so-so fluttery inside?

And why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because it almost sounded like-Bakugou may care for you? More than just a friendly way?

No-it couldn't….he was your best friend….but god, it felt so good to be cared for, to actually feel wanted-

And of course had to be by someone you knew you never had a chance with.

Your shoulders began to shake, realizing how much you must have screwed up-you lost your boyfriend, was humiliated by him, and then humiliated your own self by losing control.

Bakugo was the only one you had truly could count on-he was the one person you called, and he had shown up to get you. He had tried his best to keep you comfortable, went out of his way to keep you safe, his best to keep you happy…

How long had it been since someone had been this caring to you?

Your shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything crashing down on you, tears spilling across your cheeks like rain droplets outside a car window.

How did everything turn out so wrong?

Bakugo instantly noticed your change, his body instantly panicked and worried.

“Shit-y/n, you okay? Whats wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he set the cloth down and wrapped his hands around your forearms, securing you as wave after wave of tears racked your body.

He wrapped you into a slow hug, his warm palms placed firmly against your back as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

He felt so warm and safe, your noise buried into the soothingly sweet smell that was him.

“Katsuki I-I-Im sorry, I didnt mean to-” you blubbered out, trying your best to apologize over your heightened emotions.

Bakugo had no idea what to do- was this just something you did when drunk? He had no idea why you had started crying, and he hoped it wasn't something he did- but telling by how in pain you looked and how quickly you welcomed his embrace, this was something he didnt do and couldn't fix-at least not quickly.

He continued to hold you tightly, his hands beginning to become clammy against your back.

“Dont say sorry-Your fine, just- tell me whats wrong,”

He felt your hands ball his shirt in your fists, your chin digging deeper into his skin.

“I wish I could find a guy as great as you,”

Shit.

Bakugo’s face turned beet red, his arms stiffening at your words- when he asked what was wrong, he didnt mean something like that.

But the truth comes out when you're drunk, and Bakugo fully believed in this saying…

Did that mean-you liked him?

He couldn't deny it now- it was too hard and everything was against him at this point.

Just the small prospect of being your lover made Bakugo’s heart quicken, the little sentence you just uttered destroying the wall he had kept to protect himself from the truth.

He liked you.

Alot actually.

He scoffed, trying his best to remain calm as he cradled you in his arms.

“Im not as great as you think I am,”

He felt you cuddle yourself even deeper into his neck, your hair tickling his jawline.

You seemed to be calming down as Bakugo had had a mental crisis….your sobs were now sniffles, and you werent breathing as hard. But you still were cuddled deep into his body, as if using him to block yourself from the outside world.

“No you are, you really are…”you sighed quietly, “ even if you are an ass sometimes, you are very kind and sweet-

“I just wish I could date someone like you,”

Shit.

How could he even say anything after that?

How was even able to respond?

He wouldn't-Bakugo decided to hold you quietly, as if you never said anything...but those words were echoing inside his head.

God- you could date him in a heartbeat. But, reality kicked into Bakugou- you were drunk, and just got dumped. You were just starved of touch and affection from that.

There was no way sober you would have said something so revealing as this- you saw him as his best friend, nothing more and nothing less of that. You wouldn't jeopardize your relationship by saying something that could mean the end of your friendship.

Bakugo felt the tightness of your body loosen, your breathing now regular, something so different from a few minutes ago.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly, almost timidly as he waited for a response.

Nothing.

Bakugo sighed, a small, tired smile playing on his lips

“You fell asleep huh?”

Bakugo playfully rolled his eyes as your quiet demeanor spoke the truth for him.

His hands found themselves placed against your back, wrapping against your body once again so that your legs were around his waist, his arm supporting you as he carried you back to his room.

Maybe in the morning you would remember this...maybe not. He was conflicted- a part of him hope you didn't, so your relationship could resume as normal, but- something in him hoped you remembered. And hoped you wanted to talk more about it- because if you felt the same way and meant it, he wouldn't mind to see if you two could be more than just friends.

He pecked a look at your sleeping form, your smushed face against his shoulder making his heart fill with warmth.

“Shit-if only you knew...I would date you-

“even if your a giggly ass drunk,”

597 notes · View notes

honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

find me in san francisco

ship: sam/bucky

warning: violence, cursing, apocalypse

summary:

Bucky looked over to Sam for a moment before speaking, "Las Vegas may have currency but it doesn't have you."

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes stumble upon each other once more at the aftermath of war.

—■—■—

Run. That’s what you do best anyway, isn’t it?

The view of a beachside stretches, the sand a murky grey with glasses and scraps of metal lining the boardwalk as if washed up against the rough and harsh soil, leaning against the ugly and crumbling brick wall where the actual boardwalk started up above at a level, and at a low tide the pitch-black ocean water lapped against the side at an increasingly frightening pace, as if it was always unsteady, always unnatural. Here on this sand, he ran, clad in a black ensemble, a matching WWII remnant design gas mask on his face, tubes attached to an oxygen tank he had in a backpack. He almost left no boot prints on the shore due to the dense debris that littered there. It was frightening what the last decade had given the earth — so terrible.

The man was running as fast as he could, biting down his tongue as he breathed at an interval of every three minutes – he had managed to breathe every five or six minutes when he was idle, and he has yet to learn to save his breath as he runs. He reaches the staircase that led to the boardwalk, hopping up the marble steps that cracked at every step he made, turning and twisting until he made his way out of the abandoned boardwalk, and was it just him when the stores and barest frames of buildings moaned in agony as the only life that passed through its once lively soul had left as soon as it arrived, or was it just the hunger that nipped at his guts?

He ended up by the road, and it was abandoned by cars and people, buildings just as decayed and bare as the ones in the boardwalk. He looked around for a moment, frantically—he has perfected the art of saving his breath, he’s been breathing for an interval of four minutes now, based on his watch. He took a right and ran as fast as his legs could go, which was a fast jog that could carry him for three hours at most without wasting his breath.

As the road ended up uphill, with him leaning forward against the heavy pull of gravity from below, there was a view of a clinic before the T-intersection. Our man didn’t falter in step and breath as he reached the clinic, breaking the glass door in one swing with his right elbow. The glass door cracked and shattered in a million diamonds, bouncing on the floor and sticking to his sleeves. He patted them off and entered through the door, invading the empty veterinarian’s clinic.

He went into a room, where the surgeries occur and found some more oxygen gas tanks. Out of all twenty of them only six had not been wasted. He took them all. His tank was still full, but he took them. No more for the strays who would try to salvage for oxygen, the only thing left for them is the decaying flesh and bones of animals in cages in the next room. He took them, placed them in his retractable wagon, and pulled north.

He hears the faintest sound, but he hasn't faltered. He walked slowly now, his breathing smooth as water as his ears tried to pick up the source of the sound. It rolled on the ground. Heavy. Faraway. It didn't change pace.

Our man, who used to go by Sam Wilson, had continued on his way, squaring his shoulders as his jaw clenched beneath the mask, and for once, he had let his guard down. He trusted his heart over his gut — he let his eyes wander towards the ground because it felt right to do so. God, when was the last time Sam had relaxed? Swinging his arms as he hummed a tune— When was the last time he could touch the sky and feel free?

It was a car. Some Mercedes. A dark shade of green. It had a pop of silver on the hood, what used to be a logo now scratched off, but there was definitely a wing in there.

The passenger window rolled down when the car had matched Sam's pace. Sam didn't want to look, didn't want to disappoint himself and get shot again. He didn't want to let his hopes wander towards the heavens just so it can fall so fast like what happened to Lucifer. He didn't want to die, to have that sliver of mercy turn into a knife.

The man in the car was covered top to bottom in a black ensemble, what they used to call the Winter Soldier armor due to the uniqueness and durability. Sam didn't want his hopes to get too high, so he assumed that the stranger wanted to steal his wagon of oxygen tanks. The atmosphere is thinning so fast, it's incomprehensible; everybody would do anything to live.

Sam whiplashed, pulled out his knife from his thigh holster, twirling it in his fingers before pulling his elbow back — it all happened too fast, next thing Sam knew, the stranger had leaned back into the driver's seat as soon as the knife had lodged itself into the driver seat window, barely an inch away from the man.

The man laughed for a moment as if it was the most adorable thing he had witnessed. His breath hitched and his arms were crossed over his chest as if he actually believed that was where Sam was aiming for.

"Nice car." Sam spoke, his words deeply muffled by his mask, it almost sounded like another language, "I'm taking it."

The man had no time to react because, by the time he had regained his stature, Sam had reached in and unlocked the passenger door, swinging it open. Holding onto the side and door of the car, Sam lifted himself and swung both his feet towards the man's chest, successfully knocking the air out of him.

As the man had choked, Sam swung himself inside and closed the door shut, leaving his wagon outside. He sat on the passenger's seat, looking over at the wheezing man. Grabbing the man's right arm and locking it under his arm, Sam elbowed the man to the chest, throat, and nose, feeling the satisfying ringing pain shooting through his skin. Sam had worn elbow pads, decorated it with silver spikes even — poor man.

Sam had twisted the man's right arm — the man grunted like a trapped animal — and forced him to duck, and with a spare hand, he grabbed the man by the collar, slamming his face into the wheel, earning several short honks, not loud and long enough for anyone in the radius to hear.

The man heaved as Sam pulled him back, even caressing the back of the man's neck, letting the stranger have a few breaths of air for a moment. What a saint Sam was. Sam abruptly squeezed the man's neck, earning a satisfying whine. As Sam was reaching over for the knife lodged in the window, the man had uppercut him in the stomach, earning an alarming wheeze from our man. With a final tug from Sam and a punch by the man, they found themselves overcome with adrenaline.

Sam pulled the knife out of the window with a grunt, pushing the knife through the man's thigh with a terrifying shringggg, eliciting a muffled scream from him.

Sam pushed the man away from him and slid against the passenger door, heaving heavily, already afraid of how much oxygen he lost in the fight. His head felt light, and there's a ringing pain in his abdomen, one that urged him to caress it with a gentleness which his gloves contrasted.

The driver's seat door suddenly swung open and an arm had stuck in and dragged the stranger out of the car, rolling on the ground with a gurgled grunt. The stranger tried standing up despite his injured leg but the man had pulled the knife out of his shin, eliciting a garbled line of a shriek as he collapsed on the asphalt road.

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened up his own door, pulling in the oxygen tanks one by one as the new man continued to clean up the scene, wiping the knife and pocketed it in his holster. Sam had retracted back his wagon and pocketed it as he closed the door, the new man taking the last man's seat in the car, his eyes blanketed by his dark goggles.

The new driver shifted gear and removed the handbrake, stepping on the gas quite slowly to avoid the roar of the engine or the screeching of tires. This man spoke, his words muffled deeply, signing as he said, "Run over?"

Sam waved a hand, shaking his head, and there's a glint in his eyes as he glanced over to the man wearing a black ensemble just like his, but there's a filter mask instead, more sleek and functional, something the Winter Soldier armor couldn't have, the actual original one that belonged to Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes had joy in them as he looked over to Sam. The car moved for a few feet away from the grunting stranger, then Bucky shifted the gear to reverse, looking over at the rearview mirror until he deeply injured the man's legs. Bucky took his time in shifting back to drive, the car jumping a bit as they continued on with stealing the car.

"I didn't think you'd come," Sam signed with one hand, leaning his head against the closed window, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You were on the way to Las Vegas."

Bucky looked over to Sam for a moment before speaking, "Las Vegas may have currency but it doesn't have you."

Sam had to take a moment before figuring out what the man was saying, and when he did, he smiled under his mask, closing his eyes as it reached them. Groaning, Sam shook his head at that, Bucky laughing at the side as he maneuvered the car through the throes of wrecked cars and metal of the San Francisco streets.

The wreckage of the road, of course, only stretched the more the car rolled down the disaster of a scene. The afternoon sky was dull and settling as the winds whistled a low tune, but even then it was merely a delusion, merely a fictitious ensemble, something more of a mirage, a ploy to the senses. Decorating the asphalt road were small fires that were either already burning or had suddenly combusted out of nowhere, and other than this, the afternoon harsh sun rays were bouncing off of the reflective surfaces of dismantled cars, almost disfiguring the two men’s sight from the windshield.

It's almost like an ode to the old world, a painting dedicated to the world before downfall played into fate, something of a music piece played for the masses disguised as the Trojan horse. Our two men had sat in silence as this scenery passed by them, but all they felt was tension and war in their veins, their gazes as strong as liquor and they despised that — despised how much they could've gotten if nothing ever happened in the first place.

Bucky reached over to Sam quiet hesitantly, grabbing his attention with a slight tap. Sam's eyes glanced at Bucky's hand, watching the way Bucky signed, slowly, as if wanting Sam to take it all in, I'm sorry.

Sam spoke, but his words were chopped and deeply muffled, barely comprehensible, but Bucky knew what he was trying to say with the way Sam's eyebrows hardened, the quick tick of his jaw, and the softness in his ocher eyes. Sam's nervous, forgiving, I was okay without you.

Bucky's eyebrows relaxed, and he wanted so badly to remove his goggles but he knew he shouldn't, so he nodded, cleared his throat, and said: "You were always okay without me."

Sam nodded. They both knew. Sam was always fine on his own, but he felt that need for a companion and he adored Bucky's like Apollo's Icarus — like a scar down one's spine, one made out of love, ambition, and yearning.

"I wanted to be human. I wanted someone," Sam spoke, only signing it when he had gathered himself. He had set his head against the window, his breath shuddering as he added one last bit, "I wanted it to be you."

There's heat rising in Bucky's chest and all he could think of was how much Sam was attracted to it, but he's afraid he'd burn the angel because people like Bucky only ever did was hurt the most beautiful things in the world, but damnit, Sam wasn't beautiful.

People like Sam were ugly to the bone because they don't truly believe in peace and beauty. They've fought tooth and nail to accept fate with stardust in their eyes and that journey alone was frightening, murderous intent for all.

It's scary to think someone like Sam wasn't able to love because he was just so full of it.

"I want to love you," Bucky speaks, and they were soon going down a steep road. He moves methodically to drive them quietly. "I want to be with you too."

Sam signs, furiously, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes had a sadness in them Bucky couldn't pinpoint. "Then why did you leave?"

Bucky's hand flew to the clasps of his goggles, but then he stopped, realized what he was doing, and slowly set his hand back down on the steering wheel. Sam was watching the man with wide eyes, silent and nervous as if they were going to suddenly combust at any moment, and maybe they were with the way flames lick their skin as if hungry peasants — maybe they were those hungry peasants.

"To survive. Didn't realize that's an empty wish if I didn't find companionship — you, when I was already so far away." Bucky replied, and his voice was clear, a little murky, but Sam heard it all, even the man's heartbeat laced around the words. "I didn't want to live greedily, I wanted to live loved and to love."

Sam turned back to face the road, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes caught sight of the hood of the car. There were a million thoughts that ran through his head at the speed of light, but he wasn't baffled when these thoughts turned to plans, survival plans, plans with Bucky Barnes. His lip squirmed under the mask and it hurts to even smirk, but Sam's heart is so full of emotions he never thought he could feel again and it's euphoric.

Sunlight dances on grass and Sam could feel himself breathe freely again as if he was alive before the war. He could feel Bucky's flesh hand in his and there are the softness and toughness of skin he craved after the war. There were too many feelings in Sam's chest that made him weep, but he stayed stoic, stared out the windshield, his jaw hurting as he tried his best to stop his smile.

They were on flat ground and Sam made a sound Bucky thinks was laughter. Bucky's chest fluttered just like the first time he heard that laugh — before the war.

Sam's gloved fingers find their way grazing Bucky's jaw, only a fleeting feeling none of them could feel, but there's warmth in their chests as Sam cupped another hand around the man's cheek, their hearts singing in octaves as Apollo fell instead of Icarus; all backward love, they'll make it worth it.

Sam leaned into Bucky's face and their masks made a clicking sound when they met. This was the closest they could get to kissing, but it's not truly a love story if lips had to prove it. Don't you hear the world still just for them?

Sam stared at the goggles, thinking he could see Bucky's eyes flutter close, fighting to keep them open. Sighing, Sam closed his eyes to take at the moment, the new normal they can have.

Letting go, Sam leaned back into his seat, saying, signing, "We just stole S.H.I.E.L.D. property."

There's a trace of a grin on Bucky's words when he said, "What bastards. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sam turned to Bucky, and they share a sound similar to a laugh.

"As always."

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #sam wilson sundays #france: writing #france: works

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bang-fantansies · 3 years

Text

Sasaeng BTS Profiles: Yoongi Edition

Warning: Heavy mentions/implications of suicide, mentions/implications of overdosing on medication, insomnia, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive behaviour, poor mental health, self-denefse killing, homelessness, nightmares, mention/implications of side-character being drunk, death, blood, gore, destruction of evidence, crime, profanity.

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Mental Stability: 3/10

2:50 AM.

As was the same battle every night, Yoongi lay in bed, the whole world sleeping apart from him. He couldn’t help it, of course - believe me, he would if he could - and this was what made the thoughts in his head run wild.

Each thought had a voice, all unique to their varying degrees of uselessness, yet the message they chanted was identical.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they cried. They’d grown louder over the years as Yoongi’s insomnia worsened, and in spite of their efforts to help their master, they did the complete opposite.

That dream - red and monstrous - drowned out any measure of volume the voices could hope to muster.

The sound of a man gargling with his own blood made Yoongi feel as if he was suffocating, and more often than not he’d jolt up in bed, forced to replay the events of his early adult years.

Before finding his current residence, Yoongi had been forced onto the streets by unjust circumstances, leading to a great deal of situations he’d rather keep buried beneath the layers of his memory.

One such situation involved another homeless man - drunk, Yoongi had assumed - competing with Yoongi for a bottle of liquor he had scored.

Yoongi’s only use for such a thing was to sell it off and use the money to find a cheap room and a meal. But his opponent had refused to accept such nonsense.

“Such fine wine shouldn’t go to waste!” Yoongi could still hear him say, voice ringing in his ears.

“And it won’t if you just let me pass, you stupid old prick.”

In short, the drunkard had taken Yoongi’s tone very personally and caused his own demise by making a haphazard attempt on the younger’s life, resulting in having the bottle of wine he oh-so desired slammed into the side of his head, shattering and giving Yoongi a sharp enough tool to puncture his throat with.

Yoongi fled the scene not long after, keeping the remains of the bottle to hand until he could destroy the evidence later on.

Nowadays, while he was far from sleeping rough, he hardly slept at all for fear of his actions whispering cruel and dark remarks into his ear.

As it would for most, this took its toll on Yoongi’s health; physical, emotional, and mental.

The pressure had proven to be too much for him to handle, and on this night, he had decided he’d had enough.

On his computer desk stood a bottle, a proud shade of orange with its contents revealed in a cluster of black ink, made to resemble actual handwriting, written across a label stuck to its front - the only semblance of privacy Yoongi was allowed. Its white cap was ajar, and though no scent came from within, Yoongi could practically smell the prescription enticing him to a snack.

And under normal circumstances, he would have declined as he had many a time before.

But these were no longer normal circumstances.

Yoongi rose from beneath the bed sheets, any semblance of humanity he’s once held having burnt out alongside his will to continue.

He knew what it meant to live - to love the act of being human - but he was no longer human. He most similarly resembled a shell; cold, hollow, and filled with the shadows of his own mind.

And so he had made his decision. Despite his lethargy shackling him to the bed, he made a reach for the bottle, popping off the cap and peering inside.

A glass of water sat on his bedside table, bubbles sticking to the water-covered walls as a result of disuse.

Yoongi counted the pills, assuming that the amount he was left with would be enough.

At this point, he figured that if he was to find no rest in life, he would surely find it in whatever lay beyond his broken, mortal body.

In these last moments, Yoongi granted himself his last comfort.

He brought his laptop beside him and searched his favourite artist on YouTube.

He only had a few artists in his arsenal that he could dispense at family dinners or reunions he’d been invited to.

he never was an adept conversationalist: even at friends’ parties where a guest he didn’t know would be obligated to talk to him on account of appeasing the birthday girl or boy.

For a second, Yoongi faltered.

His mind backtracked to the joy he’d felt with his friends, and in turn the joy he had granted them.

Was he really going through with this...?

A stab of doubt was all it would take to make Yoongi withdraw from his initial intentions, and he cut the tie with said doubt immediately, pushing his friends to the back of his mind.

He was exhausted - tired of helping and appealing to others; now it was time to take care of himself.

From the tiny speaker in his laptop came the sound of solace: his favourite track from his idol.

He lay back, pill bottle and water placed on his bedside table as he basked in his last melody.

Through the duration of the song, Yoongi’s unease had worn away - eroded by the tides of his own resolution.

The song eventually clambered to a fading finish. Yoongi knew what came next.

He sat up and tipped the contents of the bottle onto the table, a hill of oddly-coloured tablets forming.

He threw the bottle somewhere behind him, hearing it land in a hidden corner of the room.

Pale hands scooped the pills up like candy, bringing them to Yoongi’s lips.

And like a saving grace emerging through a storm, a miracle unfolded.

A soft sound played beside him; the sound of angel wings and promises of a better future.

Yoongi didn’t so much as falter as he did pause, lending his ear to the tune.

It played notes from an instrument Yoongi didn’t even think existed - a soft twinkling stalked by a voice he had yet to have heard on his musical voyages through Soundcloud and YouTube.

For a second - just a second - the doubt that had made such a ruckus to enter had now slithered through the back door of Yoongi’s mind.

What was this music?

Reluctant, he lowered his hand to his side, though held tightly on to the pills.

Turning the screen to face him, he came face-to-face with someone other than his idol.

Her eyes looked a soft shade of (e/c) in the no-doubt filtered lighting of the video, though the sincerity she held within them was far from fabricated.

The background was crystalline - faux crystal props - oversized and oversaturated. They were littered around the studio in which the woman sang, and beneath a purple hue she sat on a stool, an air of comfort radiating from her.

As to what she was singing, Yoongi had no idea.

He let the music play for a moment, considering his options.

What harm would it do him to listen to something new? It wasn’t as if he’d be able to after he was gone, anyway.

Lying back down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling, the lack of light or patterns making it easier for him to focus solely on the music.

His fatigue embraced him like a long-lost mother, shrouding him in a warmth unmatched by that of any real person.

The singer’s soft humming filled the desolate room. And if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He forced a bitter smile, doubtful that his mind would actually allow him any such solace as sleep.

To humour his weary self one last time, Yoongi shut his eyes, sighing deeply and sinking into the mattress.

The next time Yoongi opened his eyes, his room was still dark. And as if it had never left to begin with, his bitter smile returned.

I knew it, he thought. Though the victory of beating his already hell-level expectations filled his overflowing spirit with grief, disguised and diluted by the anger that had slipped into the mix so long ago.

Sitting up, Yoongi lent his ear to the room once more.

He could hear the soft hum of the woman’s song no longer, and it was in this second that he realised he didn’t remember actually hearing the song end.

It was on one minute, and off the next.

Suspicious, Yoongi glanced at his half-lidded laptop, faced with a blackened screen as the device had switched itself off.

With a push of the power button, the power returned, and in a blast of light the screen sprung to life.

Through the tips of his fringe, Yoongi checked the time.

11:15 AM.

He recoiled.

That couldn’t be right - surely.

Logging in, he noted how his battery was running low, despite having been fully charged before he lay down.

The screen gave way to the last application he’s been using, and clear as day the same starry-eyed woman with the voice of velvet was on-screen, though the video she was in had long since ended.

Yoongi checked the time again, pulling his fringe back so as not to trick himself a second time.

11:16 stared back at him, steadfast and unwavering in its absolution.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in a sense of alarm.

He rose from the bed, tearing his curtains open.

A cityscape greeted him, and the sun waved from its fixture in the sky. It was daytime.

Yoongi stumbled back, carding a hand through his hair.

There was absolutely no way he’d-

...Had he actually managed to get to sleep?

Yoongi checked his phone, watch, and alarm clock; no-one dared deceive him of date nor time.

He was willing (and already considering) to accept the idea that he’d time-traveled; the concept of having a decent night’s sleep was as foreign as a language to him.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t the time to dawdle in such a concept, though he made absolute certain to when he was at work.

His colleagues seemed to notice a change in Yoongi’s behaviour.

Though he was often dazed into bouts of silence by his exhaustion, this quietude was new. Different.

A few co-workers commented on how he looked much livelier. And more alive, he felt.

In spite of this, the constant what-ifs of the morning had followed him - clung to him like a cologne.

What if...what if he was actually dead?

He considered this, deciding against his theory.

If he was dead and this was indeed Heaven, he should be receiving a lot more good fortune for all the shit he had to deal with in his life.

No, this was neither Hesven nor Hell. Or Purgatory.

Yoongi also considered that he was in a coma, but that didn’t add up, either.

He tested to see if he was comatose. Nothing.

He was still trapped in his same-old reality. But at least he could think clearly now.

By the time he got home, his body yearned for the sweet release of music, and he sought the comfort of his favourite artist - as he usually did on days as long as this.

Shoving his bedroom door open, he grumbled at the brightness the room held for a change.

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains before he left.

In the dwindling light of the afternoon sun, he saw the pills scattered across his duvet, the sole remnants of his almost-actions.

He cringed, forcing them to the back of his mind.

He could acknowledge the gravity of his decision later. Right now, his head was filled with the phantom melodies longing for a vessel.

Yoongi has attained the good sense to charge his laptop, and as he switched it on, he was greeted with the same lady who had pulled him to sleep the night before.

Or, Yoongi supposed, who had just happened to be playing on the night he was finally able to sleep without the nightmare scaring him awake.

Such wonderment remained at the back of his mind as he went about his business.

Through his own music, the whisper of the lady’s tune plagued him. So much so that, after a good three hours of composing, Yoongi found himself eyeing the tab he’d left open from before.

Having returned home from work later, his body was weighted with the day’s contrivances and stresses, as well as its successes and joys.

Emotionally, Yoongi had given all he had to offer, which, if he was to admit it to himself, was far more than he usually did.

He considered that it was more than likely it wasn’t just the song that had sent him to sleep.

On the contrary, he believed that a multitude of factors had to have been at play in such a miracle.

He wished to replicate the conditions of the night before: he kept his room dark and a glass of water on his bedside. He packed his pills away and placed them on his bedside, too, taking care not to lose any in case their service was required again.

He set the woman’s song up, lying in bed and playing it.

The creeping horror of the notion of never obtaining such a quality of sleep again was the only odd variable in this equation, and though it quietly consumed Yoongi’s thoughts, the hum of the song muffled it.

The song was no longer than 4 minutes, though the eternity that stretched between Yoongi and his voyage to the fabled land of dreams made it impossible to tell how long it had been.

He was not yet familiar enough with the song to place a time on the segment he was experiencing.

His concerns faded as he simply let himself be.

If it works, it works, he told himself.

The next thing Yoongi remembered was hearing a bird chirping nearby his window.

He cracked an eye open.

Much like the night before, his room remained in a state of quiet disarray, though only noticeable to the trained eye.

His laptop lay near his side, screen dark and lifeless.

Yoongi checked through a crack in the curtains. And sure as anything, the sun had risen once again.

Over the next couple of weeks, Yoongi researched the song, its creator, and whether it was really the secret to staving off his insomnia.

He had discovered that the creator’s name was (Y/N) - a popular artist who had fans far and wide, as well as domestically.

He found more of her particular songs - the ones that she hummed.

He tested both the original and these humming bird songs (as he called them), and to his delight, the humming birds worked.

Yoongi would go to sleep and wake up at reasonable times, rather than the odd dips in and out of consciousness he would try to induce on his own terms.

It was just your music that soothed him so, and from the day he uncovered this, he vowed to be your loyal follower.

Though, with any influential fan can blossom obsession, and as Yoongi became ever more eneamoured with your gossamer vocals, he feared the day that your songs would no longer support his sleep.

Or, God forbid, you stopped singing.

He often fretted over such a premature worry, though he couldn’t deny how it had all but devoured his thoughts.

Months into his expedition into your music, he decided to finally take action to ensure that your voice would never die - never fade with age, accident or abuse.

No, he would preserve it like the fine wine he had failed to so many years ago - to be sipped and savoured for eternities to come.

Sasaeng Masterlist

#yandere bts #bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #Yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader

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danddymaro · 3 years

Text

No Regrets | Loki x Reader

Set during Endgame // After time travel

Takes place in NY 2012 After Loki’s capture.

Includes flashbacks

fluff within angst

A/N: I’d been having this idea in mind for a fat minute, and NEED to share it.

Flashbacks are in italics : Example

Thoughts are italics in quotes : ‘Example’

Word Count : 3683

No Regrets

"In and out," (f/n) thought to herself, walking along the corridor, the plan in mind being to retrieve the tesseract and return home.

'Rogers said he's got a plan for the scepter, so it's up to us to somehow get the other piece while it's still on earth... which, of course, is planted right in between a crowd of highly skilled, superpowered people,' She thought flatly, her eyes falling onto the walking Avengers.

'Well, at least, at this point in time, no one knows who I am,' She thought with confidence, certain it was to her advantage, ' so I should be able to maneuver easier than anyone else,' she added, flattening down her suit, hoping she blended in with the rest of Stark's employees.

' Here we go,' She then added, ready to make her way closer, but there was just one thing that stopped her.

As she caught sight of him, she couldn't help but take a pause, and before she could help it, the single glance that was sent his way turned into a true, dedicated stare that lasted longer than it should have.

He then turned to her, letting his blue-hued eyes land on hers, and at that, she couldn't help but let a few tears slip.

' The sight of you this way, it's unbearable.' She thought with lament, hurt while having to see him restrained. His mouth was sealed, the lower portion of his face muzzled like an unruly, vicious creature, and the very sight hit her hard.

' And that lifeless color aqua that has taken over the sweet green gaze... if I'm not mistaken, that must be a sign of his control,' she concluded, knowing it was all connected.

'I wonder...has anyone bothered to see? Has anyone realized? ' She wondered,

' Thor, have you bothered to look into your brother's eyes?' She thought with disapproval, though, knowing that either way, the blame would land upon the younger's.

'Damned if you do. Damned if you don't, right?' She thought with a shake to her head, already aware of how many of his experiences ended.

'At least...With that scepter far from you, those dark thoughts that monster implanted in you have slowly washed away.' She added with approval.

'-Now, In and out. The scepter and the tesseract both, all in one swoop.' She thought to herself, reminding herself of the true objective, having to will herself from staring at him any longer.

Loki tilted his head to the side, quietly watching as the woman turned from him, (e/c) colored eyes shying from him as she hid her face in a way that seemed shamed, as though there was a secret she harbored, and it truly piqued interest in him.

A loud commotion then erupted and through the strange chaos, he took his moment of leave, escaping with the tesseract in hand, a mystical, soft blue cloud swallowing him, dispersing once he was out of sight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

'That was a complete disaster,' She mused with a little scoff, having watched the entire scene unfold, momentarily shaking her head at the replay in her mind.

"And of course, you took advantage," She hummed, unable to hold any grudge against the man as he did what came naturally to him,

"- it's just like you," She breathed with adoration.

' Get far away from here,' She inwardly pleaded,

'Find somewhere that’s out of his grasp. ' She begged while slowly walking away, choosing to find an emptier area where no one could witness her departure.

She planned to leave without a witness, but as she moved, she didn't notice the quiet steps that shadowed hers, not having anticipated it in the least bit.

"- As I left, I couldn't help but have one nagging thought in mind," She heard a familiar voice speak, and it made her last step come to a stumbled stop.

'- Leave,' Her better senses instructed, 'Don’t stop,' She told herself.

'You can do it now...Right in this instant, and he won't ever know.' she reasoned.

'You don't know me.

I don't know the you, you are now. ‘ She silently told him.

‘ We're nothing but strangers, so, there's nothing to say.' She tried to convince herself.

'But.' she then added, ' Would it be so bad if I just turn to you one last time?

Would it change anything?

If I could just see you one last time... right here...so near...' she trailed off before biting her lower lip in contemplation.

'Just one last time,' she declared, her fingers slipping beneath her blazer's sleeve, finding the button she needed to activate the suit, and immediately escape.

'One last glance, and then...we won't ever see each other again,' She thought with a soft sniffle, willing to indulge herself one final time.

Slowly, she turned to him, entertaining her heart with the request before she went back.

She promised herself that she’d leave right then and there, but she hesitated.

As her eyes landed on his full figure, she stopped, once again staring with the same melancholic (e/c) colored eyes that held everything from sadness and grief to adoration and tender devotion.

He was as beautiful as always, a sight her eyes would draw to, and now refused to tear from.

'...I'm a horrible person.' She said to herself, 'Because I didn't come for the tesseract.

I didn't come for everyone else,

I came for me.

- Just to see you.' She admitted with shame.

Taking advantage of her current state, he moved quicker than she could react, reaching out to her with his right hand, "it'll take just a moment," He told her, not wanting to waste time in idle talk, having his own method of finding her truths.

“I just have to know what you’re hiding,” he let her know, the unrelenting curiosity he had coming from a place he couldn’t name.

To his surprise, he watched as nearly every thought she held dear had him as the center.

Furthermore, throughout it all, he saw himself under elegant lighting, one that was filtered through a gaze that always found him fascinating.

"My king..." She said while reached up to him, her hand sweetly grazing his cheek, both the touch and address rousing a little chuckle from him,

"King?" He breathed. "You've never called me that before," He added, soon leaning down to her, a dazzling smile on display. "...could it be that you’re teasing me?" he mused, touching her so sweetly it was as though she were made of glass.

she lightly shook her head in denial before she spoke, "- It's because until now, I've never felt so sure," she started, briefly closing her eyes, relishing in the warmth of his palm,

'Of this feeling...

Of you...' she thought as she marveled at his perfect image.

"- Of how precious you are to me," She then added while ascending, looking up at him with eyes that were so close to tearing she had to blink away the light glistening sheet that lay over her (e/c) colored eyes.

"You mean everything to me," She revealed to him, and as she said that, he held in a breath, his eyes fluttering close as she came even closer.

A little peck then landed on the tip of his nose, soon bringing him out of his spellbound state, and realizing she'd purposely missed, he pouted,

"-This, here is teasing," She giggled, not missing an opportunity to play with him, soon taking a little step back before she ran from him.

'Chase me...

catch me...

Kiss me...

Play with me...

Show me a love that I've never had before,' She thought with happiness she never wanted to end.

'This is like a fairytale,' She then added, running through the lovely, blossom riddled field he'd brought her to, 'And everywhere feels like home when I'm with you,' She proceeded, not knowing anything of his realm, but feeling so safe and joyous that she felt like she belonged.

'I love you.' she thought as she tackled her down. 'I love you.' She continued to think as she laughed, the kisses that trailed down her neck tickling her so much she couldn't help but let the squeals escape as she tried to resist him, squirming.

'I love you.

I love this.

I love us.

I don't ever want this to end.'

He looked right at the woman as her tears spilled, his eyes wide as he witnessed the sorrow that came forth from reliving through such a lovely memory.

"Please don't..." She begged him, because the only way to view the memories was to make her relive through every moment.

- But determined, he continued to dig through, wanting to know why she had memories he never recalled, and much more, why they haunted her so much.

He stood before her, the bloodied colored orbs that peered down at her holding a shine to them that seemed vulnerable and sweet, all in spite of the wicked color.

She bit her lip, not knowing where to start, or even how to touch him.

"Ah," He said softly, I see you find it unsightly," he huffed.

"No. You’re beautiful," She breathed, her hands both shaking as she went to touch him, "I just...you just look so beautiful," She admitted, nervously speaking.

"Am I even allowed to..?" She asked him, her palms still hovering above his chest, the sweet warmth that radiated from the flesh forcing a shuttered breath from him as he was anxious to feel her.

"Darling," he said while taking hold of her two wrists, the grasp he held her with being so kind and sweet, she felt delicate and treasured.

"I am yours, whether it be this form or the other, you should never hesitate to touch me," He told her, and at that, she brought her palms to his naked torso, the ridges of his skin that lay over his indigo flesh feeling strange, yet welcoming.

Lightly trailing the lines, she swallowed hard, "Don't change back...for now... stay this way," She pleaded him. "Let me love you this way," She said while trailing her hands up to his face, the kisses that followed being so loving and tender that he lost himself in them, and only a low hum was his response back to her.

'The question is....how does it all end?' He asked himself, knowing it was painful.

'If we were a walking pair, then where is your other half?' he wondered.

"Do you ever regret giving yourself to me?" He asked her, his eyes looking out into the vast space, "like now...do you begin to wonder what your life would have been if we would have simply walked past each other?" He continued.

"Of all the realms.

Of all the various worlds that exist, (f/n), don't you ever wish you would have fallen for someone else? " He asked her, not having it in him to look at her as he asked the question, because there existed a part of him that regretted it all, knowing that she would have lived through fewer struggles.

Asgard was destroyed, the place he promised would be thier home was gone, and only then did he really take into account the various compromises she'd made.

" I took you from your home. I promised you a better life.

I swore to you that we'd one day live a peaceful life." He went on. "But instead, you've gone from hiding to fleeting. You've shadowed my every move, and not once have I bothered to ask you if you're fine with it.

- Not once have I bothered to tell if the one person I say I love most is truly happy," He said while reflecting upon every moment that followed after he took her from Midgard.

"And now, watching the remains of my home be destroyed, I begin to wonder if...

If once this is all over, you'd want to go back home, pick up from where you left off...

Find yourself -"

Shaking her head, she took hold of his hand, her head leaning to his arm, not waiting for him to finish the line,

'You can't be serious,' she thought while releasing a tired, little sigh that turned light right towards the end.

Together, they looked out into the darkness that held various stars and planets, things she could have never imagined viewing from such a range.

"- No one else has brought me this close to the stars," She said with a little smile, one that became contagious, and after he huffed out a little chuckle, he hung his head, the man seeming defeated.

And for just a moment, they lived through silence, one that was broken as he uttered her name,

"(f/n)," he said then lowly, soon holding a serious tone that was proceeded by a long breath, "I'm serious..." He told her.

"Me too," She answered back, her grasp going tighter, "I'm serious: I don't regret it. Not a thing. " She said with confidence.

She then tugged his hand, turning to face him, and as he did the same she shook her head, despising the sullen look he wore.

"I'm not helpless," She started. " I could have gone back at any point," She told him as her other hand moved to lift his chin, her index curved into a little hook as she untucked the point from his chest,

"If I wanted to, I would have fought you the entire way," She assured him, having to remind him that she wasn't as sweet as she looked.

"I would have found a way to escape you, But instead, I followed my king wherever he went.

Instead, I chose to follow you into every little mess you created, because it's all worth it if I can stay with you." She admitted.

"You're here, " she said while tapping her chest, knocking over her heart's home, "I feel you here," she chimed.

"Before you, I'd lived such a small and meaningless life," she told him. "I felt like I was nothing." She admitted. " Every day was like the one before, and every one that would come up next would hold the same ordinary routine." She then went on, " And I felt like I was missing something, but I just didn't know what," she said while looking into the special piece that made her life worth it all.

'You're worth it all, ' She added, sure that he was worth leaving everything behind.

"Loki, I haven't lived as long as you, and I know that I won't get to reach an age that passes yours," She said with little amusement, "But ... that just means I'll get to live the rest of my life with you," She said while smiling,

"And that's all I want," she told him. "That's all I'll need. Just you."

At the mention, he seemed to deflate, because after all, she was only human,

- just human.

Despite her powers, when it came down to it, she was just a mortal, and he despised the reality of it.

"- I hope I go before you do," He said to her, and at that, she felt her heart clench, "Don't you dare," She sniffled, the mere mention bringing forth tears,

"Don't you ever leave me behind," she said in a small, broken voice. "Just take me with you," she then said, hiccupping, trying to laugh through the bitterness.

'I know this is all talk...but for some reason, it rattles me,' She thought to herself,

'just...whatever you do...don't leave me behind.

I'll go where you go.

Up to space, high above the rest of the worlds, or deep, down... way below everything else that exists...into the endless darkness.'

"If you love me...if you really love me...you won't leave me behind," She told him.

Rather than say more, he pulled her to him, kissing her wholeheartedly, not knowing what else he could say, because he could never bring himself to do such a thing.

'If I can help it, I will make sure your unscathed.

if it's possible, I'll just send you back home, use my last bit of strength to hide you, tuck you away, where you will never find the same end.' He thought to himself.

"Don't tell me..." Loki said with a low murmur, glaring down at her with darkness that shadowed over the pain he felt, realizing he was soon coming to the end of their tale,

"- I guess...I just don't love you enough," Loki said before he kissed her, smothering her with one last kiss before he shoved her out into the dark space, and as did so, she was enveloped by a bright light, the same one she'd gone through when she traveled with him to Asgard,

" NO! NO! NO!" She cried out to him, trying to reach out to him, straining her arm to take hold of him as she was pulled away. Soon after, she desperately clawed at the air, trying to find a way back, even while knowing that she had no control over it.

"Loki! Don't do this to me!" She cried out, her voice raw with the strength behind each howl.

"Please..." she choked out, feeling her heartstrings slowly being pulled apart, forcibly snapped.

And as he watched her go, he felt relief, knowing that she was far from the wreckage, sent back home, joining the rest of the Asgardians that had fleeted.

'Thank you Heimdall,' He thought in silence, having to hold back the grave face that threatened to take over as he watched him take his last breath.

' (f/n), If somehow...I make it back to you, then I hope you forgive me so I can bring to you the new start you deserve.

But If I may perish today,

Despise me my darling, do so, and let the love we had be forgotten. Let my memory be of a man so selfish, that he could not grant you what you most desired.

Dedication.

Promise.

Love.

I really am wicked, aren’t I?' He thought to himself, having heard her cries, but doing nothing to calm them.

After that, there was only a muted silence, a heavy weight that anchored him as he saw the world through her eyes,

'So, why are you here?' He asked himself again, watching the moment that brought them to where they were now.

He witnessed their plan and throughout it all, he felt her true intentions, understanding it all.

She then shoved him away, finally breaking from his spell, but by then, she'd let him know everything he wanted.

"-Mission a failure," She heard tony grumble through the communicator, and she nodded, already knowing why, seeing as the object they'd come for was now in possession of the dark-haired prince.

'it's not in me to fight you.' She told herself. 'it's not in me to hurt you...

But it's in me to let you go, hoping you find happiness that doesn't end in tragedy.

And if that means far from me...Then I’ll take it. '

"Yeah," She responded before taking a long breath, realizing that now, she had no choice but to go back, but before she did, she had something in her chest that had to be let loose,

"I still don't regret any of it," She told him, truly meaning it.

'I meant every word,' She silently swore while mustering a bittersweet smile.

Her heart ached terribly, and she was so close to collapsing in misery, yet, all the same, she regretted not a minute of those sweet memories.

'Suffering this much...it just means the happiness I had was true.'

"It hurts," She admitted, "But I'd do it all over again," She told him, " I'd go through an endless loop.

I'd do it again... with you," She told him.

Slowly approaching her again, he then stood before her, 'Throughout it all... I came to a point where I could hardly recognize myself,' he mused, being quick to cradle her cheek, the touch melting her in a way that made him pull up a smile that held fondness, as though he'd known her all his life.

'I saw a man that was certain. I saw one who felt fulfillment everywhere he went, only because you were at his side.

...Ah, So this is what I become,' He mused, '...This is what we come to be, together,' He then added.

"- Me too," He told her.

'During your time, I lived a joy unimaginable,

You brought me to such bliss...that everything I've felt I'd wanted before now feels insignificant.'

"- Everything will change," She informed him, knowing that now the mess they created in the past would bring forth a new reality,

'You'll have another life, and you'll choose another path that takes you far from me...and then we'll -'

"We'll remain a constant," he promised her, disrupting her train of thought.

The oath made her smile, a choked sound traveling from the back of her throat that morphed into a sweet chuckle.

'You'd do that?' She wondered. 'you have another chance, another choice, but you'd still go back to me?'

During then his arms were quick to wrap around her, holding her so tightly she couldn't budge.

“Thank you,” He breathed, holding every moment dear.

the familiar feeling of his arms around her brought her a peace she thought she could never live through again, and the serenity only doubled as his lips brushed hers, soon melting into a true kiss.

'through this life and the next.

In this timeline and mine... and just about every other...'

"Loki...I love you. I always will," She swore as she parted from him.

"I know, “ He mused, not needing to be told, because he’d seen it all. He’d been witness to it all.

“ And wherever you are now, I'll find you." He assured her, gracing her with a sincere smile, one that lasted until she left, going back to her own time.

Afterward, he did the same, leaving, searching for his missing half.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I had so many routes I wanted to take!!!

Part of me wanted to bring him back with the reader to her time.

However, another part of me wanted to let her stay with him instead, but then I thought about the poor gal stuck in thier time who would never get to live the loveliness of having this man.

After all the thought, we ended up with this- With them going thier separate paths.

Most of it had to do with past (f/n), and the fact that all in all, Avengers Loki isn’t Ragnarok / endgame Loki.

I love him so much, but Ragnarok / endgame Loki has come to a point where he has my everything, he’s so elegant and beautiful.

And he’s come through such a long path...And developed so much.

- Don’t get me started. He’s not the same person...

I don’t know how to explain it.

Maybe it’s the long floofy hair, lol.

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inessencedevided · 3 years

Text

(You can find the set that this gif belongs to here 💙)

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES: When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours

I was tagged by @aheartfullofjolllly. thank you so much Pat! it was really fun to reflect about my own process 💗 You can find her post here and @lan-xichens' post that started it all here :)

Also thank you @huigusu 🥰 (who tagged me for my nie brothers set) I'll get to that one in a few days!

Now Pat gave me two sets to chose from to show my process, so obviously I chose the more complicated one :P

I only work in Photoshop CC 2018. I know that there are programs out there for easier cutting and sharpening but I have only just figured out how to do that in PS and I am too lazy to figure out any other programs right now xD

1. Idea and Planning

This set, like most of my sets with lyrics started with me reading the poem, clutching my heart and going "oh shit this fits my favourite characters!!". The idea actually started with me thinking that the first stanza of the poem would go really well with wwx during the burial mounds arc. Then I realized that the last stanza fits lwj better than him and from there came the idea to contrast the both of them next to each other. This is when I realized I wanted to do a dark-light contrast set, though I did not know that I would go with red and blue at that time. My idea in the beginning was just to do a black and white set

I was really impressed by how Pat said that she plans her sets around exact timestamps. Because I don't do that at all ^^ I just get ideas for which scenes would fit (in this case the wwx burial mounds scenes and lwj's kneeling and punishments scene) and then I watch the scenes to narrow them down.

Back when I made this set, I still used a screenrecorder (AceThinker Screen Grabber Pro to be precise. They have a test version that allows you to record up to 3 minutes) and recorded the scenes I needed from Netflix. This worked well enough but now I have the entire show saved on an external drive and it makes a world of difference when it comes to gif sharpness

Now, in this case I had to repeat this step once because when I was almost finished, I realized that I wanted a gif for the lwj corner but let's pretend I didn't do that and that's the way this gif was always going to look because otherwise this post will be way too long ^^

2. Creation

Short disclaimer: The creation process for this gifset was anything but linear. Multiple effects I used here were things I had never tried before. I just had a vague idea and tried to realize it through trial and error. So whenever I say "then I did xyz", it is implied that I ultimately went back to that step several times and changed stuff ^^

I started with the Wei Wuxian part of the gif. I usually use a frame rate of 0,06 (with some variation depending on gif length and size). I work in timeline so I converted all the layers to a smart layer. Then I resized the gif into a square, leaving big chunks of the gif empty (as can be seen below.) I flipped the gif horizontally, so he is looking inwards. This was simple because I felt it fitted the composition better. Then I imported the Lan Wangji part of the gif, again with a frame rate of 0,06. (Image 2)

After that I created a layer for masking in a separate PS document by rotating a square until it was point down (is that a rhombus?). I sized it to match my gif (540x540 pxl) and copied it over. (Image 3) a bit of masking magic and ta da! There's the basic layout (Image 4)

I put a layer of solid black behind wwx to get rid of the transparent bits (Image 5) and then started adding more white and black to both sides by adding solid whit and black layers that i put masks on and changed the opacity as i needed (Image 6)

("reading" direction: from the upper left to the lower right corner)

Then I fiddled with the colours a bit. The first thing I always do is using the curves layer to get more contrast. Then I use the colour balance tool and the selective colouring tool to get rid of that cql-typical cyan tint after that it's just trying to have it look "natural" while the colours still fit the overall scheme. This was difficult here because wei Wuxian’s side of the gif was very dark and when i turned up the saturation to see which colour dominated it was a very weird mixture of multiple colours. That's when i decided that I'd just go with red on his side, since lwj's side was already so blue and those to look great as contrasts.

After that just came a lot of fiddling with selective colour layers and brightness and contrast unti I has happy. There really wasn't much to it ^^. (Image 1)

After that I added the text. I knew I wanted the two lines to for a square of some kind. So I tried different fonds until I arrived at the one below. The two lines are in seperate layers so I could move them around and change the spacing between the letters until I was happy with the layout. I also changed the layer mode for the text to "difference" (is that what it's called in english? my PS is set to german sorry ^^), keeping their colour white. (Image 2)

I originally hadn't planned adding anything else but I felt like the gifs (plural because I switched between the gifs of this set) was still kind of empty and lacking, so I added the tear down the middle (a tutorial for that is either coming up later or already posted. I recently got an ask for this :)) (Image 3)

It still felt empty after that, so I tried different overlays. Okay no, first I wasted a lot of time on different free image sides but then I tried out different ones until I chose the one you can see in the finished gif. I liked that one because a) I felt the round shape was a nice contrast to all the straight lines already there and b) because once I applied a black and white filter to it and switched the layer setting to "difference" (again, i hope this is the correct translation) it looked a bit like a moon. (Gif at the top)

("reading" direction: from left to right)

And that's it! :)

Although in general, these gifs took so much fiddling! I went back and forth between them a lot and sometimes almost redid the entire thing because I had no idea what I was doing in the beginning and by the time I noticed an error, the only way to fix it was ti redo everything. So yeah, this set definitely is the the one that took me the longest out of all the ones I've posted so far.

3. Posting

I save all my gifs to my drafts first to see what they look like put together and to check if they look any different on mobile. Usually i do this several times and change stuff until I'm happd enough with it to hit post. Once i am happy enough, i can't hold back. Doesn't matter if it's at a time when nobody is online, i hit post 😅

And that's it!

Tagging:

@lanwuxiann for this gifset (I adore it so much. I've looked at it and read it severat times since you posted it and the poem just kills me every time!)

@suibianjie for this gifset (The combination of static images and gifs in your gifs is always absolutely perfect! This one is only my favourite of yours because the light coming from behind wwx is just so pretty!!! ^^)

@sweetlittlevampire for this piece (It was soooo hard to pick a piece of yours because I have so many favourites! But this one is just so out if this world, I want to know how you worked that magic :D)

@wei-gege for this set (sparkling shijie! 😭 that set is so incredibly beautiful! I love how you matched the colour of the overlay with her dress!)

@purplexedhuman for this set (your gifs are always incredible! I chise this one because it showcases both your colouring skills and some really intricate effects)

If any of you have already been tagged or don't have the time or energy for this, obviously no pressure to do this at all! 🥰

(btw, I originally tried to place the actual text of this under a "read more" cut but somehow it always messed with the order of the images, so this ended up as a rather long post. sorry!)

#showyourprocess #tag game #the untamed #sophie rambles #long post

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