#explosion proof torch light

[sharpeagle-tech]

The Productivity Benefits Of Explosion-proof Light

In the high-stakes world of industrial production, effective lighting is not a luxury, but a necessity.

Adequate lighting can prevent accidents and injuries by ensuring workers can see what they're doing. This is particularly important in areas with heavy machinery and poor visibility, such as basements or warehouses.

Industrial lighting can also deter criminal activity by making it effortless for security personnel to see what's happening on the premises.

If you are a business owner or a facility manager, you need to evaluate the lighting in the workplace to make changes and upgrades as necessary to ensure that all areas are adequately illuminated.

Industrial Grade Lighting: Powering the Production Line

Industrial-grade lighting is a type of lighting that is specifically designed for use in industrial environments. These hazardous area lights are built to withstand the harsh conditions and demands of industrial settings, such as factories, warehouses, and other manufacturing facilities.

One of the main applications of industrial-grade lighting is in warehouses and distribution centers. These facilities often have high ceilings and large open spaces, making it difficult to provide adequate lighting. Industrial-grade lights, such as high-bay  lights, are designed to provide bright and even illumination over large areas, making it easier for workers to see and move around the facility safely.

Another common application of industrial-grade lighting is in manufacturing facilities. These facilities often have various lighting needs, including task lighting for specific areas, such as assembly lines, and general lighting for the entire facility. Hazardous area lights are designed to withstand heat, vibration, and other conditions in manufacturing environments, making them well-suited for these facilities.

Industrial-grade lighting is also commonly used in mining, oil and gas, and other heavy-industrial facilities. These facilities typically have extreme temperatures and harsh environments and require lighting that can withstand these conditions.

Other Applications:

- Power Plants - Pharmaceutical plants - Food Processing plants - Marine and Offshore applications - Cold storage facilities - Refineries - Construction and heavy-duty equipment lighting - Outdoor industrial areas

In all of these applications, industrial-grade lighting is designed to provide a high level of durability and performance, which makes them ideal for use in industrial environments. They also often have a longer lifespan, which can save on maintenance costs in the long run.

Explosion-proof LED Lights: A Bright Solution for Hazardous Environments

Explosion-proof lights are a type of industrial-grade lighting specifically designed for use in environments with a risk of explosion or fire. These lights are built to prevent the ignition of explosive gasses or dust. They are commonly used in facilities such as oil and gas refineries, chemical plants, and coal mines.

One of the main benefits of explosion-proof lights is their ability to improve worker productivity. These lights provide bright and even illumination, which makes it easier for workers to see what they're doing, reducing the risk of mistakes and increasing the speed at which tasks can be completed. 

Additionally, lighting provides a higher colour rendering index(CRI) which can result in better visual perception. This can be especially helpful in tasks that require detailed visual inspection, such as quality control.

Another essential benefit of explosion-proof lights is their energy efficiency. Compared to traditional incandescent or fluorescent lights, LED lights consume much less energy, which can help reduce costs associated with lighting. Furthermore, LED lights have a longer lifespan, which can reduce maintenance and replacement costs in the long run.

And explosion-proof  lights are also more environmentally friendly than traditional lights. They emit less heat, which can reduce the overall energy consumption in a facility. They are built to be more durable and have a longer lifespan.

Explosion-proof  lights also have a high level of durability and performance, which makes them ideal for use in industrial environments. They can withstand extreme temperatures and harsh environmental conditions, which helps to reduce downtime caused by equipment failure.

Overall, explosion-proof lights can provide significant productivity benefits by improving worker safety, efficiency, and visual quality in hazardous environments. These lights are a cost-effective and environmentally friendly solution that can help increase productivity and reduce costs in facilities with a risk of explosion or fire.

Lights, Camera, Action: SharpEagle On-Duty

SharpEagle is a leading manufacturer of explosion-proof lighting for industrial and hazardous environments. Their range of lights is designed to provide a safe and efficient lighting solution for facilities such as oil and gas refineries, chemical plants, and coal mines.

One of the critical features of SharpEagle's explosion-proof lights is their high durability and performance. They are built to withstand the harsh conditions of industrial environments. They are certified to meet international explosion-proof standards, such as ATEX LED lights, IECEx, UL, and CE. This makes them an ideal choice for use in hazardous areas with a risk of explosion or fire.

Another critical feature is their energy efficiency. They use LED technology, which consumes less energy and has a longer lifespan than traditional incandescent or fluorescent lights. This can reduce lighting and maintenance costs while reducing the facility's carbon footprint.

SharpEagle offers a wide range of explosion-proof lights suitable for different applications, including:

- High-bay lights - Floodlights - Area lights - Linear lights - Street lights - Explosion-proof cameras

These lights are designed to provide high-quality and efficient lighting for industrial environments.

SharpEagle is also known for its customization service. They work closely with their customers to understand their specific lighting needs and design custom solutions to meet their requirements. This allows the customers to optimize their lighting solution and get the most value out of the investment.

All these make SharpEagle's range of ATEX LED lights a reliable, efficient, and cost-effective solution for facilities that require safe lighting in hazardous environments. They are built to meet the highest international standards and offer various options to meet different application requirements. The company's customization service can provide additional benefits by optimizing the solution to meet each customer's specific needs.

Achieving Safe and Efficient Industrial Lighting with SharpEagle!

Proper industrial lighting ensures a safe, productive, and secure working environment. Explosion-proof lights, in particular, are designed for use in environments with a risk of explosion or fire and provide several benefits such as energy efficiency, high-quality visual perception, and durability.

Suppose you need explosion-proof lighting for your industrial facility. SharpEagle's products should be considered an ideal solution due to their range of options, durability, and energy efficiency while meeting all safety standards.

‍You can call us at 07498 012352 / +971-44541054 or mail us at sales@sharpeagle.uk 

[sun-citadel]

Solis lore time

Researching this was a nightmare, but Solis's temperature limit has been raised up to 23,660 F / 13,126 C.

He usually stays within under half that range, around the 10,000 F / 5540 C so he doesn't risk harming himself in the process — as he can quite literally melt himself through extended use

Why such a specific number ? He uses plasma rather than true fire for his abilities, though is capable of producing an oxyhydrogen flame [ which is far lower temperatures ranging up to 5,100 F / 2,800 C ] . This is due to possessing argon, helium, hydrogen, and oxygen in his fuel tanks at all times.

It's also explosive, which Solis is meant to be able to handle typically — though, he can quite literally explode on command too.

This combination + paired with oxygen to stabilize the plasma itself causes him to be rather dangerous when his ` fires ` are used — with risks of melting himself as temperatures can increase to 45,000 F / 25,000 C , though it is through prolonged exposure in his case.

It also relates him more closely to the sun, as the sun itself is made of solar plasma rather than true fire itself, even if he is hotter than its surface at max capabilities.

There is also proof of plasma itself being used in MMX as a form of attack [ given Axl's plasma gun is a weapon ].

Though, as stated, he typically works in far lower ranges to avoid risking his wellbeing, and uses higher temps as a last ditch effort / survival tactic whenever necessary.

As for how he manages to keep stable despite being a melting risk for his own body, his internal are lined in an acrylic shell, and his exterior is made up of an outermost layer of titanium, which makes it incredibly hard for him [ but not impossible ] to melt externally. It also makes him light in weight for a reploid of his size and stature, if not extremely durable due to its overall hardness [ + that of acrylic ] .

Though, internally he's a rather cold in places as to assure the storage of the gasses he carries. Or at least the tanks he weilds are — as his external body is typically warm to the touch, to the point of him glowing ` golden ` , when in reality his armor is tan in colour. So there's a layer where internal gasses which are stored in highly cold temps, a middle layer which is far more warmer, and his external layer / armour which glows golden.

This is due to actively assuring he doesn't need to warm up his actual fire capabilities, though does not apply to the plasma itself as plasma torches comparable to him do not need to be pre - heated.

Be cautious when looking at his plasma firectly, as he can quite literally blind you !

[dalymiddleeast]

Choosing the Right ATEX Hand Lamps and Torches for Hazardous Environments

When working in hazardous environments, safety is the top priority. Choosing the right lighting solutions, such as ATEX Hand Lamps and ATEX Torches, is crucial to ensuring operational efficiency while adhering to stringent safety standards.

Why ATEX-Certified Lighting?

ATEX-certified lighting is specifically designed to prevent explosions in environments where flammable gases, vapors, or dust are present. These lamps and torches meet strict European safety regulations, making them the ideal choice for industries such as oil & gas, chemical processing, and mining.

Features of ATEX Hand Lamps

ATEX hand lamps provide portable, reliable lighting in hazardous zones. Some key features include:

Explosion-proof design: Prevents sparks that could ignite flammable substances.

Rugged construction: Built to withstand harsh industrial conditions.

Rechargeable options: Ensuring long operational use without constant battery replacements.

Ergonomic handling: Lightweight and easy to carry, even in confined spaces.

Benefits of ATEX Torches

ATEX torches are compact, powerful, and designed for maximum safety. They offer:

High-lumen output for enhanced visibility in low-light conditions.

Water and dust resistance, ensuring durability in extreme environments.

Multiple lighting modes, including emergency signaling functions.

Long battery life, reducing the need for frequent replacements.

Applications in Industrial Settings

ATEX lighting solutions are indispensable in various industries, including:

Oil and gas: Used in refineries, offshore platforms, and maintenance areas.

Chemical plants: Ensuring safety in volatile chemical environments.

Mining operations: Providing reliable illumination in underground tunnels.

Firefighting and emergency services: Essential for search and rescue operations.

Find the Best ATEX Lighting Solutions

For high-quality ATEX hand lamps and ATEX torches, visit Daly ME for a wide selection of explosion-proof lighting solutions that meet industry standards.

Investing in the right lighting not only ensures compliance with safety regulations but also enhances workplace efficiency and security. Choose wisely and stay safe!

[ecommarce]

Intrinsically Safe Flame Proof LED Torch | 85 Lumens

The  Intrinsically Safe is the first flashlight made by Fenix that is certified by IECEx, ATEX and CSA, making this Intrinsic flashlight safe for use in Zone 1 and Zone 2 areas where there is an explosive gas mixture and Zone 21 or Zone 22 areas. (The light cannot be used in underground mines.) This new intrinsically safe flashlight is easy to use. To turn the WF05E on, simply rotate the head of the flashlight. The WF05E has three output options and is powered by two AAA alkaline batteries. The only compatible batteries are Energizer E92, Duracell MN2400, or Panasonic LR03XWA's. Using these batteries will allow you to access the 10-, 30-, and 85-lumen output modes. As is with most Fenix flashlights, the Fenix WF05E is IP68 rated, protecting it from dust and foreign objects and completely submersible for 2 meters for 30 minutes.

[elstreem]

ALBW Roleswap AU...thing?

Trying to write about this idea where it's Hyrule that got devastated and so Link seeks help from Ravio and Hilda in Lorule. Long post, but here's what I've written about it. I don't think I'm gonna do anything more substantial for it, but it's fun writing this.

Here's a google docs version that's prolly easier to read: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ar_f6wXBTeY3DGfWeM667QqwvyS-2GfrlZTMCcKQ6BY/edit?usp=sharing

ALBW AU: The Appointed Knight and the Feral Hero

Among the realms created by the Divine mothers, two were tied like the two sides of a coin - both fair kingdoms, with a royal family who protected the sacred relic, Triforce. The Triforce was the sum of the Goddesses’ powers left in these realms, and was even said to be able to grant wishes, leading some to seek its power...unbeknownst to the guardians of the Triforce, it also serves as the cornerstone of their respective realms. No one knows what would happen if the Triforce was broken in some form, for it has never happened before…

As mentioned, the Triforce was left in two particular realms, so close and yet far from each other. The realm bathed in warm sunlight was called Hyrule, while the realm under the cover of soothing darkness was called Lorule. Without knowing of it, the denizens of these two realms prospered similarly to each other. But they were never able to meet, save for when a slight distortion in time and space would show times and places through mirrors and reflections. Only a passing mystery, and were it not for a grievous calamity, perhaps there would never have been a time when Hyrule would need aid from Lorule…

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

The clamor of war rang loudly throughout Hyrule Castle. The castle was besieged by terrible forces, slavering monsters and twisted ghouls, howling as they clashed with the soldiers of Hyrule. Men shouted and attacked, hoping to defend their kingdom to the last. However, this was not where the real battle was to be found. In the chaos, there was only one place of stillness - the castle sanctuary, where the princess stood and her knight stood against the demon king, who had risen again. Behind the two protectors of the kingdom, the Triforce shone with a radiant light. “Hand over the Triforce,” Ganon rumbled, hands flexed around a trident. The princess stretched out a hand, tapping into her magical heritage. Link readied his blade and shield - they would never let this monster ruin the world with the Triforce’s power. Never.

The battle began, trident slashing, magic weaving, sword and shield parrying. Link and Zelda fought desperately against the strength of Ganon, who shrugged off their attacks as though it could only annoy him. With a roar, Ganon swatted away Link, the young Hylian’s slight frame getting thrown into the wall with force to crack his bones. Zelda cried out, but she did not waver - even as Ganon lunged forward to lay his hands on the Triforce, she spun around and reached for the relic herself.

“Oh goddesses, protect us!” Zelda wished with all her heart, but even as her words tapped into the Triforce’s power, Ganon’s own hand had reached the relic.

Even while bloodied and bruised, and screaming from the effort, Link got up, trying to move, desperate, as Ganon wished for Hyrule’s destruction.

The two wishes, opposite to each other, warred within the activated relic. Link tried to run, to reach for Zelda even as the Triforce shattered with explosive power, with blinding light pouring out of it.

In those terrible last moments, Link saw the princess turn to him, her form becoming rigid. Ganon too, had stopped - and Link found his own consciousness dimming, burning with only one thought. He had failed his home.

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

The sun was yet to rise and all was still in the dark hours preceding dawn.

Or so it was supposed to be, if it weren’t for the angry yells of a woman and a sound of scurrying feet.

The village Blacksmith groaned and hauled himself up from his bed, drearily wiping a hand across his face as his wife rushed into the room.

“Now what is this ruckus all about!?” the Blacksmith complained.

“The stinking thief is back! I told you to report it to the castle, but no, you just had to wait for proof! Well, here’s the proof you want!” the hassled woman said sharply, and she grabbed hold of her husband’s arm and fairly dragged him outside, causing a string of complaints. She ignored the fact that he was barefoot and still in his sleeping clothes and hurried him into the cold air of the early morning. She paused very briefly to grab a fresh torch, and continued along. When she stopped, the Blacksmith was not in the most agreeable mood, but even he could see the damage.

The pots they used for storing water and grains were smashed, and their little garden that had once been full of promising vegetables had been ransacked. But even with the messy scene one could see paw prints in the dirt.

“What was it?” the Blacksmith asked, taking the torch from his wife. He knelt to take a closer look at the destruction.

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “I wasn’t sure - I just heard the sounds of a pot getting smashed and I rushed on over here. I only caught it running away, but it looked beastly, all matted fur and glowing eyes - ugh!”

It would be no match for you in your state, the Blacksmith thought, and he hid a grin. Keeping a straight face, he stood up again and said, “Well, I’ll call on our neighbor to help. No need to alert the Castle.”

She gave a disbelieving snort. “That lad is good for nothing but lounging around!”

“But still, he’s the appointed knight of the realm. Go on inside dear, that is enough trouble for one morning,” the Blacksmith said.

After putting on work clothes and making sure that everything was secured, the Blacksmith walked on over to a house on a hill, keeping his eyes peeled for any lurking creatures. However, upon reaching the house, the man gave a groan - of all the mornings he made this trip, today was the miraculous day the appointed knight was not sleeping in. The house was dark and a piece of paper was tacked to the door. The paper read:

“If you’re looking for me, I’m at the Castle!” - Knight of the Realm, Ravio.

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

Morning came and went, the sun’s rays bringing cheer and light to the land. Within the Castle’s kitchen, the maids and cooks were bustling about, preparing food for lunch. But in the middle of all this activity, a boy was sitting still, snacking on an apple as he idled the time away.

“Surely you have business to do, Ravio?” one of the exasperated cooks asked, watching Ravio take another apple from the kitchen’s stores and eat it.

“I’m in the business of filling my energy up after an early morning training!” Ravio said, grinning as much as he could with a mouthful of apple.

“...right,” the cook muttered. Sure, Ravio had been in the castle before dawn’s light, but all the staff saw of him was him taking a nap in the knight’s training room.

A page popped into the castle kitchens, and seeing Ravio, marched up to him. Ravio’s grin slid off his face as he saw the page’s gleeful look. He knew what that meant.

“Her Grace, Princess Hilda, commands the Knight of the Realm to the Counsel Room!” the page said as loudly as possible. The nearby kitchen staff snickered as Ravio stood up and wiped the apple juice off his face.

Ravio might not fear monsters, but he had a healthy fear of his closest friend.

-------

"I tell you, your Grace, something has been ferreting around, stealing food and making a ruckus. The missus reckons it’s some sort of beast from what she saw. Maybe a wolf? But then again…"

"There are no wolves in Lorule."

"Exactly!"

"Well, wolves or no wolves, if it is disturbing the peace our appointed knight of the realm should be looking into it," Princess Hilda of Lorule said.

Her crimson eyes flicked over to said knight of the realm, even if he wasn't acting like it. Ravio might have looked the part, wearing armor stamped with the royal sigil of Lorule. It was an impressive enough sight that most never minded the lack of a sword at his back. However, instead of standing at duty, he was slouching, idly tugging at his scarf and wishing the audience would be over.

Hilda cleared her throat and tapped her staff on the ground, making Ravio jump nervously. As carefree as he was, he did not like testing Hilda's temper.

"Yess, your Grace?" Ravio asked.

"The Blacksmith brought his problem personally to the castle, Ravio. And I say, you must look into it this time," Hilda said, emphasizing her last two words.

Ravio groaned. Hilda was annoyed that the Blacksmith had to bring this problem up personally. Okay, so he was the knight of the realm, but that did not mean he had to solve every problem his neighbors had, right?

Then again, it seemed like a monster was involved.

~~~~~~~

The bushes underneath the trees rustled, and as Ravio followed close, he saw a pair of eyes looking out at him from the shadows. They glowed as they caught the light, and Ravio hesitated - human eyes did not glow like that, which could only mean this was a monster.

He quickly grabbed his Hookshot, and fired - the claw shot through the air. The beast leapt clear, but was too slow by just a second and caught a glancing blow. Ravio heard a yelp, and some footsteps going away. Ravio gave chase - even a glancing blow from a Hookshot was enough to give the most hardened monster some pause. And a pause was all he needed for another shot, and whatever his faults, Ravio had a good eye. Again the Hookshot pierced the air, and this time he scored a direct hit. Ravio knew it from the way the Hookshot had struck.

He hurried after the beast and came into the circle of trees, where he found something lying limp on the ground.

"Got you," Ravio murmured to himself, grabbing his bow. He readied an arrow at the beast, and was about to loose the projectile when the beast twitched and groaned - but the groan did not sound at all beastly.

Ravio dropped the bow and came close - yes, now that he was near he could see a hand peeking out from underneath some clothing. Perhaps a humanoid monster? But in the next moment he heard a soft whisper, and the creature went still. Ravio dropped to his knees beside the figure and turned him over, gasping at what he found. The "monster" was a lad his age, covered in a dirty old cloak. He couldn't see much of the boy's face as it was covered in grime and dirty blonde hair that spilled over one side of his face, but it was definitely a human.

"Hey! Can you hear me?"

All he got as a response was a sigh. Ravio's blood went cold, remembering how the boy had gone still. Ravio dropped his head onto the boy's chest, and listened hard - it was faint, but there was breath and a heartbeat within him.

Moving quickly, Ravio pulled up a bottle of Red Potion and carefully tipped it to the boy's lips - he was unresponsive at first, but when Ravio put a drop of potion to his lips, the lad's tongue licked it away. Very, very carefully, Ravio put a small amount to the boy's mouth, and he swallowed it. In this way, the boy finished the bottle of red potion, which brought back some color to his face.

"Hey, hold on, okay? Stay with me, here," Ravio said. He slung the boy's arm over his shoulders, and putting his own arm around the boy's hip, he stood up. The boy's head leaned limply into Ravio's shoulder, and Ravio fought the urge to sneeze - the guy smelled bad - like he'd been sleeping in the wilds and rolled through mud, kind of bad.

The lad was dead weight, and Ravio had a hard time pulling him along. It was with relief that Ravio heard the Blacksmith calling.

"Ahoy! What have you got there? The beast?"

"Nah, I clobbered the beast good, it should stay away. But I found a stranger, he clearly needs help," Ravio reported. The knight's normally jolly tone was urgent and the Blacksmith knew he wasn't goofing around.

"Alright, here I go! Phew, this one needs a bath," the Blacksmith grunted as he scooped the boy up easily.

"And a good meal - he feels almost dead," Ravio panted, relieved at having the weight off his shoulders.

"Bother, the house is full of weapons to be shipped - we should put him in your house, yeah?" the Blacksmith said.

"Mine!?" Ravio said in dismay.

"Of course. You helped him, you have to see it through," the Blacksmith said.

"Oh, I guess. He better pay rent," Ravio muttered.

For all of Ravio's words he was anxious for the boy and was relieved when the Blacksmith put him into his own bed.

~~~~~~

The boy wandered back inside, shrugging off his cloak. Ravio looked up with a smile and then gasped in surprise - with the grime wiped away, he could have sworn the face he was looking at was his own.

Well, not quite - the stranger's hair was blond and his eyes were blue. Also, he had seriously dark bags under his eyes and hollow cheeks, like he had missed many good meals and nights of sleep.

"Whoa - wow, this is a shocker - talk about seeing your twin," Ravio said.

The boy looked blankly at him.

"…look .are you really just speechless with shock all the time?" Ravio asked.

The boy shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Well, nothing for it. Here, maybe some food will loosen you up. You look faint with hunger," Ravio said.

The boy nodded gratefully, and dropped himself into one of the chairs at the table.

Ravio brought out a plate, filled with goods from the castle - bread, butter, fried eggs and apple slices. He had a feeling that the boy was hungry, and he was right - though the lad tried to restrain himself for politeness, he gulped down the meal as if famished. Ravio busied himself with cleaning his kitchen, which was a little dusty.

“Well, you look much better now that you had a bite or ten in you,” Ravio said as the boy set down his spoon and fork with a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~

"Well Ravio, have you considered one thing?"

"What?" Ravio asked, shifting uncomfortably at seeing Hilda's raised eyebrow.

"That maybe…you're talking way too much to give space," Hilda said tartly.

"Hey!" Ravio said in indignation. Hilda didn't show any outward signs of amusement, but Ravio knew her long enough to know that her eyes were smiling at the joke. It almost made the little jab worth it.

"Anyway, I shall go see this stranger, see if I can loosen his tongue," Hilda said.

The response however, was far more dramatic than the two expected. On seeing Hilda enter the room, the boy's eyes widened, and he hurriedly dropped to one knee and put his hand on his chest in a knight's bow. Hilda and Ravio traded glances.

"Please stand, good sir. I heard from Ravio about your appearance…but please, tell us more about yourself," Hilda said.

The boy raised his head, but looked down again and sadly shook his head. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. He raised his hands and folded them in front of his throat.

"Ah, so you cannot speak…I'm sorry to have asked it without consideration," Hilda said.

The boy shook his head as if trying to reassure her there was no offense.

~~~~~~~~

A stone statue stood inside the blasted courtyard. Even petrified, the beauty of the strange lass was not marred at all - her form perfectly captured in rock. She would have looked lovely if it weren't for the expression of horror on her face. The wolf circled the statue, and Ravio read a great sadness in Link's blue eyes.

Ravio drew close and saw, among the petrified waves of the lass's hair, a crown, and her dress bore a banner displaying a royal crest similar to Lorule's.

The wolf sat down, facing the statue, before raising his head and giving off a lonely howl.

--------

Aaaand that's it. I have a few more ideas to toss into this (Link and Ravio searching for the lost Master Sword of Lorule? Hilda facing off against Ganon?) but I highly doubt I can add anything more weighty to this. I don't even have a proper explanation for why Link turns into a wolf (though in my mind, what's happened to Hyrule is a similar situation to the Twilight, where time has stopped and the souls of Hylians are left as wandering, dazed wraiths.) I might post other writing scraps if I feel like it?

[readyplayerhobi]

Neon Seoul

; Cyberpunk Detective!Jimin x Detective!Reader

; Genre: Angst, smut, slight fluff

; Word Count: 25.7k

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, you are his partner.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what partners did.

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

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

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

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

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

Night just meant more crime.

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

“Ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There just wasn't enough time in the day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe not yet anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks hot, and beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Name: Jung Hoseok. 

Age: Unknown

DOB: Unknown

Height: 5’10

Weight: 69kg

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Emergency Contact: Unknown

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

Convictions: None

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that acceptable?” 

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It turned your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gaeilgeoirgay]

Day Two- Date Night

Tis Day 2 of SpideyTorch week! Here’s my entry for today’s prompt 

Ao3 Link

@spideytorchweek 

You Deserve It All (and more)

Johnny takes one last look in the mirror, straightening his jacket and combing through his hair. It’s his two-year anniversary dinner with Peter tonight and he wants it to be perfect. 

It’s been brilliant so far- they had met in their usual place for breakfast before taking a swing/fly around the city. They had had a picnic lunch in Central Park after a long morning of crime-fighting and had then wandered around New York, visiting a bunch of tourist traps and local spots.

Johnny’s favourite had been the Chinese garden on Staten Island while Peter’s had been a small library on Greenwich Street. They’ve both vowed to return for future dates and Johnny can’t wait.

Now though, the two of them are going for dinner in a fancy restaurant high amongst the skyscrapers, looking over their city. Daredevil had agreed to take over Peter’s patrol route for the night and the others had said they’d be around to deal with any trouble so Johnny and Peter could have the perfect date.

“You look amazing, Johnny.” His sister’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He turns to look at her from where she’s leaning on his doorframe, anxiously smoothing down his shirt. “You think so?” He asks and Sue smiles.

“Peter is gonna be blown away. Speaking of, you’d better get going if you don’t want to be late.” She says, checking her watch. Johnny nods and looks around for his dress shoes before spotting them beside his bed, exactly where he’d left them.

“Okay, I’m going. Thanks, Sue.” He says, slipping them on. “I’m proud of you, Johnny. What you and Peter have? You deserve it all and more.” Sue says, smiling lovingly at him. Johnny feels tears prick at his eyes and he suddenly can’t speak around the lump in his throat. He opts to hug his older sister tightly.

“I love you too, Sue.” He says quietly before pulling away. Sue straightens his tie and then beckons him out the door. He heads out, grabbing his wallet and keys along the way. Reed and Ben look up from the papers they’re hunched over to give him encouraging smiles and he waves at them before he leaves.

Johnny grabs a spare helmet, specifically Peter’s helmet, from the shelf and slides it into his motorbike’s storage compartment before toggling open the door and speeding into the night.

He drives for around fifteen minutes until he swerves to a stop outside Peter’s apartment, parking his bike at the front door of the building. Johnny jogs up the stairs, content to leave the bike for five minutes while he collects his Spider.

Johnny knocks quickly at the door before stepping back, bouncing on his heels a little in anticipation. He hears footsteps and then the door swings open, revealing Peter’s equally excited self. “Hey Flamebrain! You look…. Wow. Amazing.” Peter says brightly, his exuberant greeting trailing off as he looks Johnny up and down.

His usual motormouth of a boyfriend is struck dumb, staring at Johnny like he’s the Cullinan diamond. Johnny laughs and twirls a little, just to show off. Peter shakes himself out of his daze and steps forward, sweeping Johnny into his arms and planting a light kiss on his lips.

“You look incredible too, Pete. Why don’t you wear suits all the time again?” Johnny says, taking in the beautiful sight that is one Peter Benjamin Parker in a red suit. He’s absolutely stunning and he’s Johnny’s, somehow.

“Because suits are expensive and only to be worn on special occasions. MJ picked this one out. I’m guessing you like it?” Peter teases and Johnny pouts. “I’d have you in a suit all the time if I could. You’re gorgeous, Peter, seriously.” Johnny says, aiming to make Peter blush but still telling one hundred percent truth. Peter is beautiful in gym shorts and oversized hoodies- he’s beautiful in everything- but Johnny has always had a weakness for suits.

“Flatterer. We’d better go, I don’t want to miss our reservations.” Peter says, smiling. Johnny takes his hand then and they make their way downstairs to find Johnny’s bike miraculously in the same place. Peter grabs his helmet while Johnny swings a leg over the bike.

Peter’s arms settle around his waist and Johnny kicks the bike into gear, zooming through Queen’s near empty streets with it’s hero clinging onto him.

 They make it to the restaurant fairly quickly, as it’s off the main thoroughfares and they can avoid the traffic sinkhole of Times Square and the Boulevard.

The elevator up to the restaurant is made of glass, and the building itself is almost wall-to-wall windows. It’s probably a bitch to replace after attacks but Johnny reckons it’s made out of some sort of shatter-proof glass that actually holds up to New York’s villains. Not that it’s his problem, at least not tonight.

They’re met at the top by a maître’d, who hands their jackets off to another employee and then guides them to a table in the corner. The restaurant is all glass too and they can see right across New York’s skyline. Peter whistles lowly at the view and Johnny can’t help but agree. 

They see the skyline everyday in uniform but every new angle brings out a different side to their city and they’re usually too busy to appreciate it.

Menus appear and Johnny pores over his, trying to decide what looks the best. It’s a hard decision but eventually, he and Peter agree that Johnny will get the fancy pasta dish neither of them can pronounce while Peter gets the steak and then they’ll split it when the food arrives.

The food is delicious and the company even better. Peter and Johnny have known each other for years but somehow, they manage to have entirely new conversations every time they talk. Peter never fails to make him laugh and his impression of Doctor Doom nearly has Johnny snorting the expensive wine.

Hours pass as they eat and talk, the food as divine as it sounded. Even their vigilante appetites are satisfied by the end of dessert and they end up retreating to the balcony to watch the city lights, in imitation of the stars they can’t see.

Peter lays his head on Johnny’s shoulder and he pulls his boyfriend in tight, dropping a kiss on the top of his head as they stand in each other’s embrace.

 A distant explosion sounds and Johnny watches a plume of smoke start to rise from the centre of the city.

“It’s our night off.” Johnny offers. ”Mhm, the others have it covered.” Peter replies. They stand there for another minute before they both look at each other and grin. 

The tab is settled quickly and they store their fancy clothes in one of the many lockboxes scattered around the city for this exact occasion. They both ended up wearing their suits beneath their civvies and they’re headed to the explosion site within half an hour.

When they arrive, Doom, Electro and Mole Man seem to have teamed up, along with a host of minions and Moloids.

Sue is the first to spot them and she laughs at their sudden appearance. “I thought we told you to take a break tonight! It’s your anniversary!” She shouts over the battle noise. It alerts the other gathered heroes to their presence and they receive a variety of other greetings.

“The first time we met we were in uniform! I think it’s a good way to end the day!” Johnny shouts back before they turn their attention to the battle. There’s a horde of Moloids beginning to burrow beneath nearby buildings so Johnny draws Peter’s attention to them and they jump into the fray.

Spider-Man and the Human Torch attack together, fighting side-by-side, not for the first time and most definitely not the last. No, they’re just getting started.

[the-unknown-storyteller]

concern for a friend

(week #1, prompt 3: excitement)

tw: mentions of derealisation, panic

Summary: Ranboo is working on the watchtower, as Ghostbur wanders off as the self-designated snack man. When the ghost doesn't return for quite some while, Ranboo is starting to worry for his friend. Just where is Ghostbur? 

__

“I will be the snack man and get us some snacks. You work on that tower real good and I’ll get us something, alright? Do you like savory or sweet things? You know what, I’ll just get a bit of everything. I’ll be right back, oki?” 

Before Ranboo has a chance to react, Ghostbur is up and running in the direction of Tommy’s dirt shack. Dusting off his pants from the climb, the ghost waves enthusiastically from the top of the hill, then disappears behind some trees and shrubbery. Ranboo releases a sigh, smiling fondly at the antics of the ghost. He gets out a stack of spruce logs and starts building up the pillars to the skies. He wonders why Tommy needs the watchtower to be this tall. Surely, it would have been enough if it was one or two thirds of its current height, it’s not like none of them have tridents. He’s pretty sure most of them have access to enderpearls as well. 

Nonetheless, he keeps to the height given by Tommy, diligently placing the spruce logs and replacing the strange purple planks at the sides with dark oak instead. It won’t be the prettiest watchtower, but it’ll be enough. Maybe Ghostbur can improve its design.

Speaking of the ghost, he’s been gone for quite a while now. Ranboo knows that he is more than capable of taking care of himself. But then he thinks of the ghost’s memory issues and his own problems with keeping himself tethered to the real world sometimes, blinking the wrong way and suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place. It’s happened one too many times for the enderman hybrid to be quite comfortable with this situation. (If Tubbo hadn’t found him that one time, he doesn’t know what would have happened. He doesn’t like to think about it.)

Ranboo begins to pack up his things, putting away the spruce logs in a chest and strapping his sword and axe to his back instead. Tommy will forgive him if the tower isn’t finished by tomorrow. He hadn’t given him a deadline, anyway.

He begins his journey up the hill, rounding the trees and shrubbery he saw Ghostbur disappear behind a couple hours ago and following the path towards Tommy’s abode. He keeps an eye on his surroundings and mentally takes note of anything that appears out of place. The air gets significantly colder, as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon. It was getting late. He adjusts the leather straps of his weapons.

“Ghostbur?”, Ranboo calls out, knocking at the wooden door of Tommy’s shack. No answer. He opens the door with a creak and looks inside. There are some chests along the wall, a few of them placed smack in the middle of the place. He can hear the vrwooping sounds of an enderchest nearby, but no humming of a particularly musical ghost. He takes a step inside and makes his way down the stairs on the right, but nothing. The place is empty. 

He leaves the dirt shack behind and runs down the prime path, frantically turning his head from side to side, in the hopes that he spots the yellow of Ghostbur’s sweater or the red of his beanie. But no such luck.

“Ghostbur?!!” Ranboo starts calling the ghost’s name, noting how eerily empty and abandoned this place is. He spends all his time in the Arctic Commune or, more recently, in Snowchester, so he’s never stayed here long enough to notice, but this place feels dead. He can feel something crawl up his arms, shooting through his hands and making him shake them violently. 

“Ghostbur, where are you?!” He sends out a quick message to his friend, but there’s no response. Something isn’t right. The ghost should have responded by now. One might think that he would lose his communicator often, with his spotty memory and his clumsy tendency to lose most other things. But he’s actually never lost it and he always answers. 

“It’s fine, he’s fine. He probably just got fixated on a flower or went overboard on the snacks. He gets over-excited like that,” Ranboo reasons, taking the path down towards L’Manhole. The glass, preserving what was never meant to be, reflects the darkening sky above. He keeps a wide distance to the blown-up city, eyeing the red vines at its edges with worry. He sees neither yellow nor any red nor any blue, so he turns around and leaves the dead space to its own.

“Ghostbur??” Why isn’t he answering?! Night has fallen completely by now, the new moon trying its hardest to plunge Ranboo’s surroundings in complete darkness, but he just takes out a torch and lights the matchstick with a practiced flick of his wrist against the ground. 

The half-enderman roams the perimeters around Eret’s museum, focusing his hearing towards the near distance. Besides the undead groaning of zombies and the quiet clattering of skeletons, he can’t make out much more. Except for a quiet hiss. He barely has time to react, as he hears an explosion go off in the distance. Before he knows it, he is up and running in that direction. Images of a hurt Ghostbur, running through his brain. “Ghostbur!!” 

And then, he hears yelling and noises that sounds like sobbing and it makes him vwroop in panic and distress. His friend is in danger, his friend is in danger. He feels a lurch in his stomach and blinks across the field, reappearing at the steps of Eret’s museum. Doesn’t Eret usually spawn-proof his builds? Doesn’t matter right now. Ranboo runs up the steps, skipping the last flight, as he blinks out and appears in the middle of the build. Not here. Further away, beyond the wall. He takes out his trident and places some water, jumping the wall. 

During the highpoint of his jump, he can make out yellow and red and a lot of blue just beyond the river. He lets out a series of distressed noises and blinks away. His hands are starting to shake from jumping this often, but his friend is hurt, hurt, hurt and he has to hurry. 

He stumbles through his landing and tridents across the river, landing close to what is definitely Ghostbur hunched over, surrounded by blue, why is there so much blue?!! “Ghostbur??” He tentatively reaches for his friend and touches his shoulder lightly. The ghost snaps his head up, staring at the enderman hybrid. He flinches back in shock, blinking away a few metres further.

“Ranboo!!”, the ghost calls out, jumping from his position on the ground. “Oh my goodness, I must have totally lost track of the time. You see, I was walking along the prime path, looking for some snacks when I saw- oh, the snacks, Ranboo! I totally forgot about the snacks!! ” The ghost pats down his pants, then shuffles through the bag at his side. “Sorry, bread is all I have on me. You want some?” Ghostbur offers some fluffy bread rolls, but Ranboo is too stunned to react. Adrenalin is still running high in his bloodstream, making him tense and freeze up. What is happening? 

“Not a fan of bread rolls? Oh well, more for me and friend- oh my gosh, Ranboo, look who I found in the woods!!” Getting off-track again, Ghostbur whirls around and pulls something blue and fluffy towards the perplexed enderman. “I found friend!! He was just grazing on some grass and when he saw me, I saw that look in his eyes that told me that I should follow him and so I did! I don’t quite understand why he brought me here, this just seems like a normal clearing to me, but I mean, I trust him, he knows what he’s doin-” The excited rambles of the ghost are cut off by the heavy weight of two hands on his shoulders. He looks up and is met with the shiny wet eyes of a certain enderman hybrid. “Ranboo? What’s wrong?”, come the soft questions, as the ghost realizes that something must be wrong.

“Please never do that again.”

“Never do what again, Ranboo? I was just getting some snacks like I told you when I met an old friend, haha-”

“I understand that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you have to understand that you didn’t return for hours and hours until the sun set.” Ranboo takes a shuddering breath. “You didn’t return and you didn’t respond to my messages and then I heard an explosion go off in the distance and then I saw all that blue and I thought you got hurt and I-” His tail flicks nervously from side to side, thumping against the ground every now and then in distress.

“Ranboo, Ranboo. Listen, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that it was getting this late. I got distracted by friend and didn’t look at my communicator for a while.” The ghost takes out a light blue rock from his bag and hands it to the other. “Here, this will calm you down. Take some blue.”

“Thanks, Ghostbur.”

[ohcaptaintarthister]

The Assassination of Jaime Lannister*

Rant contains spoilers of Season 8 Episode 4 of Game of Thrones. Look away if you haven't seen it.

Right. Here we go.

I did not read the series A Song of Ice and Fire (ASOIAF) until Season 5 of Game of Thrones. Fantasy is not my favorite genre. Besides these books by George RR Martin, the only fantasy novel I've read was The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King.

I was drawn to the books because of the show. They're not easy to read. Besides being thick enough to actually hurt someone with it, I read them with zero ideas about the conventions of fantasy, the worldling and so on. I was curious and wanted to see. Also, Season 5 took too long. After a weekend where I binged on Seasons 1 to 4, I needed to know about the books.

The wait for Season 5 was reason one. Curiosity the second. The third was I have fallen in love with Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. Yes. I was in love with them as a pair. They are my favorite characters.

Back then I had no idea what shipping meant, and what fandoms were. But I knew I had to see if the chemistry of Jaime and Brienne in the show, awesomely played by Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Gwendoline Christie, resulted from casting and adaptation or if the characters' interactions sizzled in the books. In other words, and this is vocabulary I picked up once I began wading deeper into the fandom, I was curious if it was canon.

And it was!

On their own and together, Jaime and Brienne were written with nuanced complexity. Jaime, especially, seemed sketched to cover the entire spectrum of gray and other unknown shades of it. Readers and show-onlys went from wishing this guy Seven Hells for throwing a ten-year-old child from a window to cheering him on as he found himself, often with great reluctance at first, on a path to redemption. Because Jaime, once separated from his family--the continuing disapproval of his father Tywin because he was nothing more than a glorified bodyguard and the quicksand relationship with twin sister Cersei--was finally free to be a man on his own. It did not matter that he was one of the greatest sword fighters, that he was a Lannister and Kingsguard. Robb Stark's army captured him because he was leading the Lannister armies. He lost his hand for thinking being a Lannister gave him protection and privilege. One-handed and probably still fevered, he jumped into the bear pit to rescue Brienne of Tarth. And before that, he saved her from being raped too.

As all that Jaime had been was gradually stripped away to reveal a man who murdered his king to protect the people yet one who loved his sister without guilt, Brienne was there in the picture of him being rendered anew. Honestly, because of Brienne, I swung to Team Jaime. Possibly with pom-poms too.

But after reading the books and seeing some episodes again, I began to wonder if David Benioff and D.B. Weiss hated the character.

While in the books Jaime said, "The things we do for love" WITH LOATHING, in the show he said the line with a smirk, that throwing a boy out the window was the natural consequence of protecting his affair with Cersei. Maybe Show!Jaime didn't see it as a consequence but something that simply had to be done but without smugness.

Okay, I thought. That was weird but the writers have to know right? They read the books.

When Jaime and Brienne finally have that bath in the show, and how it was adapted as faithfully as possible, I thought the show finally understood him. It was weird that Jaime returned to Cersei before the Purple Wedding but i thought of nothing of it.

Until THAT episode in Season 4.

In the books, the scene above should be when Jaime returned at King's Landing after being captured by Robb Stark and The Brave Companions. The reunion was from Jaime' point of view. Cersei's consent was clear:

"Hurry," she was whispering now, "quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime." Her hands helped guide him. "Yes," Cersei said as he thrust, "my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you’re home now, you're home now, you’re home." She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair." 

In the show, she actually said, "It's not right!" a few times. Also, a few episodes prior to this, we saw Jaime complaining to her that he had been "back for weeks," and wanted to resume their affair. While in the books we saw two people falling in each other's arms after being apart for a long time, and needing each other desperately, in the show we saw rape. Though the claim by Benioff and Weiss was due to "bad editing/lighting" and that it was "unintentional," their refusal to actually address the issue and just re-edit and re-broadcast buried even more Jaime's redemption arc. As a viewer I forgave this mistake. Maybe next season?

Nope. It got worse.

When Jaime and Cersei made love by Joffrey' body in the books, this was the last time the twins would have sex. The books showed Jaime's gradual disillusionment with Cersei--he thought she drank too much, was tired of her scheming. Tyrion also told him about her affairs with other men. So when Jaime went to Riverrun to recover it for the Crown, he was not only the farthest from Cersei again, he was done. Just DONE. Her pleas for him to help her and promises of love end up tossed in the fire.

The show, rather than adapting this, simply diverged. Season 5 was as confused in what to do with Jaime as lots of viewers were. Season 6 saw Jaime and Cersei resume their affair before he left for the Riverlands. Returning to King's Landing in the finale, we saw the chilling look Jaime gave Cersei during her coronation.

Perhaps this was it. This would be when he falls out of love.

HA.

Season 7, until this weekend's episode, was THE WORST ADAPTATION OF JAIME. There. I'm saying it. THE WORST.

Why? It wasn't even the incest that pissed me off. Jaime, who slew the Mad King for wanting to torch King's Landing with wildfyre, did a dizzying 180 by ENABLING his sister, who murdered Queen Margaery, her former fiance, Kevan Lannister and other innocent members of the court by wildfire. Season 7 Jaime simply took Cersei at her word. Forget about Tommen, THEIR LAST SON. Who committed suicide as a result of his wife's murder. Forget about what really caused the Sept explosion. What mattered was creating a dynasty for "the last Lannisters who count."

Jaime stood by her side and in the queen' name, contributed in tearing further apart the Seven Kingdoms. No questions asked. LITERALLY no questions asked. Despite telling Cersei of the danger of her new position, he went on to rant about the lack of allies. That can be read as Jaime being practical but as the season progressed, it was proof that he would be at her side no matter what. No matter who had to be murdered. He DID say he would murder everyone until it was only the two of them left in the world. Alright.

LIoking back on past episodes, Cersei always succeeded in keeping Jaime at her side with promises of going public with their affair. In the books, Jaime pressed her to let people know he was her choice and she refused. In the Season 4 finale, she told him she told Tywin about them, resulting in passionate and this time consensual sex on a table in the White Sword Tower. In Episode 3 of Season 7, after Cersei fucked him to celebrate her victory over the Sand Snakes, we saw a loved up Jaime in the morning after.

This would be the happiest viewers had seen Jaime. Cersei, now really THE Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, would openly fuck him. The scandal reached as far as Eastwatch, with Tormund, wanting to clarify, asking which queen was discussed in a conversation. "The one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?"

After Daenerys and her Dothraki army burned the Lannister forces on their way back to King's Landing, a shaken and muddy Jaime returned to Cersei right away. And in the same episode, Cersei revealed she was pregnant again. This was happy news, indeed but Jaime needed to know one thing: who will Cersei acknowledge as the father.

"You."

Now I refuse to think Cersei had once again succeeded in manipulating him. I think she WAS pregnant. There's no way to fake joy like that. And yeah, though I don't ship them, I understood Jaime's happiness. Finally, he would get to be a real father.

Still, still, still. Season 7 Jaime really made no sense. There was none of Book Jaime here. None. What we saw was a guy who supported a tyrant willingly and was now going to be a real daddy. I hate it but that's really Season 7 Jaime. Even when he left Cersei, the reason was a headscratcher.

"I don't believe you," has got to be the worst break-up line because it's lame. Better if Jaime just looked at Cersei with puppy dog eyes and walked away. Really.

The beginning of Season 8 saw the writing of Jaime hitting the right beats. A different man, check. A man who honestly regrets what he did to Bran, check. A man who was no longer the golden lion and ready to fulfill a vow he made, check. Hearteyes at Brienne, check.

He knighted Brienne. BIG, FAT CHECKS.

In episode four, The Last of the Starks, Benioff and Weiss, probably tired from the glare of their computer screens, seemed to have just written the episode in bullet points. It became glaringly obvious they wanted the series over and done with. Fuck decent writing.

Jaime Lannister is not the only one who was badly written in the latest episode. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about Qyburn's ballista and Euron apparently a sharp-shooter. We have no idea how Missandei was captured. That drinking game with Jaime, Brienne, Podrick and Tyrion was awkward and misogynistic--seriously, why shame Brienne for being a virgin?

And Sansa! Sansa basically saying if she had not been raped and abused, she wouldn't be in the position she is now! Who on earth says anything like that? Answer: no one. And I don't mean Arya.

And Missandei. The ONE WOMAN OF COLOR in a blindingly white show is chained and beheaded!

Then Jaime. Oh, Jaime.

There are no happy endings in Game of Thrones. Ned Starks gets beheaded. Jon Snow gets knifed. Sansa is raped. Catelyn, Robb and Talisa get butchered. Just when victory is within reach, characters are punished so cruelly it's inhuman.

But it doesn't mean crappy writing. At fifteen million dollars an episode this season, I expect writing that reflects intelligence. Who cares about CGI wolves and dragons when the writing is shit?

Now it's no longer a question if David Benioff and D.B. Weiss hate Jaime. THEY DO. Everyone else was buffed up or given meat. They couldn't even spare Jaime Lannister a decent-sized bone.

I don't blame Jaime for leaving Brienne. Hear me out.

After Brienne and Sansa tell him the latest developments in King's Landing with regard to Cersei, we see Jaime shocked and even horrified. The next scene, he's in the chambers with Brienne contemplating what to do. And this is where the writing becomes really shitty:

1. He left her without saying goodbye.

2. He LEFT Brienne with her thinking he did it for Cersei.

What was the point of according her the respect and honor of being a knight--done by his own hand? What was the point of telling her he was no longer the fighter he was? Where was the respect when he was going to leave her as a regrettable one night stand? (But Winterfell to King's Landing is a month by land so I assume they've been banging for that long)

Nothing, it's just illogical shit.

Had the writers made just a bit more effort, Jaime Lannister should have been shown experiencing some happiness with Brienne, rather than Tyrion telling the viewers about it. We don't see it. We're just told and have to take their word for it. Jaime could have benefitted too in leaving Brienne in the NEXT episode. Why? It increases the stakes. Just one scene showing Jaime happy, just one, and of him ACTUALLY talking to Brienne about having to leave instead of being found out, and the episode probably won't be as crappy. I don't mind Brienne begging and crying, heartbreaking as that scene is. What I mind is Jaime never being shown what he stands to lose if he leaves Winterfell. Olenna Tyrell, before he he grants her the mercy of taking poison, had warned him it will be too late for him. She's right.

I believe he goes to King's Landing because of the guilt that he began a war to protect Cersei. When he does things for Cersei, the consequences are horrible and far-reaching. Easy to call him dumb and he is. But let's not forget that he charged at Daenerys and Drogon with just a spear thinking to end it all. A spear against a fire-breathing dragon. Like, what are the odds, right?

I'm not going to say anything more about The Bang That Was Promised And Sucked Donkey Balls. Enough has been said, enough hearts have been broken. We KNOW the world of Game of Thrones is dark and bitter and almost without hope. We really do. But as fans of the books and the show, FANS WHO MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR THE SERIES BE RENEWED AND HBO TO INCREASE THE BUDGET EVERY SEASON, all we ask for is good writing. We get that without actual material from George the writing is challenging. WE REALLY DO.

But is it too much to ask for the writers to set aside their hatred for one of the best characters in the series and understand him? Give him the material he deserves in the show? There is none of the Book Jaime trying so hard to be honorable. None. Instead what we've been given, since the first episode, is a train wreck of an adaptation that has now been confirmed as a character assassination.

It's not dragonfyre that has killed Jaime but writing that is careless, hurried and just plain awful. In Benioff and Weiss' determination and delusion in finishing the TV series on a high note, Jaime Lannister has been left with barely a whimper.

*Previously titled, "When Adaptations Assassinate A Character."

[sapphires-and-gold-fics]

Fictober Day 27: “Can you wait for me?”

Fandom: Game of Thrones / ASOIAF / The Little Mermaid (?)

Characters: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth

Notes: Here is the final chapter of my Mermaid!Brienne AU as suggested by @chromium-siren here.

Read Part 1

Read Part 2

Part 3 on AO3

xxxxxxxxxxx

Jaime lodged her in one of the lower towers of the keep among the servants whilst she recovered from her exertions. For the first two days, he visited with her whenever he had a free moment, asking her questions which she could not answer, and telling her about the city, which she could view from her small window; on the third day he had arranged to have his duties covered and he spent the whole day recounting for her how his life had altered since she had saved his life.

Jaime had been born into a great house in the west, but as a young man he had been honored with appointment to a position in the Kingsguard. His father had wanted him to stay at home and promote the family line but Jaime had wanted to be a true knight and he believed serving the king to be the most honorable pursuit, and so he had defied his father and accepted the king’s offer. It was not long before he realized how cruel and mad the king he guarded was, but he had sworn his oaths and he could not leave.

The night that Brienne had rescued him, the king himself had set fire to the royal ship en route from Dorne to the capital. In the aftermath of the explosion, Jaime had found the king with torch in hand, moving to set fire to the untouched portions of the ship. Jaime had wrestled the torch from the king and thrown it into the sea. In a fury, the king had shoved Jaime backward toward the blaze, screaming “burn them all!” and then chased the extinguished torch into the water. Jaime, like the king and many of the men who’d been traveling with him that night, could not swim. And so even if he had not honorably fought and then found himself in harm’s way, he would not have survived without Brienne’s intercession.

When the ship had not made its scheduled return to the capital, the king’s son sent a search party south and, though few bodies had washed up on the Stormland shores, it was eventually presumed that all had perished that night, set on by pirates or worse. When Jaime returned some time later after begging his way to King’s Landing, he was welcomed back as a kind of hero by some, and as a fearsome spirit by others. The new king - that sane son of the mad king who’d died - elevated Jaime to Lord Commander. And so now he found himself serving a more worthy king, and he strove to feel deserving of his new station. He never revealed to anyone the terms of the former king’s demise, nor did he clarify the assumed record.

When he had finished his tale, Brienne pantomimed her own as best she could. Jaime managed to gather that she needed to get back to the sea, and that she wanted him to go with her. When she struggled to explain her reason - while avoiding certain facts - he stopped her. He did not need a reason, he had said - she had saved his life, and he would not deny her his help. And so he secured leave from his duties and made arrangements for them to go to the Stormlands with a carriage - since Brienne could not have ridden - and two other guards, leaving four days after her arrival in the capital.

A fortnight had passed since her transformation before Brienne recovered her voice. And when he heard it again Jaime very nearly cried for, despite being slow to return in this new body, it - like her eyes - had not changed. He took up her hand in his and would not let it go until she had told her story again, without miming it; by then they were almost at Tarth.

She told him that her form had been altered by a witch who was keeping her family captive, who had turned her in order to punish her for her interference in the shipwreck; she needed Jaime’s help to rescue them because she did not know and trust any other men. She did not tell him at what cost the lives of her family would come until they had been on the island for two days. By then she found that she could lie to him no longer. She’d grown attached to him - more than she ever had with Renly, and with more love than she’d ever felt before. She would not abuse his honor with trickery.

When she told him the truth of it, he turned her hand over in his as if looking for something, and squeezed it. He said that he understood and that he felt he’d been waiting a year for this - that he had always expected his life to have come at a price; if this was it, he was glad to forfeit his own that those she loved might live; only once they reached the shore where he’d been beached did he ask if there was any way around it - not because he did not want to help her family, but because he did not want her to have his life on her conscience. At this, she became overwhelmed with feeling and he held her until she pulled away and ran to sit on the beach in solitude, unable to bear his proximity. That night he sent his lieutenants back to the capital without them, gold in hand, and secrecy secured.

Jaime walked to the beach and sat down next to Brienne in the sand, wrapping her in his arms, and she let him. She had ripped the sleeves from her borrowed dress days ago, and now she found that when the air was chilled, Jaime’s arms were just as warm as they had been when they first met, and she sank into them. Hey stayed there many hours, listening to her hum until her voice grew tired and they fell asleep curled against each other.He left her there an hour before sunrise and went back to the inn to don his armor. She woke on his return as the first pink rays of dawn picked at the sky, just like that morning so many moons ago.

“I can make it easier on you,” he said. “My armor is heavy. Walk me into the sea and it will drag me down.”

She stared at him. “Why?!” she cried.

“You are the reason I lived,” he replied with a sad smile. “Let me be yours.”

She began to say no through her tears. But as the sun peeked over the horizon, his armor cast a golden light all around them, and she found herself looking down at her petite hands and arms, and then down at the sand which now in the low tide continued further east than before.

The armor would sink him.

It would sink him because it was dense. It was heavy.

She knew what had to be done.

She stood and took his hand, pulling him behind her, across the sand. When they were just out of reach of the sandbar, she had him sit, and told him to stay in that spot, and then asked for his blade.

He gave her a strange look but unbuckled the sword belt all the same.

“What will you do, Brienne?”

“I have to try,” she said sadly.

He placed the ornate blade with the animal on the pommel in her hand, and then passed her the smaller dagger that he wore on the other hip. When she took the dagger, he clasped her hand. “Swear that I will see you again.”

She nodded, then knelt in the sand to bring their eyes level. “Jaime, the next time you see me, I will be in my true form.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly and reached out as if to brush sand from her bare unmarked shoulder. He met her glance, “Thank the gods.”

“Can you wait for me?”

“Will you promise to come back?” he asked sadly.

Brienne worried at her lip. “If no one has come for you by sunset, then I have failed and you must go, else you may still be in danger. If that happens, do not try to find me. Go, and do not come back to the sea for anything, ever. Swear to me that you will do as I say.”

He cupped her face, fingers stretching again to that point on her throat where her gills should be, and looked deeply as if re-memorizing her eyes. “I swear it.”

She swallowed and stood up and away from his touch. “Don’t forget to breathe - to,” she gestured for holding breath, not having the words, “please.”

He nodded. “I’ll remember.”

She took one last look at him, storing his golden face and hair in her mind, whispering his name like a wish, and then turned from him. She divested herself of the dress and, clasping the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other, she dove into the waves.

Her form began to revert painfully. She felt the skin of her neck, where Jaime’s fingers had just been, tear open as her gills re-formed, and she twisted in agony as the bones of her shoulders expanded, and her cheekbones stretched.

But her tail caused the most excruciating pain. The bones of her legs and feet seemed to dissolve as her lower body re-molded into her vivid blue tail. She felt sore, and awkward as she had in youth, swimming crookedly until she could finally control her tail properly and orient herself.

She navigated the coastal shelf and secreted the dagger. Then she retraced her path, sensing the currents until she thought she had located the whirlpool at the cave mouth, perhaps a league away.

As she approached the cavern, she whipped her powerful tail harder, speeding up to burst through the watery cyclone. She came out the other side without incident and swam deeper into the cave until she came upon the selkies, still guarding her pod while the witch seemed to be meditating in the corner, her fiery hair glowing brighter than Brienne recalled. Her eyes shot open at Brienne’s approach, and two of the guards moved to block her entry, but the witch waved them off, looking at the sword almost as if with recognition.

Brienne moved it in an arc through the water, letting it catch the red glow. “This is his,” she told the witch. I was able to lure him to the beach and subdue him, but he is too heavy. The body you gave me on land was weak and could not pull him into the sea. And now that I have my form, I cannot reach him. I have brought the sword as proof of my intent.”

The witch looked at her hungrily. “So close, foolish child. And you let mere weakness get in the way.”

“He is near,” cried Brienne, “Come to the surface if you do not believe me - perhaps you can reach him - your form is more suited for the land.” She stuck the sword into the silt as if to call a truce. The witch nodded with a gleam in her eye and preceded Brienne to the entrance to the cavern. She dragged her claws across the wall near the entrance, and the whirlpool dissipated, allowing them to leave.

The red woman seemed to know exactly where to find Jaime, and she sped away leaving Brienne struggling to catch up. Before she could, the witch had lurched out of the water and onto the sandbar. In less than a minute, the selkie reappeared, dragging Jaime in his full armor into the water by the leg. As their figures sank, it barely occurred to the witch that she had lost track of Brienne.

The witch was in such a fury and so committed to finishing the game that she had mislaid the most important player.

She had sunk with him nearly ten fathoms when the dagger sliced through her neck.

While the selkie had above the surface, Brienne had recovered the blade and had sat coiled in the shadows until the witch had reappeared beneath the waves. Brienne had followed quick as she could, snapping her tail hard, knowing that Jaime’s life was in the balance. With one final powerful thrust she had reached them and ended the witch’s life and, by association - though she did not know it - the lives of the selkies who guarded the others in the cavern; the seal-skinned creatures had turned to sea foam at the red woman’s demise, floating away and leaving the merfolk surprised, but free. Brienne’s father slowly lead his people back out into the open sea, the god of death having been appeased.

Brienne wanted to rejoice in the death of the red woman, but they were 20 yards below the surface now; Jaime was nearly out of air, and the armor was weighing him down.

Brienne tore at the golden armor and his clothes, removing piece after piece in an attempt to make him more buoyant. She gripped his arms and tried to climb higher, but she had exhausted her newly-re-grown muscles, and was too weak to lift them both; they continued to sink deeper.

Jaime was getting weaker and even as Brienne’s tears floated free around them, Jaime’s eyes said that he understood. He touched her arm, marveling at the speckled skin of her true self, and then he reached up and stroked her hair which, under water, was softer than silk - she had wanted this that first morning and had longed for it ever since. And now it would be her last memory of him - his fingers running through the hair at the nape of her neck while his palm stroked the skin around her gills.

She stared at him.

Her gills.

She forced Jaime to look at her and, cupping his face, slanted her mouth against his, pushing his lips into an O with her own, sealing him against the sea, and breathing into him.

His eyes widened as his lungs expanded, and she felt him settle his hands on her thick waist where skin met scales, holding her close as they continued to sink downward as one.

The god of death, having already been sated, took pity on them.

Gently, Jaime pulled away, breaking the seal. Brienne reached for him, desperate to save him again, but then froze. Under her fingers, his skin had split, though he showed no sign of pain as he breathed his first watery breath. He smiled, his startling green eyes fixed on hers, as his bright golden tail fidgeted and flexed below them, and then entwined with hers, pulling her closer still. And though she no longer breathed for him, his mouth sought hers, and he held her in a forever kind of embrace.

[sharpeagle-tech]

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[readablenoise]

The Pounding Drums and Lightning Rain: Readable Noise reviews Riptide Music Festival Day 2

Amidst weather chaos, the Fort Lauderdale music festival creates a rumble of their own with a Glastonbury worthy closer to the year

(photo: Stephanie Vento)

Fort Lauderdale- The cold weather is peeking through the smalls of the rolling waves.

On any other given Sunday, the sleepy seaside would rouse it’s head with a small herd of tourists, local at their already warmed stools along the smattering of bar staples, and lemonade in the hands of the beachgoers.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

Today however, there’s a woman in medical garb telling incoming patrons of Riptide that they will be there later to administer intravenous fluids for those wanting to rid themselves of a hangover before going in to work tomorrow.

It’s a peek behind the metaphorical curtain of the city itself, but all taken in stride as Riptide Music Festival winds down another year, with great succession.

While the next day of any festival always brings slightly drowsy eyes and ready ears, today rivals in the previous day’s excitement, and to a deserved gesture.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

Today brings the finale in the form of idkhow, Barns Courtney, Switchfoot, Reel Big Fish and headliners Jimmy Eat World; the legendary alternative legends that have never taken their foot off the pedal in terms of their songwriting craftsmanship.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

But before we get to there, the clouds roll with the waves, flashing back and forth between expected Florida warmth, and English rain, as Alex DiLeo played an impromptu acoustic set opening the Main Stage, filling in for New Politics who were unfortunately unable to attend the fest at the last minute. And it must be said that it’s a tremendous responsibility he handled well, singing to a modest crowd with an acoustic.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

And just a little ways down the sandbar, past the tempting smells of the food alley, Meg Myers is doing the same but with a dizzying power; readying to perform in intense sparklemotion with an already growing audience swaying as a DJ plays pre-show tunes in the form of reggae remixes of classic Alternative tracks such as Red Hot Chili Peppers. Myers deserves the attention; the unique mixture of ironically Kate Bush and Alanis Morrisette angst, as well as a pinch of Fiona Apple-esque honesty, her music is hypnotic as it is raw in the most beautiful of ways.

When the pounding rain finally slowed enough for the tarps draped over the instruments to be unsheathed (though it didn’t hinder the crowd, who were swaying in the drops proudly) the excitement did not abate, opening with “Jealous Sea” before cresting into the powerful “Motel”.

And as the waves crash just beyond, it’s no stretch to say the musician rivals the power of the sea itself.  While Myers came onto the scene with her booming cover of the aforementioned Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”, a track that not only is a classic, but is a sort of unspoken rite of passage for all those who dare attempt to cover it, the discovery shouldn’t stop there. Dive into any track of her catalogue, and you’ll find sounds ranging anywhere from Pixies reminiscent rock with Placebo hues.  

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

Live, Myers is nothing short of stunning, displaying a quiet and ferocious power, with the only unfortunate portion being the in and out sound issues that would hinder some of the performances on the UndergroundLauderdale Stage this day. In this case, the bass drum being turned up to such a volume that it nearly overpowered all other elements of the otherwise tight act.Nevertheless, Myers special blend of songwriting and power makes her a definite act we not only want to see again live, but will remain on our radar; as should it yours. 

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

It’s that same vein of discovery that makes Riptide such a vital festival; not only opening ears to new sounds but even more importantly, new experiences. 

Some of the best examples being idkhow (I Don’t Know How But They Found Me), who are continuing to pave the path, taking up the torches that We Are Scientists, Hot Hot Heat and Prince lit, and making it into one of the strangest, and funkiest flames we have ever heard. Interjecting humor in between their tracks, they too, are a branch we are intrigued to see grow even further. 

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

And from here, we jump into an ambition that is scarcely seen, and even less so stateside: the international festival experience.Away from the normal musical local stylings, and bordering on the wonderfully dangerous, it’s a feeling most notably seen overseas and over the pond, where geography not only shapes but maps your musical stylings. Where the South’s southern most tips relishes in ska and punk, Riptide dared to bring this cultural experience in technicolor, perhaps one of the most incredible being Barns Courtney. 

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

The UK based singer is unlike anything we have seen outside of bootleg footage of Mick Jagger in his prime, proudly flaunting an almost primal energy that had everyone rising to their feet. The 9-song set felt easily like 2 EP’s worth, with a terrific electricity that felt worthy of an area, with tracks such as “Hands” quite literally driving the rainclouds away and bringing in a scorching sun that had long since been hiding; quite literally.

Courtney is the type of artist every person must see once; a human firecracker, lighting up the stage with not only the perfect catalogue of guitars and blues like soul to back a showmanship so large, but bearing a contagious smile that seems to arrive so easily. Proof of this being that there was not a single soul in attendance who didn’t raise off of their beach towels and just start dancing, swaying or flat out jumping to “99” or “Glitter and Gold”.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

It’s a brand of rock you cannot bottle, cannot brand and cannot beat. It’s safe to say that while Barns could make anywhere feel a venue bigger than it is, he deserved a headline set later in the day, when the heat of the day set into a cool.  

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

 And as the sun began to set, an odd situation began to occur in the midst of all the discovery: a sort of towel laying apocalypse. 

Again, with good intentions, the festival handed out free beach towels to all who entered the festival. However, with the entirety of the space being a beach, including that of the Main Stage, created a sort of miniaturized chaotic labyrinth arranged within the boundaries of where the pit might be; prompting cold looks when trying to walk inbetween the small cracks and quite literally try not to kick up sand.

It’s an idea we are by no means against, but hope to say an area strictly for towels and those who wish to lounge, to make the experience easier for those who simply want to absorb all the sounds around, including that of 90’s staples, Switchfoot.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

One of the acts whose tracks speak for themselves, in terms of their legacy. They have crafted a bridge across a generation that still remains sturdy, and quite full. with frontman Jon Foreman going straight  off the stage and into the the crowd, leaning on supported hands and all with a smile as they began “The Sound”, a track that lives up to it’s name, and perhaps even doubly live.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

Truly one of the more underrated live acts, their set was on grand on all levels. And while smooth sailers like iconic “Stars” may have you momentarily swaying, don’t hesitate as the San Diego act covered Beastie Boys legendary “Sabotage” with their own brand of power.

And with this night slowly, and steadily coming to an end on a fluorescent tempo left by all the bands before them; a sun conducting it’s usual Once Upon A Time In The West sunset, one of the best full doses of the aforementioned international festival experience occurs, perhaps most notably by Catfish & The Bottlemen.

(Photo: Stephanie Vento)

The English act are regular arena and festival darlings performing on the over the seas circuit but still have yet to fully crack the US fully. Due to not only the unfortunate decline of alternative stations to gain airplay from, but moreover the lack of aforementioned festival experiences to truly experience them in, and which the act thrive on.

Opening to a full house on the shore with “Longshot”, it is goosebump inciting. There is a type of inexplicable boom, where the pounding red lights sync in time alongside their Arctic Monkeys-esque riffs.  A quiet explosion occurring during “Conversation”, where the rain once again answers from the sky, that you are watching something you may not see again.

You can feel the Earth shake softly with this type of epic energy and leaving one happily breathless, as this happens so scarcely.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

While US arenas are plenty in number, with a regular line-up of stunners occupying them, the rounds often feel a test of business grit at times; with the question always being always the seats themselves, and not those occupying them.

Near everyelsewhere, the chance is one of mettle. To reach that mantle is a feeling that is chased but only if you have the love to deliver it. The arena gig is not so much numeral based, but a near religious experience of dancing with a thousand other people whose ears are in love with the sound just as much as your own.

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

It’s an experience, and risk, that Riptide nailed beautifully, with Catfish concluding “Cocoon” alongside the rain and the sound dutifully ringing out after they exited.

It’s acts like these that prove just how vast the power of great live performances can be, and we’re grateful that the festival included this.

And as the rain finally, seemingly subsides, Jimmy Eat World enter in, and the band are one of the few that do not need introductions.

(Photos: Stephanie Vento)

Narrating a great part of the 90’s and 00’s rock, they were able to do so in the best of fashions. Much like their compatriots in Deftones and Foo Fighters, they have remained as they took their origins and evolved to something more than one genre could pen in. So too have the Arizonian act grown into something amazing, with every track is just as big in ambition as the next, each bearing their key insignia of chiming guitar riffs and Jim Adkins’ signature vocals.

(Photo: Stephanie Vento)

Opening with a steady set of their hits, including “Bleed American”, which we can say without shame we were dancing with reckless abandon to, they demonstrate that while the climates may have changed, their power in what they do has most certainly not, weaving together a structured and incredible set in the shape of “Pain” and showing the extent of their creativity in “555”, narrated in a blue wash with relatable lyrics and a digital swirl.

They, like all the acts featured in this year’s line-up, are still alight with the passion they started with. Perhaps one of the best moments expressing this being “23”; a Cure reminiscent slow burn that while delivered with that signature Jimmy Eat World bedroom intimacy, is built-up with intensity. Like watching a skyscraper being built in fast motion before your eyes, this is the breadth of what the act can do. Still craft, write and most importantly, perform these songs with the same beautiful level of delivery; even as a curtain of rain comes falling down.

(Photos: Stephanie Vento)

It’s a set of the ages, and one that, even alongside the weather, was magical in every sense of the word.

In a world that seems keen on twisting around the wheel, set on trying just how hard gravity can work, it’s these experiences that are so important. Not in just the terms of disappearing inbetween the notes, as the act close their impressive near 20 song set with infamous “The Middle”, but the necessity to keep the sparkle in your eyes and heart alive.

Recharging in the form of these allowances to remind you: you are not alone in the sound, or your fight, but that the crowd is full of people; all dancing to the same tune, dancing through the chaos.

(Photo: Stephanie Vento)

Whether that is with music, art, or should you really prefer, the intravenous fluid providers who true to their word, were there following the festival with eerie needles in the dark, Riptide reminds you; get caught in the waves every now and again. Some of the best things are found in it’s lit depths. Or, enough to get you through the ride, anyhow.

-Jenelle DeGuzman

See our exclusive live capture of Barns Courtney here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdqR8eLp6-g

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 12

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Writer’s note: I didn’t plan on this chapter becoming a monster at 2500 words, but here we are! Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this fic! You guys make my day :) 

He liked her cooking. Granted, it was only broth from a nearly fool’s proof recipe her mother had given her (along with the already cooked ham bone her mother also supplied), but it was an accomplishment Astrid was proud of. And Hiccup had liked it!

Astrid was determined to not fail at her wifely duties. She expected to have the same kind of pride that swelled her chest and jutted her chin high like when she did well in battle training. But it wasn’t the same. Her chest didn’t swell; it fluttered like a tiny nestling on it’s first flight. Her chin didn’t rise in pride; instead, her cheekbones warmed and a smile tugged the corners of her mouth.

All these sensations were new and exhilarating, and sometimes downright confusing and frightening. Even with the uncertainty of how to respond to the new conglomeration of emotions, Astrid knew she didn’t wish for them to end. All this over Hiccup-clumsy-sarcastic-little-dork-Haddock.

They sat around the firepit as they usually did most evenings sipping on a warm drink – their unspoken evening ritual. Tonight was different. Astrid was the one to bluntly show affection (out of her duties she’d been trying but failing to convince herself), but tonight, Hiccup called her something that was not her name.

Milady. She knew what the term of endearment meant. It wasn’t a term you called just anyone. Hiccup looked like a deer caught in the glowing yellow eyes of a dragon. She had to stop him from apologizing. His sorrys drove her crazy, and her mood was too light to have it fall.

“I like it,” tumbled out of her mouth. She couldn’t quite meet his eye as he accepted the mug from her.

A strange air rose up around them, like the electrical currents gathering for an approaching lightning storm. Astrid glanced at Hiccup from the corner of her eye. His jaw was set and a self-confidence emitted from him that she’d only witnessed when he would tout one of his latest inventions. A mission was on his mind.

As Hiccup wiped his mouth on his sleeve and relieved his grip on the mug, Astrid’s heart quickened. Come on, Hiccup. Make a move. Make a move. He was going to. She just knew it.

Astrid’s breath caught as the walls reverberated with the sound of the Great Horn. Her teeth clinched. Damn dragons! Why, tonight of all nights?

His disappointment wasn’t lost to her. He wished her safety. Astrid caught the opportunity to make up for their interrupted moment by catching his hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. Then she left, their lost moment lingering at the doorstep.  

***

Mass Chaos was one way to describe a dragon raid. The cacophony of battle cries and dragon roars, along with wood crackling and sheep bleeping in terror mixed in the air. The intense blaze of fire all around stung the eyes and made it hard to see.

Astrid dodged an annoyed Gronkle as it buzzed by, a Viking hanging from its neck smacking the beast with his hammer. She paused in the middle of the path to regain her bearings. She’d lived through dozens upon dozens of dragon attacks throughout her short 15 years of life, but this was her first to take up arms and fight since training began. The glory of battle was slowly fading into a blur of disorientation. Fire brigade duties were far simpler and straight forward.

Every chance she picked to help an older Viking, they’d yell at her to go help someone else. As soon as she arrived, the next Viking would send her on her way to another fight. It was getting to the point of ridiculousness. Astrid was almost tempted to give up and go help the new crew of the fire brigade. Almost.

Astrid Hofferson – Haddock, she had to remind herself sometimes – did not give up.

“Night Fury!” a cry rang out from the chaos.

“Get down!” another warning from somewhere across from her yelled.

The telltale eerie whistle of the Night Fury’s dive cut through the air causing every Viking to duck, knowing ultimate destruction was afoot. One catapult tower exploded in a massive fireball as shards of broken wood and fireballs rained down. Astrid ducked using her axe as a cover for her head, and regretting that she totally screwed up the first rule in dragon training. Grab a shield.

The Chief barked orders as he hastened passed her, simultaneously unscathed by the explosion he just survived. Astrid was about to follow her Chief – and father-in-law, another fact she also had to remind herself about – when a familiar cry echoed down. She whipped around. Silhouetted against the night sky was a small, skinny figure being chased by a Monstrous Nightmare.

Dread made her heart leap into her throat and her entire body quailed. There was no mistake of who was being mercilessly chased.

“Hiccup.”

Taking off into a mad dash, Astrid blazed up the paths, dodging Viking weapons and dragon teeth. She had to get to Hiccup before the Nightmare did. She had to save him.

She spotted his slim frame pressed against an enormous fire pillar trying to hide from the terrifying dragon in pursuit. Hiccup was good at epic fails and this hiding spot was one of them. A fierce dose of adrenaline shot through her. A battle cry erupted from her lungs. Her axe clutched in both hands above her head, primed to chop off the Nightmare’s head.

The fiery dragon focused its attention on the new threat, snarling and baring its teeth. Astrid swung down, missing its long neck as the Nightmare’s head swiveled snake-like out of reach. A stream of red-hot flames spewed at her. Astrid barely leap out of the way, tumbling head over heels on the ground.

Rolling to her feet, she crouched in a battle stance. Monstrous Nightmares were revered as one of the most dangerous dragons. If she killed this dragon, she’d gain high recognition within the tribe. Being the Chief’s daughter-in-law, they’d probably even throw a feast in her honor.

None of that fueled her need to kill this beast. Protecting Hiccup was her only focus.

The Nightmare whipped its tail, annoyed by the gnat that was buzzing between it and its current prey. The flickering flames of the torch above doesn’t provide the best lighting as it begins to burn down. Astrid merely blinked and a spiky tail was slapping at her like a gigantic fly swatter. The grip on her axe handle was knocked loose sending the weapon spinning out of reach.

Astrid cried out, holding her right hand close to her chest. A sharp spike on the tail grazed her skin, leaving a slice across the inside of her palm. There’s no time to nurse the wound. Her mind is flooded with panic. She was left exposed without her weapon on top of being wounded. She darted her eyes about the rocky path, spying her axe several feet away.

Her back was to the beast. She had no idea where it was about to strike, or even if Hiccup was safe. She moved toward her axe in a frantic crawl. Her body moved on its own accord, the adrenaline and panic pumping in burst through her.

Astrid barely registers the battle cry of her Chief, and she flipped onto her bottom to find he was already taking on the Nightmare. She scrambled to her feet to get out of the way of the fight. In typical Stoick the Vast form, he pummeled the beast with his bare fists before it slicked off into the dark sky.

The fire pillar Hiccup had taken refuge behind suddenly fell over, the basket of flames rolling down the hill as recovering Vikings jumped out of the way. It rolled over a net full of Nadders, releasing the dragons from their captivity. Every eye was on the retreating dragons carrying away their spoils.

“Sorry, dad.” It was Hiccup’s pitiful voice that cut through the thick tension in the vicinity. Astrid locked eyes on him. Thank Thor, he seemed unscathed, but what wrath the Nightmare didn’t unleash on him, his father was about to. 

 Hiccup chewed his bottom lip then pointed behind him. “Okay, but I hit a Night Fury. It wasn’t like the last few times!” he explained as his father yanked him along by the collar of his vest. “I really did hit it! You guys were busy and I had a clear shot. It went down just off Raven’s Point. We can get a search party out there.”

Astrid’s back rose and fell in a seething breath, not only from the exertion from the battle but the ire that was rising up inside her at Hiccup’s words. He hadn’t listened to her. He was still up to the same old routine with his haphazard dragon killing inventions that caused more damage than good. The revelation stung more than the gash on her palm.

“Stop!” Stoick’s voice boomed through the crowd. It shut Hiccup down in an instant. The Chief’s face was weary, and it wasn’t for lack of sleep or pushed endurance. “Just stop,” he repeated softer this time. “What were you thinking, Hiccup? You almost got yourself killed. Again. A good part of the village is on fire now because of you! Every time you step outside, disaster happens.”

“But Dad, listen! I really did shoot down a Night Fury!”

Stoick pressed a hand to his forehead, pushing up his helmet an inch. “I thought in the last few weeks you were getting passed all-“ he looked at his son and waved an open hand at him, “-this.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes as if the statement had been exhausted before. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Ignoring his son’s indignation, Stoick continued, “Winter is at our doorstep and I have an entire village to feed.”

Hiccup’s eyes flick behind him and he leaned in closer. “Between you and me, the village could use a little less feeding.”

“This isn’t a joke, Hiccup! Why can’t you follow the simplest orders?”

“I can’t stop myself. I see a dragon, and I have to just kill it. It’s who I am, dad.”

Astrid glanced away, shaking her head in secondhand embarrassment. If only Hiccup knew how ridiculous he sounded. How childish he looked mimicking something like ringing off an invisible dragon’s head. She nearly stormed off right then and there.

“You’re a lotta things, Hiccup,” the Chief’s tone was eerily calm, making him seem even more treacherous than if his yells were shaking the cliffs. “But a dragon killer you are not.”

Astrid froze. Stoick’s penetrating gaze suddenly landed on her. “Astrid! Make sure he gets home. I have his mess to clean up.”

For the first time since they bid each other’s safety at home, their gazes meet. Hiccup’s bottom lip was caught up by his top looking more like the disappointed little boy from years’ past. Gobber smacked him on the back of the head, softer than what the weathered blacksmith could dealt. Hiccup hunched over. His eyes fixed on the ground as he followed Astrid away from the crowd.

Whispers floated their way as they walked away. Astrid glared side-to-side from under the long fringe of bangs. The rest of the village had no right to glower pity at her.

“Quite the performance,” Tuffnut remarked as they passed by.

“I’ve never seen anyone mess up that badly,” Snotlout added onto the mockery.

Her ire helped Astrid bite her tongue trying not to lash out in defense. Hiccup deserved the taunting for his idiot decision. At least, that’s what the red-hot coal burning in her chest convinced her to think.

Hiccup trailed behind as they trekked through the ravaged village, dodging debris and sporadic fires being doused by the new members of the fire brigade. The tension in the silence between them felt like an invisible stone wall. Hiccup’s footfalls remained one step behind her. More than once she recognized the shift of his hand reaching out then falling to his side with a light thud.

As they approached their home, remarkably unscathed by the dragon attack (the dragons were more prone to targeting the houses with livestock), Hiccup finally worked up the courage. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

Astrid kept her back to him. It was hard enough being angry with him and also relieved that he was okay. “That’s what I’m here for,” she said bitingly, “To keep you from getting yourself killed.”

She didn’t give him a chance to response. She reached for the door handle of their home and gave a sharp hissed, completely forgetting about her injured hand in the heat of events.

“Hey, what happened?”

Hiccup tried to take her hand to check, but Astrid cradled it to her breastbone. “Just a cut. It’s nothing.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “If it’s nothing then why is your hand bloody?”

“The Nightmare clipped me, okay? I’m fine.”

He tried again to examine her hand, but Astrid maneuvered away. He was concerned and she hated him for it. He had no right to be after the promise that was broken tonight.

“At least let me clean it for you.”

“I can clean it myself.” She wanted so badly to yell. She probably needed to drop her axe before she used it to threaten him.

Hiccup gave a third try to take her hand, this time succeeding in catching her wrist. “Please, Astrid. Let me make this up to you for saving me back there.”

Astrid yanked her arm away. “You’ve done enough, Hiccup!” she finally burst. Hiccup blinked at her in surprise. “I thought you were done with your dragon killing inventions. I thought you’d finally decided to grow up and start taking responsibility like the future Chief should!”

“I am, Astrid! A future chief needs to be able to kill dragons, and this is my way of doing just that!”

“It’s the wrong way, Hiccup!”

“I can prove to you that my way works!” He gestured out into the darkness as if the proof was hidden just beyond the night. “I can prove to you that I can be the Viking you deserve!” He’s at it again, attempting to grab at her. The slice across her palm forgotten to him over his incessant need for approval. “Come with me and I’ll show you. I really did shoot down a Night Fury.”

“Stop!” The fierceness of her tone caused Hiccup to stand straight and abandon his task. “Give it up! You’re a blacksmith.” Her axe was pointing at him, and Astrid knew she should have set it down. “Accept that maybe that’s what you were made to be, and leave the dragon killing to me.”

“Astrid-“

She tried to ignore the hurt and disappointment written on his face. He dug this hole knowing exactly what he was doing. “I’m going to check on my parents, see if they need help.” She glared as slicing as her axe was sharp. “Just stay here. If you can’t listen to your own father then at least listen to your wife.”

@martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @justatranquilcloud  @saieras

[may-leeac]

The price of freedom

Pairing: Connor x reader

Warning: major character death

Summary: The mission was simple; Sneak onto the ship with the materials for the templars, destroy them and leave again. But then, something goes horribly wrong.

~

You and Connor were running through the night, heading for the Boston harbor. The moon was almost full, not a single cloud in the sky. When you took a quick break from jumping from house to house, you looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful night. But you didn’t come here to watch the stars today.

“You get faster every passing year, (Y/N).”

You turned around with a smile when Connor joined you on the roof, his hood up.

“Thanks to your training.” You replied with a smile that he returned.

A few years ago, you hadn’t even known about the Assassins and Templars. You had just been on a hunting trip with your family, when a group of thugs had attacked you. They had killed your father and brother in front of your eyes, before their hungry stares had gone to you.

In that moment, you had felt such utter hopelessness. You hadn’t known how to defend yourself. You had been certain you would die that day as well, after they had had their fun with you.

But then a stranger with a hood had rescued you and brought you to the homestead. He took you in when he had learned that you didn’t have a family anymore, training you with the other much younger novices despite your age. Over the years you had begun to trust each other and you had been able to proof to him that it has been the right decision to train you.

Now, one of the most important missions was put in your hands, you having been chosen to go with the master assassin on a mission to destroy most of the Templars materials they bought from overseas. It was an honour.

With a nod you went on, Connor always a little more ahead of you. When he made another impressive jump you couldn’t shake off the familiar feeling of admiration.

‘Stop it (Y/N), you are not the same naïve girl you were before. You know he could and will never return your feelings!’, you scolded yourself before following Connor to the docks.

There wasn’t a single soul out, except for the guards on the ship lying a bit more outside, your target.

The two of you quickly jumped into the water and swam to the ship, silently climbing up the sides. The two guards didn’t sense anything before your hidden blade pierced their neck.

You quickly hid behind a stack of boxes.

Connor and you made your way to the lower deck, always searching for a trap or anything that could stand in your way. There were only a couple more guards on alert before you reached the room with the supplies. It was easy. Too easy.

When you were just about to light up some more materials, the door shut close. Hidden behind another wall, you and Connor looked at each other. Of course it was a trap.

A dozen of guards came walking into the room, their guns ready to shoot. The man in their middle was familiar to you. It was one of the Templar leaders below their new grandmaster. If you could kill him as well, the Templars would take another great hit.

“We know you are hiding in here somewhere. We’ll find you.” The man spoke with a grin on his face. “Come out, come out little assassins.”

You looked at Connor again just as the guards began searching the room for potential hiding places. He was shaking his head.

“Maybe knowing that I have this little torch here will help you?” You could see the man taking something out of his coat. “And oh, look at that. Gun powder.”

Sudden realization ran through you. If the man lit up the powder, all of you would die. Of course, so would the Templar, the guards and the ship with the materials. But so would Connor.

You couldn’t let that happen. The brotherhood needed their leader...and you just couldn’t let Connor die.

You silently crawled over to Connor. But before you could say anything, he shook his head.

“You can’t seriously think what I think you are thinking, (Y/N). We can solve this in another way!”, he whispered, softly but firmly grabbing your arm.

You just smiled at him, while the guards walked near your hiding spot.

“You are the mentor, Connor. They all rely on you, you are too important to be sacrificed in this mission and you know that.” You looked him in the eyes. “Me on the other hand? I’m disposable.”

There was a flash of pain in his eyes that startled you.

“You are not-“

But you just smiled at him sadly.

“You know that I am. There is a loose wooden plank a few meters to the left of where we are right now. When I give the signal, use it to escape.”, you urged him to listen to you.

“So...I take that as a sign that you want me to blow up the ship? As you wish then.” The Templar said, while the guards came to a halt, looking at each other with worried expressions.

You had to act. Now.

“I love you.”, you said before running from behind your hiding place.

“There she is. Fire!”

Just when your blade unsheathed and you knocked down the first guard, you heard Connor kick the plank loose. With a smile you continued, knowing he would make it.

When the first bullet hit you in the chest, you didn’t even feel it at first. You had to distract them long enough so he could swim to safety.

When two other bullets found their way, you stumbled, the pain finally kicking in. With one last jump you grasped the torch out of the templar’s hand. The guards were all laying dead on the floor.

The Templar grinned. “That won’t help you much now.” He laughed.

You felt yourself getting hazy, but you managed to speak a few more words, pain blinding your vision.

“Enough to do this.”

With that, you jumped directly to where the Templar was standing. Right before the flames found the powder, you closed your eyes one last time.

You were dead before the explosion hit the ship.

~

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin: Ambush (Part 5)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. During a journey with other draenei, Pallas and Telurin become separated when orcs attack.

The vindicator dithers for several moments as he considers this quandary. Finally, he steps closer, still lit by his mace torch. “Grigore trusted you… But, I do not understand the reason you accompany that Anchorite. What is your motivation for doing so? Explain that to me first. I cannot work with a man I can’t trust, whether he be living or dead.”

Telurin laughs, a harsh sound that ends in a harsher cough. “As I was in life, so I am in death. I would not harm an Anchorite, or any servant of the Light, no more than you. As to why I am with that particular Anchorite, well, I also suspect it is similar to your reasoning for following Grigore, unless I mistake my mark.”

Motaanos's shocked scowl at Telurin's words is visible even in the low light of his torch. His facial expression morphs from horror, to revulsion, to questioning. "...Then he was your partner before you died." he queries, cautiously.

“You tread perilously close to impertinence, Commander.” Telurin says, voice flat even with the necromantic overlay. “I give you my word, on my living daughter’s life, that you and I have no argument between us. It will do neither of us good to be at cross purposes, and if you would be so kind to set the bones in my leg that have splintered, we will be able to go after them that much more quickly.”

Motaanos scowls still further, but steps closer, kneeling down on one hoof. "You call me impertinent, Creature, but I'm not the one with the audacity to pursue relations with an Anchorite from beyond the grave." He points at Telurin's cuisses and greaves. "Take those off, I refuse to touch your accursed armor."

Telurin snorts, but does as he’s asked, and removes the legguard and greave from his right leg. Where there should be a smooth curve of muscle and tendon to the death knight’s hock is instead a sharper dip, the front of the leg bowing out unnaturally. It would be extraordinarily painful for someone living. Telurin only frowns down at the injury.

Motaanos hesitates at the sight of the death knight's twisted leg. He seems terribly uncertain of the wisdom of helping Telurin at all. "It would be kinder to cover your corpse with dirt and let you rest in peace."

The vindicator makes a few aborted attempts to touch Telurin's leg, then finally outstretches a gleaming, gauntleted hand, calling the Light to Tel's broken bones.

“There are several who would disagree with you on that.” Telurin says tightly, feeling the Light like molten metal being poured onto the wound, more than he does the break itself. He feels the small snaps as the bone pulls back together from the greenstick fracture as well as when it starts to knit back together. He keeps his jaw clenched and is silent for the duration, unwilling to show more than he has to in front of Motaanos.

Motaanos also falls quiet as he heals. The silence is broken only by the tumbling water of the river, the chirping of crickets and frogs, and the sizzling crackle of the Light.

Once Telurin's leg is mended, the vindicator heaves himself up to his hooves. He steps over to a broken tree stump and settles himself down, rubbing sweat from his forehead.

"I can tell that you must have been a great warrior, in life." Motaanos nods over to the death knight. "Perhaps you were a vindicator, once. You seem to possess a greater sense of self than other death knights I have encountered. Some of them were my comrades, and friends, before their fall."

"Regardless." Motaanos shakes his head. "Even if it was by no fault of your own, you have been risen from the dead by necromancy. This necromancy, by its very nature, is vile. Those who are brought back under its power are changed. Corrupted."

The vindicator is quiet for a while. "As an Auchenai, your situation is deserving of compassion. Once I have retrieved Grigore, he may offer you the gift of a merciful rest. You may scoff at the idea now, while you have duties to fulfill. As a vindicator, I know this feeling all too well. But there may come a day when you welcome the return of your soul to the Naaru, and to the sacred life force."

Motaanos sighs, then rises. "I choose to believe those like you, who fell and were brought back, can return to the Light. It gives me peace of mind, when I think of our Commandry... Anyway. Can you stand?"

Telurin holds his tongue at the vindicator’s speech, though his tail flicks irritably. Sugarfoot, more in tune with his master’s moods, lays his ears back at Motaanos and squeals a challenge before Telurin can snap his reins and shake the undead stallion out of it. He gets to his hooves stiffly, but the mended break holds.

“When I choose my final death, it will not be your soul priest who gives it. Do not make assumptions about me when you know nothing. Go find your mount, Commander, I cannot wait for you otherwise.”

"Hmph. You're intolerable." Motaanos makes an offended snort, annoyed that he’s being ordered by Telurin yet again to do something. There's no point in arguing, however; it's plain to see that he will need a mount if they are to make any haste. The vindicator rises to his hoofs, scowling at Telurin, then marches off to find his elekk.

It at first seems like a hopeless case, as the beast could have charged anywhere, or even been wounded and slain by the orcs, who were notoriously unkind to elekks. Praying to the Light that he and Telurin were in fact alone and no enemies were near, Mot takes out an elekk drum and starts tapping it.

Motaanos had wandered off a ways into the woods, tapping his drum, when an elekk's broad face emerges from the leafy blackness in-between the trees. It appears much closer to Telurin than to Motaanos. It's an older-looking bull with tough, wrinkled hide, possessing only one tusk. The beast is still decorated in its elaborate vindicator's trappings.

The elekk snuffles. Its investigative snout reaches out towards Telurin's armor, and then his face, apparently deciding than an examination of this stranger is in order.

Motaanos, meanwhile, can be heard swearing loudly from somewhere in the opposite direction. He doesn’t appear to have noticed his elekk yet.

Telurin stays utterly still as the elekk inspects him, murmuring softly in draenei the sorts of soothing words the beast would be used to from his handlers. Sugarfoot lays his ears back and then steps back as the elekk reaches for him, and only then does Telurin reach for the beast’s reins, still talking slowly.

“Sa, sa, I think I know where your owner is, though why you came to me instead of him is anyone’s guess.”

The elekk doesn’t balk at his touch or his scent, further proof he belongs to an Auchenai, used to death. When he has a good grip on the beast’s reins, for the increasingly small chance it will startle when he calls out to Motaanos, he yells.

“Commander! You can stop beating that infernal drum, your mount is over here!”

“Blood and fury!” The vindicator returns, crashing blindly through the undergrowth in the night. He is pursued by a pack of chattering podlings, a voracious Draenor nuisance. Singly, they were not much danger towards armored draenei, being about the size of wild turkeys, but in packs, their fanged teeth and tiny spears could become a real concern.

Motaanos angrily punts one of the podlings into a group of his fellows as the creatures swarm around his legs. “Help me dispatch these things!”

Telurin’s expression tightens at the demand, but he touches Sugarfoot on the shoulder and says a harsh word to the horse, who leaps forward at the command and charges the group of podlings, trampling some and scattering the rest, giving Motaanos time to get some distance between him and the podlings and position himself so he and Telurin can provide a united front.

There’s no time for quippy replies, Telurin holds his sword at the ready in front of him. When the first couple of podlings are just in range, he twists the runeblade, the runes coming to life under the hoarfrost that permanently covers the blade. Ice crawls up the legs of the nearest three podlings, trapping them in place and making them easy targets for the edge of his sword. Once Motaanos reaches Telurin on foot, they fight back to back surrounded by the swarming nuisances. Unlike when they are arguing, in combat they are an effective team, able to coordinate their attacks in concert with one another. Motaanos blasts the podlings with explosive holy shocks, torching them from within in a grand show. Any of the creatures that approach too closely are slain with his golden mace. The vindicator's prickliness seems to enhance his mana use in combat, as his Light-based magic is lively and fierce.

After driving off at least a dozen podlings with holy and necromantic magic and attacks, the rest of the creatures suddenly lose their nerve. Their chattering turns panicky and they turn to flee, scrambling from the scene, only for Telurin to pull them back with his necromantic magics and slaughter the rest of them. In moments, it's silent, the pair of them surrounded by dead and dying podlings.

Motaanos takes a deep breath, pausing to lean on his mace. "That wasn't bad work," he remarks to Telurin, raising a brow. "You almost dispatched as many as me."

After that quip, he steps over to where his single-tusked elekk has been waiting. "We should make haste. The more we are delayed, the longer the Anchorites suffer at the hands of orcs."

The Vindicator’s continued attitude toward him makes Telurin’s tail flick in irritation, and he walks stiffly to Sugarfoot and mounts, swinging up into the saddle. “I will be able to sense when we get close to them, and a war band that size should be easy to track.” Telurin’s jaw is tense, his words are clipped, and he wheels Sugarfoot away from the creek bed and back up to the upper bank. The death of the podlings, barely sentient things, gave him some relief, and his ribs are better than they were when he woke, but Telurin wants the lifeblood of the orcs who took Pallas, and the lifeblood of their entire clan. The whole of his focus is on this outcome, and he has little time to spare for Motaanos’s jibes now that they have no other obstacles in their way.

Motaanos looks taken aback by Telurin's ruthlessness in choosing to slaughter the retreating podlings. He gives the death knight a wary sidelong glance before heaving himself into his elekk's saddle.

The vindicator trails a short distance behind Sugarfoot as the horse weaves through the woods. He takes the time to consider the death knight's apparent bloodthirst. 'Is he a danger towards the ones we are trying to save?' he wonders. 'That small priest he was with, may have never before been placed in a situation where his companion was truly in a rage. I shall have to watch him.'

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