1.
Dedicated to the readers who would rather maladaptive daydream about Park Jimin groveling over them than do their responsibilities. Prepare yourself for groveling Jimin and enemies to lovers...
Big thanks to the talented BUZZBANGTAN (on Wattpad for making the cover!
☂ CHAPTER 1 ☂
Captain Jeon was an asshole.
Jimin stared at his superior, his mouth hanging open as saliva threatened to pour out. He picked up his slacked jaw, swallowing what he could before straightening his shoulders. His mud-covered sneakers leaned back in the carpeted office, Jimin folding his hands behind him in an attempt to hide the clamminess from Captain Jeon.
“But sir, I transferred with the intention of working alone. By giving me a partner, especially a rookie,” Jimin said, almost spitting out the single word. “You’re making my reason for coming here completely meaningless.”
“Not everything’s about you,” Captain Jeon said from his spot behind his mahogany desk. There was a computer propped up on Captain Jeon’s left side, the screen brighter than the broken light planted inside the ceiling above them. “We’re understaffed and crime is rising. Any recruits we have, we need to take. Sorry Officer Park, but we don’t have many left to train her. It’s either that or leave her on her own.”
“I’m sure she’d be fine.” At Captain Jeon’s glare, Jimin backed up and almost hit one of the two cushioned black chairs behind him. “Okay, I’ll train her. But you should know better than anyone that this won’t go well.”
“You need to leave Busan behind you,” Jungkook said, sighing and turning off his computer. He brushed aside the piles of paper on his desk, leaning on his elbows as if to come closer to Jimin. “I did. It’s your turn. You can tell yourself whatever bullshit excuse you want, but we all know why you really left Busan. Stop pretending. Who knows, maybe you’ll like your new partner.”
Jimin snorted as he adjusted the top button of his dark uniform, feeling the little string that was poking out, causing his button to remain loose. “Yeah right. I bet I’ll like her as much as I like spinach.”
“You’re hilarious. If you ever want to get promoted to detective, you’ll learn to do what I say.”
“Famous Busan police officer,” Jimin mumbled. “Can’t even get promoted to detective in America.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sir. Is there anything else you need help with?”
Jungkook rubbed his nose with his long fingers. Even under the broken, flickering light of Jungkook’s office, Jimin noticed the pale scar on the tip of Jungkook’s index finger.
“Unless you can magically come up with the names of the local gang leaders, no. I’m going on stakeout tonight near a red zone. If you could, please try to make my life easier today. You’re dismissed,” Jungkook said. His voice was heavy yet weak at the same time. There were cracks dancing around the depths of his tone, and his bunny-like eyes had bags under them as his wavy, black locks curtained his face. It seemed as though he hadn’t gotten a haircut in months.
Jimin went to the door, but he stopped as soon as he put his hand on the knob with chipped paint. “Jungkook?” Jimin asked as he turned his head. Jungkook met his gaze. “조심하세요 (Be careful).”
Jungkook’s frown deepened, and Jimin deflated. He couldn’t pinpoint why Jungkook’s mood darkened after Jimin used their native tongue; he thought it would be a comfort. To Jimin, it always was.
Jimin left the office and entered the main complex. Working at 1PP made him die a little on the inside, but he knew it would be a challenge. The bright lights of the interior contrasted the broken one inside Jungkook’s office. The desks were nicer, the ceiling, walls, and floors were a pristine white, and the computers had the cliché navy blue background with the NYPD badge floating in the middle.
The corridors he traversed had arches that showed Jimin the inside of the offices meant for higher-ups. Inside said offices, there were screens mounted on the walls with charts and graphs depicting the crime rates, most wanted posters, and results from the forensics team on old cases. It felt so empty, yet so full of life at the same time. He could hear the laughter from the officers as they drank their morning coffees and gagged because of how hot they were. It wasn’t quite the same as South Korea.
Back in Busan, Jimin was a hotshot officer with a near-perfect record. He was given high profile cases and solved them without breaking a sweat. However, NYC was different. Not only were there rats the size of Jimin’s head, but there was always a stench that sat in the air. It smelled of burnt hot dogs mixed with melted cheese. It seemed to follow him even when he wandered the City’s streets.
Jimin ignored everyone and went on his way, going down the elevator that squeaked a little every time it hit a new floor. The basement called his name as he made his way to it, which was where he did his work. As he entered, he was whacked in the face with the smell of pepper spray. It caused his eyes to burn. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the smell or the horrifying sight of the peeling yellow wallpaper.
His office space was a shared one. Unlike Jungkook, Jimin didn’t have the privilege of having a private office. Most officers didn’t. Jimin’s community office had less light than the entire complex. There were boxes crowding the second half of the already cramped room. There were only six desks, and they were connected to each other. Every time Jimin sat down, he’d see his co-worker.
Luckily, he liked his co-worker.
“박지민 (Park Jimin)!” came an energized shout from the pile of boxes. A head full of fluffy, brown hair popped up. With his long pinky, the man pushed up his thick-framed glasses. Jimin had his police uniform on, but his co-worker opted for a checkered shirt and dark pants that matched the color of his glasses.
“Hobi,” Jimin replied with a chuckle. Of the six available spaces in the office, only three were being used. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seulgi. Seulgi was MIA, not that Jimin cared.
Hoseok sprinted out from the boxes and knocked two over in the process. In a flash, Jimin found himself getting a warm hug from the man who had been going to the gym every day. As much as Jimin was fit, Hoseok had muscles the size of Jimin’s entire body. It caused him to choke as Hoseok squeezed him. Jimin couldn’t tell if he was into it or not.
“Your new partner is here,” Hobi said in a sing-songy tone.
Jimin let out a groan that seemed to break the sound barrier. “Tell me my new partner is a black coffee paired with a donut? Bonus points if that donut has rainbow sprinkles.”
Hoseok backed away with a sheepish smile. “Sorry bud.”
Jimin could breathe again. He pulled on his tie and adjusted it. He didn’t have a hat. Hats hid his precious hair that he adored more than he adored donuts-
“My partner box-dyed his hair blonde?” a female voice asked.
Jimin stiffened, and Hoseok threw his hand over his mouth as his eyes crinkled. He seemed like he was going to pass out from having to hold his laughter. Jimin shifted his position and saw a woman leaning against the wall. She was in the corner, and like Jimin, she didn’t have a hat. She had a uniform identical to his, only her badge glistened in the dim light. Jimin’s hadn’t done that since Busan.
“It’s professional dye,” Jimin said in a hiss. “I won’t tolerate hair slander.”
“Your hair is the last thing you need to worry about. Your fly’s down.”
Jimin huffed and zipped it up, not caring that she was staring at him. Her eyes were clear and sharp, with no bags sinking them down. Her skin appeared smooth, but she had a single mole resting under her nose.
As she stepped into the light, Jimin could see her uniform was too big for her. The spare fabric bounced off her wrists. Her left one had a bracelet. It was gold. Jimin noticed there was a name engraved on the rectangular piece of jewelry. However, he couldn’t read it since it was in cursive. Not that it mattered: there were thick black gloves on her hands that made the bracelet hard to see.
“Park Jimin, I presume?” she asked, and Jimin clicked his tongue.
“My new partner, I presume?”
Much to his amazement, she grinned. She had a crooked tooth that looked like his. Despite her smile, she never offered him a handshake.
“My name is Y/n L/n, and guess what? We just got our first case together.”
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DISCLAIMER: This fanfic is meant for an 18+ audience. There will be violence, profanity, sexual/offensive humor, mature themes, alcohol and drug use, death, talks of mental issues (such as depression), racism, sexual themes/content, and more. I will not be putting warnings before chapters, so if you have triggers with any of what was listed, please do not read this story.
This work is purely fiction. Although the characters and settings are based on real life people, places, and even some events, it is still a fictional work. Do not confuse this fiction with reality.
I am not a cop. Although I live in New York and can accurately write about the ins and outs of the City, there will be inaccuracies with the way the police department is handled. I did research to make it more realistic, but for the sake of the narrative, elements will be stretched if not completely fabricated.
You have been warned. Any comments or critique that deals with things stated in this disclaimer will be deleted. I.e., if you complain about an inaccuracy in how NYPD is handled, or you cry about the maturity of this story.
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