#My Chemical Romance Behind the Cover Shoot

[mynameisnottravis]

Let me introduce you guys to, Pluto angst.

Pluto is our funky little emo my chemical romance listener but so many times in this series has this WET CAT of a human being made me want to SOB.

Example number 1:

Episode 15

The people that he most likely put some trust into basically sold him off to strangers, instead of a certain brunette. (cough ada) And seeing how they reacted to Lenore and company, they probably saved Plutos life. Just for him to later be traded to some strangers that could have really bad intentions

EXAMPLE NUMERO DOS

Episode 34

Eulalie, the girl Pluto has a crush on is talking about a dolls cracked eye, "But even still, she's pretty in her own way, don't you think?" As it shows the crack over her eye. Pluto is hiding behind Duke, specifically his wounded eye. The person he fancies is indirectly telling him his scar is beautiful, the one he purposely went out of his way to hide, when in episode 83, before DYING. He never covered his eyes, ever.

He actually had it somewhat slicked back.

He's insecure about his scar and eulalie saying the cracked doll was pretty probably made him feel a certain way. (straight 4 eula 🗣️🔥🔥🔥)

EXXAAAANMMMPLE NUMBER THREE!!!

He just wanted to see the lights. And his eye was taken for it.

Him trying to shoot Montresor, with confidence, happiness, thinking that him being the human equivalent of those prickly plant balls that stick to your clothes and stab you, will come to an end, but when he pulled the trigger nothing happened, he felt so much hopelessness, so much intense dread, that he remembered his eye being taken away, just because he wanted to see the lights.

Similar to Montresor hurting his friends, just because they wanted to live.

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

I am officially back with some big surprise for you guys

I have came up with the perfect comic cover ideas for the upcoming Mighty Solars fanfic stories coming soon, except one is done which is Taken Away from Me, something you guys might find being enjoyable to do someday:

So here are the Solar Opposites: Mighty Solars comic ideas:

Issue #1- “A Mighty Solar”: On the top, it shows five shaded silhouettes of the five Mighty Solars Qausarblast, Mighton, Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-irl and the Mighty Pupa while the bottom shows Korvo courageously getting out his lethal force sword while being a foggy setting with clouds surrounding him.

Issue #2- “Quasarblast Rises”: Korvo transforming into Qausarblast for the first time with a serious look on his face while the background shows lecture light aquamarine lightening sparks.

Issue #3- “Nice to Do Things as a Family”: Korvo as Qausarblast coming home tiredly with groceries in his hands while Terry was looking at him confused, Yumyulack and Jesse were playing laser tag, Pupa was playing with his baby toys and Phoebe was vacuuming the floor while she is humming lovely tune.

Issue #4- “Fighting for Family”: Terry, Yumyulack, Jesse and Pupa cheering for Qausarblast fighting a bad guy on the news on TV with Phoebe also watching the news, smiling.

Issue #5- “Alien’s Night Out”: Located at a block party with Korvo blushing while looking at Terry enjoying the party with a pair of red eyes looking at them far away.

Issue #6- “Nightmare Part. 1”: Qausarblast looking around curiously in a dark foggy giant spider webbed area.

Issue #7- “Nightmare Part. 2”: Terry gooblering and whimpering in his sleep since he is having a nightmare as the bedroom becomes foggy and it shows the shadow of Platinum Belt looming and watching over him evilly above the wall.

Issue #8- “Love, Loss and Double Cross Part. 1”: Terry puts his hands on his head and screams in pain, while a giant version of Sarah possessed by Platinum Belt is shown above trying to control his mind.

Issue #9- “Love, Loss and Double across Part. 2”: Qausarblast crying over Terry as he holds his mind-raped husband as Terry’s eyes are still open and glowing white while Platinum Sarah prepares to attack from behind to attack him. Inspired by this: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/powerrangers/images/d/d9/MMPR_Issue_26_Final_Cover.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20180412102509

Issue #10- “Mighton’s Requiem”: Terry painfully transforms into Mighton for the first time as he screams in fury, but it’s not monstrous. Just normal superhero transformation. Inspired by this: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/sonic/images/2/21/StH_265_Cover.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20190727210042

Issue #11- “My Hero”: Qausarblast and Mighton staring lovingly and smiling at each other in this My Chemical Romance-style cover, inspired by this:  https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Cheers_for_Sweet_Revenge#/media/File:Three_Cheers_for_Sweet_Revenge.png

Issue #12- “Trouble in the City”: Qausarblast and Mighton looking around the city for any trouble in sight, while green slime is oozing from their mouths and their bellies swelling up.

 Issue #13- “Knothole Fury”: The Solar Opposites and Phoebe, while wearing their pajamas, looking worriedly at a giant fortress with a giant fence over it.

Issue #14- “Fight Night”: Yumyulack, with a black eye, walking through the lockers as his normal grumpy self with torn up posters of a resistance that is falling apart is shown.

Issue #15- “Pride Goes Before the- AAAAAHHHHHH”: Yumyulack screaming as his eyes started to shoot laser beams out of it for the first time as Jesse and the school kids watch in fear.

Issue #16- “Losing Yumyulack”: Yumyulack, wearing a backpack full of his favorite things for a bounty hunter himself, is tearfully looking back at his family’s house while Qausarblast and Mighton watch from up on the house roof, worriedly.

Issue #17- “End of the Dance Line”: Yumyulack as Vil-Gil-An-T watching Mark, from outside far of the window, lovingly.

Issue #18- “Hunt Off”: Qausarblast, Mighton and Vil-Gil-An-T hiding from behind the cough as the female bounty hunter villain starts looking for him.

Issue #19- “Darkness Falls”: The nine possessed monsters as shadows watching over Earth-4 as the bottom shows Jesse walking with Monica while laughing with her like besties do.

Issue #20- “Cheer Up Jesse”: Jesse crying on her bed with her family and Phoebe comforting her as the background shows fungus flowers growing on Jesse’s bed stool.

Issue #21- “Just Have a Little Fung-Irl”: Jesse transforms into Fung-irl for the first time as she soars happily while growing a fungus from her hand.

Issue #22- “Who’s That Girl”: Jesse hiding from behind the school door which shows a teenage villainess mind controlling Monica and the rest of their classmates as her pink eye glowing zombies.

Issue #23- “Little Pupa Lost”: The Solar Opposites desperately looking for Pupa. The expressions on the family shows Korvo hugging Terry in worriedness while Terry is crying, Yumyulack is desperately putting up “Missing Pupa” posters and Jesse keeps calling out for the Pupa tearfully.

Issue #24- “The Mighty Pupa”: The Mighty Solars hugging the Mighty Pupa in joy.

Issue #25- “The Misadventures of Pupa”- The Mighty Pupa standing up to a candy-themed villain holding Sherbert hostage.

Issue #26- “That’s A Kid Thing”: Qausarblast and Mighton tied up and gagged at the upper shaded part while the bottom shows Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-irl and Mighty Pupa ready for action.

Issue #27- “Rock Fraud”: A rock n roll villain taking Mighton’s voice away with a voice sucker.

Issue #28- “A Horrifying and Fucked Up Betrayal”: Phoebe enraged by Brea’s betrayal after she knock out Korvo and Terry on the floor.

Issue #29- “Starburst Rises' ': Phoebe turning into Staburst for the first time while doing a Wonder Woman stand.

Issue #30- “Fantasies Are Just Fiction”: A young woman and robot looking at a crystal ball that shows an image of Qausarblast sleeping in a meadow full of flowers and grass.

Issue #31- “Aliens vs. Robots”: Yumyulack and Jesse exchanging nervous awkward looks at each other after the robot beats up some schoolmates of theirs while Principal Cooke and Miss Frankie hid behind them.

Issue #32- “Taken Away from Me”: Already Done

Issue #33- “Lifeline”: Monica transforming into Lightspeed as she uses her super speed while the citizens watches her in confusion

Issue #34- “Creature of the Dark Water”: Nova getting taken by a monstrous scaly black blue hand into the dark indigo river at a dark swamp as she screams in terror while Korvo. Terry and Phoebe with Cherie, who is holding Pezlie in her arms, and Montez watches in horror from behind the trees.

I hope you guys love these comic cover ideas, you guys can choose each one that you want, except for Issue #32 which has already been done by someone. But, please take your time because I know how much some of you guys have college and other stuff to work on, and I want to be mindful. Like I say, it’s free to make these covers! But I want to be mindful and wait for that to happen, because I want to you guys to continue your works too. So, please let me know when you have gotten started on a comic cover, and if you enjoyed it. I am so glad to be back with you guys! I love you all so much! 💕 so let me know when you have gotten started on a comic cover idea that you like from there. Love ya! Solar Opposite for life! 🩵🧡💜🩷💚

[whilomm]

🎶✨ when u get this u have (the option) to put 5 songs u actually listen to. then send this ask or tag 10 of your friends/followers/just some guys you feel like if you feel like✨🎶

okay fine both @vanadiumbean and @deneviere tagged me uhhhh fuck what do i Listen To lets see

Hard Travelin' Hootenanny- Orig by Woody Gutherie, been listening to the recording from the "til we outnumber em" album feat like everyone.

this ones from a cd that I didnt read well enough and thought was woody, but its actually a live tribute concert w a lotta musicians covering his stuff (bruce springsteen, annie defranco, rambling jack elliot, etc) and it rocks. first track is a cover where everyone in the concert takes a bit of the "hard ramblin". i need to listen to more folk lmao. Turns out i dont love woodys own recordings (his voice just aint for me!) but i LOVE his songs as theyre covered

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet- Fall Out Boy

i have a legal right to be cringe and for that im choosing the fall out boy double cuck song. fucking sue me. but only after you listen to patrick stumps dulcet cuckception. BE GLAD IM NOT MAKING THIS ENTIRE LIST FALL OUT BOY I CAN BE 10X MORE CRINGE THAN THIS. not my fave fob song (that would probs be either legendary or pavlov), but its good.

Rowboat- Johnny Cash, original by Beck

ill be HOME...with the gasoline. youll be STOOOONNNEED, youll be far away

I was surprised to learn not only was this not originally by cash, the original by beck was already a country song! the story behind it is kinda fun (he wrote it in like 5 minutes on the way to the studio just bc he wanted to record SOMETHING with a steel guitar player he saw) and in the vid beck gets kinda emotional hearing cash complement him, its kinda sweet.

Mama- My Chemical Romance

the song that got me into MCR. I don't sing along at concerts usually, but i was fucking belting this one when i saw them. its a difficult choice but this is probs my fave MCR song. listen i know everyone loves black parade but i confess i sometimes skip it when im not in the mood. mama though? never fucking skip.

Some Kind Of Nature- gorillaz

this is one of those one songs i kinda hated the first time i heard it, the creaky ass voice of lou reed and the switch offs between gentle and kinda goofy beats. but after a couple of listens i think something inside me changed mentally. the beep boops shoot straight to my heart. that one "scream". all we are.... is stars

if anyone gives it a listen and they hate it too like. give it a bit then listen again. see if it does something to You too.

....anyway this was fucking hard. do yall know how many more songs i wanted to put here. goddamn.

uhhh semi random tagging bc i forget literally everyone just. scrolling my followers list for names, idk @the-fearful-one @the-interabang @ahmallama @c3rvida3 @unclekow @al-ghoul @sassybitchymouse @voidilite-singularis god i need to clear out the pornbots again theres so many here @queennannygoat @fattpikachuu

ignore the tag if yall feel like it, i aint yalls boss

[connerluthorkent]

Stacking the Deck

The first part of a Jerome/Five fic I was working on this summer. Originally, I envisioned this being a longer piece, but I'm not sure I will ever follow-up on it, and I still feel this first part works as an ominous little standalone. I have enough I could complete a second chapter that features Jerome waking up, so, if there's any interest, maybe I'll clean that part up and post it too! Regardless, I hope any readers out there enjoy this little glimpse of gothic not-quite romance.

AO3 link here

“514A?” the Professor drawls, stepping into the threshold. “What exactly are you doing out here?”

The Professor had tried, early on, to give him another name. Remus. Pollux. Gemini. Cain, once, jokingly, which had caused Five to clench his fist so hard around that the glass vial of cryogenic fluid he was helping the Professor test had shattered, covering him in chemicals as blood oozed from his palm. He hadn’t even noticed until the Professor had let out a startled cry and rushed over to try and save the formula now dripping all over the floor.

The liquid had been unsalvageable, but the Professor never tried to call him Cain again.

Five didn’t like them, the other names. Any of them. Refused to answer, when the Professor called them out. Eventually, he had given up, reverted to calling him by the serial number they had used at Indian Hill.

Five had been 514A and Five and Bruce. The middle had been the only one that truly felt like his. That made him feel like himself.

The Professor didn’t use that, only 514A. The name he had given to Five.

Five didn’t like that, either, but he answered it all the same.

In answer to Dr. Strange’s question, Five tilts his head towards the small television set positioned on a gurney positioned above where he sits cross-legged on the cold concrete floor.

“Watching,” he explains.

As he shovels peanuts into his mouth, eyes glued to the screen, Jerome Valeska frolics across the stage of the Gotham Music Festival, pale coat flaring as he spins.

The TV, salvaged from one of their late night dumpster dives behind Wayne Industries labs, had perked Five’s interest the moment he spotted it. He had hoisted it up for the Professor to see the moment he asked what had distracted him.

Dr. Strange had hummed his ascension, gesturing for Five to add it to their pile of scavenged goods.

“That is a valuable find,” he had added, a bewildering hint of praise seeping into his voice that nevertheless made Five’s stomach clench. “It never hurts to stay well informed, my boy.”

The sound of Jerome’s voice, grumbling and rough, draws Five back to the moment.

Five had been privy to Jerome’s exploits in the past, hearing whisperings of his shenanigans amongst Kathryn and other members of the Court the night of the city-wide blackout, but he had seen him once before, in person.

Well. So to speak. Jerome had been amongst the experiments, under lock and key in one of those refrigerated tubes the Doctor kept fresh specimens in, the night Five had escaped Indian Hill alongside Ms. Mooney and the other “monsters.” He still recalls the outline of his profile hazily, red hair wild like a flame, a rictus grin spread across his face before his followers had cut it off.

Something strange flares in Five’s chest as listens to Valeska demand the GCPD hand over his brother and Bruce again, that firebug behind him shooting a flaming spark into the sky. Five’s limbs go cold, as though he’s about to break into a sweat, and then the feeling spreads, creeping up his spine and buzzing just beneath his skin.

Adrenaline. Anxiety. Anticipation.

“Ah. I see,” Dr. Strange says, attention rapt in spite of the dismissive, amused ring to his voice. “I can see why your attention might be…diverted. I suppose I shouldn’t be expecting your assistance much today, then?”

“No,” Five says, curt, eyeline never wavering from the television set.

The Professor clicks his tongue but leaves him to it, retreating into the makeshift lab to continue working on his experiments, as he does every day.

Five sits like that for hours after, his limbs growing stiff though the numbness never registers, as he watches it all unfold. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating.

Bruce and Jerome’s twin arrive on the scene with Captain Gordon and Lucius Fox in tow well over an hour after Jerome’s initial demand, the music having taken an impatient turn as the clock ticked on. Five remembers Gordon and Fox passingly from brief encounters at the Manor during his stay there in Bruce’s stead.

Five watches as Bruce cuts a path to the stage, crowd parting around him, shoulders back and head high. Bruce has always been shrouded in a steely, almost-haughty air of dignity, and Five sees that hasn’t changed much. He looks older, though, than the last time Five saw him, taller than he remembers, with broader shoulders and a firmer jaw.

Five shakes out his arms, the graying hoodie he could once curl easily over his fingers cutting off abruptly at his wrists.

They both have, he guesses.

Jerome’s brother, who shares his face and, on the surface, little else, with his tortoiseshell glasses and slicked down hair, seems far more reluctant than Bruce to join Jerome up on the stage. He creeps through the crowd with a heavy sort of resignation settled around his stiff shoulders, like a man being led to the executioner’s block.

And maybe he’s not too far off the mark, given the trigger-controlled bombs Jerome straps around both his and Bruce’s necks once the snipers the GCPD had on guard are out of the way.

The contrast between Jerome and Jeremiah is even more marked with the pair of them sitting side-by-side. Jerome, wild and grinning in his cartoonish white gloves and plaid suit, commands the stage with his presence, ever-the-showman, while Jeremiah remains rigid in his buttoned-up navy peacoat, jaw clenched tightly and daggers in his eyes everytime he looks at his twin. Five’s eyes flick to Bruce, stoic and silent at Jerome’s other side, the furrow of his brow the only real indicator of his quiet, cultivated fury.

Bruce’s ensemble is entirely monochrome–black peacoat, turtleneck, and gloves made from what Five has no doubt are made from the finest wool and cashmere and leather money in Gotham can buy. Every garment has been pulled from the very same closets Five had once dressed himself in, shoes from the same rack as the shabby Oxfords Five now has stuffed under his cot. Studying him, it is at once easy and impossible for Five to imagine himself in Bruce’s place. He wonders, if he was sitting at Bruce’s side now, what differences–aside from their wardrobe–the audience would note between them.

If anyone would even be able to tell them apart.

As Jerome monologues about parents picking favorites and the numerous privileges Jeremiah grew up with that he was denied, mockingly calling his brother little Mr. Perfect, Five feels his own back teeth grind together reflexively. And his breath catches when Jerome puts the knife in Jeremiah’s hand and taunts him about his killer instincts, egging him on to let them loose.

The strangled cry Jeremiah lets out as he lunges at his twin suggests all the fury Jerome claims he’s been suppressing but with very little finesse, and Jerome takes him down easily with one well-placed punch to the jaw.

However, the exchange proves to be just enough of a distraction. Between tormenting his brother and the GCPD taking out his men, Jerome fails to notice Gordon slinking through the crowd, long enough for the police captain to get his shot in.

Chaos unfolds from there.

The crowd scatters, Bruce takes out the resident Firebug, and Jerome disappears down a back alley with Gordon hot in pursuit.

It’s closing in on dusk when the news anchor with the coiffed updo finally comes back on air, confirming the rumors that have been swirling since shortly after Gordon went after Jerome.

“Sources inside the GCPD have confirmed that terrorist Jerome Valeska has died on the scene...for a second time.”

“Interesting,” the Professor murmurs from somewhere over Five’s head.

The noise makes Five start from his long-held position, the doctor having returned to the room at some point without him noticing. When Five swivels his head to look up, he finds Strange absently wiping down the beaker in his hand, eyes bright and alert behind his red-tinted glasses.

“Very interesting.”

Jerome Valeska’s funeral had finally taken place the previous week, and then snatches of his followers’ colorful wake at the Gotham precinct had been broadcast over the airwaves earlier in the day.

“Go to Gotham cemetery,” Strange had instructed, handing over his equipment, “retrieve the body. Or at least…whatever is left of it.”

The day had been overcast, and the light drizzle slicks Five’s jacket, the hood pulled up both against the rain and to hide his face from any potential onlookers.

The Wayne family mausoleum stands, grandiose and sedate, at one corner of the cemetery, dwarfing even similarly impressive crypts. Five crosses hastily in front of it without even sparing it a glance, having resisted the impulse since he had stopped and stared for one long, bracing moment the first time Strange had sent him on one of these quests to aid in his experiments.

(What Five doesn’t know is that Thomas and Martha Wayne are buried miles away from here, in the family plot on the grounds of Wayne Manor. It wouldn’t matter anyway, even if he did. They aren’t his parents, after all. They never have been.)

Locating the grave is easy enough. It’s open, the strewn dirt and misshapen hole making it clear whoever had done the digging had done so in a rush, ravaging the plot to get at the corpse as quickly as possible. Some more members of Jerome’s cult, Five assumes.

The body lies, curled in on itself, at the bottom of the grave.

Easiest extraction Five has had in a while. He unzips the black body bag on the muddy ledge with one quick tug, then slides down the side and drops into the dark cavern below.

He cradles the clownish criminal’s corpse easily against his chest, lifting him up and gently placing him flat on his back on the solid ground of the cemetery, and then quickly scrambles back over the steep dirt wall himself, his work boots digging into fresh clay to stabilize him.

Back topside, Five slips Jerome’s body into the cadaver bag with ease. Before he closes the plastic, he pauses for just one moment to study him. Five takes in the gray pallor of his skin, then reaches up and traces the rough stitching around his forehead with his fingers, the pad of his thumb meeting resistance as it runs along scar tissue.

He can’t properly identify the feeling that washes over him as he peers down curiously at this fallen terror of Gotham, cold and dead.

A faint hint of confused horror dawns as he realizes it’s closest cousin seems to be sadness.

With a rough yank, he tugs the zipper shut, then hefts the bag over his shoulder, making sure not to let the end drag the ground. His strength comes in handy in these endeavors for the Professor.

As he makes his exit, he spots a few mourners or loiters littering the hallowed ground. Worried it might be some of Jerome’s cultists back for their messiah, he picks up the pace, but it ultimately proves unnecessary. If any of the figures in the distance see him, they look right through him. Apparently, a spindly teenage boy carrying a large, body-shaped mass through a cemetery at nearly midnight isn’t enough to draw attention.

The lack of resistance fits in with a larger pattern. Five has done this for Dr. Stranger handful of times in the past, and not once has he ever been stopped. Years of experience mean Gothamites know better than to ask questions.

The learned apathy makes grave robbing a surprisingly easy Gotham pastime.

Without so much as a backward glance at the shapes out in the darkness, Five cuts across the graveyard and swiftly disappears into the stormy night.

“Good work, 514a,” Strange praises when he returns home.

There’s a strange sort of gleam to his eye as he begins prepping the body for the cryo chamber.

It’s late, the evening hours spilling into morning, but still far from daylight. The Professor is fast asleep. Five isn’t.

He doesn’t sleep much. He naps a few hours here or there, lightly and never for any longer, startling at any small sound and creeping around in the darkness most nights. Catlike.

Would have thought that’d make Selina more fond, he thinks bitterly, jaw clenching.

Whether his restlessness comes down to biological programming, the guardedness he learned at Indian Hill, or simply disposition, he’s never really been sure.

He doesn’t try to fight it. He likes the cover of night, those early morning hours. It’s quiet. Peaceful.

Jerome has been with them for a few days, housed in a cryo chamber the Professor had managed to swipe from the Wayne Enterprises storage unit where all the Indian Hill equipment had been dumped to rot. Dr. Strange keeps the body stored in one of the spare offices off the main lab space, presumably for concealment against immediate discovery should they be raided.

No such disruption has happened yet, but Strange has regaled him with stories of past interference from Fish Mooney, the GCPD, and nameless others to impress upon Five the necessity of the precaution.

Five slinks into Jerome’s room as silently as possible, doing his best to avoid discovery even though he isn’t quite sure why. There is no space in their laboratory safehouse Dr. Strange has explicitly forbidden him from going.

Still, he curls his fingers around the edge of the door to make sure it closes quietly, then creeps up to the edge of the glass container expressly created to preserve the fresh corpses of Indian Hill, peering down into it.

Five had made it a habit over the last few days, even if he did his best to conceal it, sneaking in here to stare down at Jerome’s gray, ghostly face for brief snatches of time. Though he was no stranger to the concept of mortality, Five still found the stillness, the silence, the stiffness of a corpse worth turning over and pondering.

In death, Jerome wasn’t smiling, despite the cackling countenance he had perpetually worn in every spare bit of news footage Five had caught of him. Jerome alive had seemed larger than life, in vivid, clashing technicolor. Now, it was as if all the color had seeped out of him, leaving behind a fading photo developed in black and white.

Fascination. That was the emotion that stirred up in Five’s chest, a series of words flashing through his head like a rolodex until he finally put a name to it.

Little of Five’s life had been his own. He was Bruce Wayne’s clone, and the Court’s intention for him had always been to fulfill that position as he was needed and then be discarded when he was no longer of use. Dr. Strange had spared him from that inevitable fate but taken him up as his assistant for his efforts.

So these spare moments away from the prying eyes of the Court and the Professor felt like a secret, shared between him and the dead. It wasn’t as if Jerome was in a position to give him away.

Five presses a hand to the cool glass of the chamber and stares down at Jerome’s face, images flashing across his mind.

Jerome, pressing a blade to Bruce’s throat at the Gotham Children’s Hospital gala magic show, the footage Five learned had been played over and over in the days after his death, a staple of the cult that would eventually form around him.

Jerome, kidnapping Bruce and taking him to the Boardwalk Circus on his night of madness, the evening reconstructed in his mind from newspaper clippings and grayscale photos and hushed conversations between members of the Court the evening he had plunged everything into darkness.

Jerome, as Five had first caught him live on the Gotham News Network, taking over the music festival at Union Square and demanding Gordon bring him his brother and Bruce Wayne.

Inexplicably tied to Bruce, in the way Selina had been. Five was destined to be Bruce Wayne. It was his one, his only purpose, fulfilled just to be discarded, the time bomb ticking in his head feeling at times like the perfect failsafe, in place to eliminate him when he was no longer of use. He had accepted it, accepted his role, his purpose. It was more than most could say.

But still, sometimes, buried deep in his chest, in the place he kept the secrets he would never share, he longed for something that was just…his.

Five strokes his hand over the container, imagines that he’s brushing back Jerome’s hair. It had felt soft, the brief moment it had brushed against his cheek as he lifted the corpse out of the grave.

Though he doesn’t look particularly peaceful, so quiet and still with his eyes firmly shut, Jerome could almost be mistaken for sleeping, perfectly maintained in his sleek glass coffin.

Long before the articles and news footage and photographs the Court instructed him to study meticulously, memorizing Bruce’s steps, his voice, his anecdotes over and over again, there had been other stories.

The Professor had given him all sorts of books, when he’d been locked away in the labs at Indian Hill, tales passed along to him and the other test subjects. Dr. Strange had been a big fan of myth, of legend, holed up in his laboratory raising monsters from the dead.

Five had poured over tales of King Arthur, destined to pull Excalibur from the stone and become the once and future king. At Strange’s encouragement, he had voraciously read Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper, puzzling over the identical prince and peasant, doppelgangers of one another who switch places.

This required reading list had made more sense with hindsight.

Alongside these stories of grandeur, some stray fairy tales had fallen into Five’s hands. He read of princesses locked away in towers and dungeons, guarded by dragons and waiting for their prince to come and save them; or cursed by jealous witches and jilted fairies, fallen into deep slumbers, with true love’s kiss the only cure to stir them. Five felt a pang of empathy, aching in his chest, long before he truly understood what the word meant.

Having had little contact beyond the Professor and other assistants in the lab, Five hardly grasped the idea of loneliness. Still, the stories made him feel less alone.

And they gave him connections beyond even the ones he formed with the characters in the pages.

The pretty woman with the penchant for riddles in the cell next to his would read to him, sometimes, late at night, her voice soft and melodic through the vent between their rooms. He’d glimpsed her only once through the small window on the door of his cell, light hair spun around her head like a golden halo that reminded him of Rapunzel.

Most of the other residents of Indian Hill were a single number, like Subject 13; Ms. Mooney, Five learned later. But the woman in the cell next to his had a serial number, like he did. 191IB. She called herself “Bea.”

While the Professor gave Five fables and tales of adventure, to Bea he provided romance and tragedy, from Shakespeare and the Brontes, mostly. The stories always ended so sadly, Five thought, but she seemed nothing but content at their conclusion, usually letting out a long, besotted sigh as she began murmuring about how romantic it all was.

Five had hated Hamlet in particular, troubled by the titular prince haunted into madness by his father’s ghost. Though he barely had a concept of what a father was, the thought of such a person’s death driving someone to vengeance and murder and death was…unsettling.

But 191IB had disagreed. She wept for an hour after Ophelia’s fate was revealed.

“She died,” Five had observed, flat but uncertain, the following evening.

“Yes, but she died for love,” Bea had crooned, and he could hear her cot rustling as she presumably fell back onto it.

Five supposes there was something to it, with hindsight. Any experience of love–if there even was such a thing–he’d bore witness to had so far in his short life outside Indian Hill’s graying walls had usually ended badly.

He’d still admit he preferred the fairytales, if asked. Not that anyone had ever known enough about his own past to ask.

Peering down, Five must admit Jerome isn’t beautiful, not in the traditional sense. Had been, once, but not so much anymore. Five likes looking at him anyway.

Skin white as snow, hair red as fire. Not the literal fairest in the land in pallor nor the fiercest, not anymore, if the press about his twin brother is to be believed. The glimpses of footage on the nightly news showed a face even paler than Jerome's ghostly gray. As though they were both dead, Jeremiah the living, Jerome…not so much.

The city had cast Jerome aside, too.

That old, familiar sense of loneliness creeps in, making Five’s fingers twitch, the late night rendering the world quiet around them.

What he does next he knows well he shouldn’t do.

The side of the chamber is metal, with a button on the side that unlocks the latch.

Five presses it and lifts the lid.

A cold burst of air hits him in the face, the cooling component that conserves Jerome’s body chilling the room.

He smooths back that bright red hair, fulfilling his earlier compulsion. It remains as soft as he remembered.

Five draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a moment. Daring himself to do what he’d set out to.

Then he leans down and presses his lips to that cool, colorless frown out of curiosity more than anything else.

After the briefest of kisses, a whisper of skin against skin a waking Jerome might hardly feel at all, Five pulls back and waits, watching the pale corpse laid out before him. Not so much as a twitch of life stirs below him.

Well. It had been worth a shot, anyway.

Retrieving the kit tucked away with Dr. Strange’s other tools, Five takes out an alcohol swab and wipes down Jerome’s face, his hair. Then he shuts the chamber, resealing the lock.

A wave of exhaustion washes over him, his limbs suddenly feeling numb and limp, and he slumps onto the floor, back pressed against the chamber.

Five stares into the dim space of the room until the world fades away, no memory of falling asleep.

He wakes with an abrupt start as Strange’s familiar footfall enters the laboratory space, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, his cheek pressed against the cool metal of the container. If Dr. Strange is surprised to find him there, he says nothing.

“Soon,” the Professor promises, smile indulgent, “we will wake him soon.”

[callmeblake]

My Chemical Romance: Behind December 2010’s SPIN Cover Shoot (X) Photo Credit: Ture Lilligraven Picture 1: The Concept

 In the video for the album's first single, "Na Na Na", My Chemical Romance, a.k.a. the Killjoys, are left with the remnants of a ravaged and desolate nation. They dress up in what's available — tights, biker jackets with American flags, roller skates, astronauts helmets — and race around in a weathered muscle car and shoot laser guns. It's quite surreal.

To stick with the theme, Egiziano and Lillegraven brought in a few props, including a giant red rocket, an orange-painted toy gun... and a giant inflatable panda bear. "They really gravitated toward the panda, so that became the focus," Lillegraven tells SPIN. "They ran with it!"

Picture 2: Way Out There 

While each member of the band was involved in the concept of the shoot, Gerard, the consummate frontman, took charge. "He was really interested in the artistic aspects of the shoot, and looking at and evaluating everything," Lillegraven says. "I always research bands before a shoot — but he did his research, too. He knew my work and I sensed that he likes to collaborate."

Gerard also flaunted his unique style. "He showed up in this American flag T-shirt, which was a perfect fit considering the video and concept. The shirt really popped with his bright new hair color."

Picture 3: Pool Party 

"I had each bandmember [guitarist Frank Iero pictured here] go into the pool and get under the panda and try to push it up," says the Los Angeles-based shutterbug. "It was a very interactive shoot."

Picture 4: Pool Party

The Pink Motel proved to be the perfect place for the photo shoot, since it resembled the dilapidated 1950s diner in the band's "Na Na Na" video. "It's a rundown and odd motel with this desolate feel," Lillegraven tells SPIN. "We wanted to draw from that Mad Max aspect of their new video."

Picture 5:Location, Location, Location

Lillegraven's approach was to set up a scene... then let the band run amok! "They just went with it. It was very spontaneous," he says. "They were falling all over the place and having a lot of fun."

Picture 6: The Play's The Thing

Lillegraven and Egiziano kept My Chem on their toes. "I had them running back and fourth with the panda and that's one thing Gerard really loved," says the photographer. "They're probably used to very static shoots, in which they're put in still positions, all dressed up and beautiful. With them moving around the shoot became more fun and interesting. It was different than just standing there and looking cool."

Picture 7: Panda Express

Lillegraven and Egiziano had the band work together during the shoot, resulting in some provocative and unique photos. "They couldn't just stand around with their hands in their pockets," says Lillegraven.

But the shoot ended up taking a toll on the panda prop: "There's a fan that has to be attached to it all the time. But it became a little deflated after a bit!"

Picture 8: Fun Times

The band, says Lillegraven, was having a blast with the photo shoot. "They were having a lot of fun with the little challenges," says the photog. "Everybody was falling all over the place! They chatted, hung out, and were very enjoyable and friendly people."

Picture 9: Hot Wheels

To close out the day-long shoot, the band jumped into a vintage Jeep — rented from a movie prop company — and took it for a spin. "I wanted to create this dreamy dust field for the photo," says Lillegraven. "My assistant would come spin donuts and kick up dust in another car, then the band would come burning through the cloud in the Jeep. It reminded me of a graphic novel. I grew up with that stuff, too, just like Gerard."

Picture 10: Cover Stars

The cover photo proved to be the most labor intensive for My Chem. "They were worried about running up the side of the pool over and over, since they're not exactly athletic people and it's over nine feet deep," says Lillegraven. "But they were all about it. They'd run up and someone would be blocked from the camera, so they'd have to do it all over again. But they did. They were such a pleasure to work with."

WATCH: Behind the scenes at My Chemical Romance's December 2010 cover shoot 

Here:

Link to pics on the site not used in the article Link to scan of the magazine

[current-mcr-news]

jaymethornton: TBT!!! My Chemical Romance, Alternative Press 2005. I think this was my first ever cover shoot so I had to bring it hard. I used to do a lot more crazy photoshop stuff so for this story I figured I'd turn them into a Harry Houdini sideshow attraction complete with death defying water tank escapes and carnival barkers. These guys were totally game and AWESOME. For authentic photoshop illusion, I legit hung everyone upside down in STRAIGHT JACKETS. Let's all take a moment to think about this; you can't use your arms and are being hoisted upside down to a bar where you hang by your legs and If you fall, it's a straight boink to the head, no hands. They all did it like rockstars. Good crazy times. I feel my retouching has improved. Check out the behind the scenes.

[March 17, 2022]

[taeyamayang]

love and lies

mikey x fem!reader | romance & angst - i'm sorry

Your favorite scent and sound are rather odd.

A bizzare mix of chemicals and pollutants that assuredly have caused a couple of nasal allergies or just flat out bad for your lungs. But as twisted it may sound, a whiff of it would instantly pull the corners of your lips. Akin to your favorite sound. Your favorite is not a medley of string and wind instruments nor a melody of a beautifully cascading vocal notes but rather a mechanical roaring engine. A robust sound of a classic CB250T. All these excite your sensory neurons, signaling your brain that something is here.

or rather someone.

"Your ride is always on time." Your old friend points out the obvious.

You hear it and smell it. The sound of his bike and the smoke that comes with it. You turn your head, smiling like a fool when he pulls next to a road gutter near you. He steps one foot on the ground followed by the other to steady the two-wheeled bike between his legs.

You watch him as he thrust the helmet up to free his face, swinging his head side-to-side making his shoulder length hair brush against the sides of his face. Everything was slower, at least maybe for you, as you watch your lover under the moonlight. Completely allured by his captivating visuals. He looks ethereal and you'll never get enough of how beautiful he is.

"Seems like he missed you. If eyes could burn, you're on fire now, (y/n)." Youe friend arches her brow to an impatient man waiting for you to come back to him.

"Go get your man." A friendly smack lands on your bum resulting to a high pitched yelped coming from you.

And you did. You waved your friend a goodbye, orbs never leaving her as you look through your shoulder at the same time your quick steps lead you to the other direction.

You tracks reach him and immediately you shoot him an eye-smile. A streak of dimple similar to that of a whisker rests below your eyes deepens. You attempt to take the helmet, your helmet, from his grasp but he jerks it away from you, leaving you with grasping on air.

"Kiss me first." Mikey says, more like demands, as a cheeky smile grows on his face.

"My friend is still here and we're in public, Mikey." You reason out in a hushed tone but your lover wastes no time as he plants a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Oh, come on! Get a room!" The voice of your friend rings through the still air of Tokyo. You giggle, turning around to face her.

"Sure, we will!" You take the helmet from Mikey's hand before tugging it down your head.

"You still owe me one more night out, (y/n)!"

"I'll never forget!"

Mikey's hands grip on the throttle with two fingers laying on top of the brake lever. He bends his wrist as he rolls the throttle consequently making the engine of the bike roar.

Before his feet leave the ground you secure your position behind him. Both your arms tightly hug around his torso. Your face is leaning against the expanse of his back covered by a black leather jacket.

The bike kicks off. Its speed and sudden pull never fail to startle you. Hence, your arms around his waist tightens as he speeds through the streets. The visions of people and facades of commercial buildings are nothing but a merely jumbled blur in your eyes.

The dancing lights in the buildings and lamp posts are like melting paint overlapping with each other as one hue engulfs the other. The faces of the people abruptly changes as Mikey's bike easily drive past blocks by blocks, leaving nothing but traces of incomplete smiles and broken scowls in your memory.

But none of it mattered. The world could be a blur but you would careless for all that mattered to you the most right now is the man caged in your embrace. And all is well as long as you have him.

"Missed me, baby?" Mikey must have sensed your grip on him tightening around his body.

"Yep, I did." You chime in, grinning though he could not see you.

"How much?" He screams over the loud noise of the engine.

"A ton." You pause before continuing, "Did you miss me too, Mikey?"

"Yeah."

"How much?" You place your chin on his scapula, fixing your eyes at the fraction of his face. Your vantage point hinders you to look at the entirety of his face but enough to witness his cheeks rise.

"Two tons."

Mikey pulls the brake lever making the tires screech in cries. He turn his head to you, body slightly twisting as his figure bathes in the glow of the red light.

"I love you." He suddenly says.

"Even when I'm old and grey?"

"Even when you're old and grey and cranky and suffering from arthritis." You unclasp your arms around him, hands resting on top of his thighs as a tumble of laughs roll out from your lips.

"Arthritis? Really?"

"We gotta be realistic, babe." He takes your hand, planting soft kisses on your knuckles. His warm breath fans against your skin. He wholeheartedly utters,

"I will love you till life permits me."

Green.

His mouth leaves the back of your hand and by instinct your wrap your arm around his body. You feel giddy. Mikey isn't usually open about his feelings. Times like this are moments you want to keep close to you. Memories you would come back to for comfort. A reminder that once in your life a soul has genuinely loved you beyond your flaws and imperfections.

Ring.

A ringing sound pierce through your ears as soon as Mikey steps on the accelerator.

Ring.

Here it is, again. Bothered by the noise, you pat on the pockets of your jacket and pants, searching for your phone and once you found it you were welcomed by a silent non vibrating device.

Ring.

"Babe, your phone is ringing." You shout. Mikey briefly glances at you before pulling his back to the road, stitching his eyebrows together.

"My phone? Babe, you know I don't bring my phone when I'm riding my bike."

Stop.

Dimmed sunlight peaks through the cracks of your shut eyelids and you feel your head heavier than it used to. The humid inside the room is thicker making it harder for you to breathe.

Slowly, your eyelids peel open and your hazy vision darts to every corner of the room. White, Blue, and Grey. At least you managed to sleep in your room.

Come after is an unbearable pain on your stomach as if your insides is eating each other out of famine. Right, you didn't eat last night.

Ring.

There's it again. The ringing sound in your ear. You follow the sound of a phone ringing and it leads you to the bedside table.

Bedside table? This isn't your side of the bed.

To stop your phone from ringing, you take the call without looking at the caller I.D.

"Hey, I've been calling you. Thanks for picking up."

It's Draken.

The silence that laid between you and him is insufferable. Fair enough because who even knows what to say in a situation like this? Nonetheless, after a few seconds he breaks the silence.

"Hey, uh, everyone's looking for you. I have my bike I can pick you up."

You gaze at the wall clock hanging on top of the curtain-covered windows. It reads 1:13pm. No wonder your stomach is violently writhing inside you. You skipped three meals since last night.

"No, Draken, but thank you. I'll take the bus instead." Your own voice is foreign to you. It's strained and hoarse nothing like your upbeat and teasing tone that you usually use. Audible whispers from Draken's background uninvitingly joins the conversation.

"Told you, you can't pick her up using your bike! it's their thing!" Kazutora.

"Shut up, dumbass, she might hear you." Baji.

"Draken, we should pick her up." Mitsuya.

"Yeah, there's no way we'll let her walk to this place alone." Takemichi.

"Hey! I'm still here. It's Draken." Draken says after a long pause. It's not like you refuse to speak with him but you aren't sure how long can you keep your voice steady, pretending like you've got everything under control when truth is you're on the verge of losing it.

"I was wondering if it's alright if Mitsuya and I come pick you up? We're not riding my bike. We'll ride the bus together."

You push yourself up from your lying position. A soft thud resonates as the back of your head meets with the head board of the bed.

"If you're worried about me getting lost then no. Somehow I've memorized the address. I'm all good, Draken."

Your orbs took notice of a black cocktail dress draped over the backrest of the seat of your dresser. The hem of it idly hangs. It stares back at you reminding you of reality.

"It's not just about that, (y/n). We're worried and you're not in the right headspace and we know that Mi-" Draken bites his tongue, internally debating with himself whether should he say his name but makes up his mind as he continue.

"Mikey would prefer you safe. He would want you to see him for the last time."

"Stop."

"(Y/n), please."

"Don't." You snap, tone harsher than before. A shaky breath escapes from your lips and for the first time since you woke up your facial muscles move. Your staggered breathing gets louder. You keep your lids firmly shut as you hold your tears back.

"D-don't say his name." A loud sob rolls from your lips as you repeatedly hit the back of your head on the headboard.

"(Y/n)." He utters softly. You draw in air before slowing swalling the lump in your throat.

"I'm sorry, Draken. It wasn't my intention to snap at you but last night-" Finally, warm trails of tears rivers down your cheeks. Your teeth claw on your bottom lip still trying suppress your loud cries. But you are helpless. Broken beyond repair at this point.

"I met him. I was holding him. I went out to meet with my friend and fetched me with his bike. We drove around Tokyo like the usual." You sit up, feeding your yourself with fake hope. The back of your hand meets with your cheeks as you wiped tears off your face.

"(Y/n), listen."

"He told me loves me and that he missed me too. Two tons. He missed two tons."

"Of course, he loved you. He loved you more than anyone else."

"B-but he also lied to me." You whisper. Your orbs casted down on your unclothed limbs sinking in the comfort of your mattress.

"He told me that he will love me until I'm old and grey. He said that. He promised." You murmur to yourself.

"BUT WHY IS HE NOT HERE?!" You yell and somehow the weight on your chest never seem to lighten. The sound of Baji's voice asking Mitsuya to take the cab with him to go to your place fills the silence in the other line.

"(Y/n), I think you got it wrong. I believe what you are referring to is a dream." Draken's voice is mellow and sweet but it takes more than honey-coated words to heal the pain.

"No."

"(Y/n), Mikey... is dead."

"NO!" Your voice howled inside the room and the next thing you know is you're hurling your phone against the wall. It crashed and slams on the floor and you couldn't careless.

You could handle a heartbreak. A spoiled relationship between two people who can't meet halfway is better than dealing with a loss of a lover whom you thought you'd spend the rest of your lives with. The idea of you can no longer see him daunts you. In the next few hours he will be six feet under the ground and all you are left to do is say your farewells.

Words won't mean a thing when he's cold and lifeless behind a glass window. You had told him countless times before how much you love but it will never be enough. It won't be enough for he was taken away from you too soon.

You press the bottom edge of your palms against the socket of your eyes. You finally give in as you let yourself be taken over by grief. Crying won't bring him back to life and it won't mend your mourning heart but for now this is all you can do.

You sniff and get a whiff of a scent coming from the fabric that rests below your wrist. An aroma of sweet musky bergamot woven with oakmos and lavander disrupts your cries.

You tear your face away from your hands and crack your head to the side. This isn't your side of the bed and you're not wearing your clothes. You blink a few times as the realization sinks in.

You're wearing Mikey's hoodie and somehow crashed on his side of the bed.

You bring the sleeves of the hood to your nose, eyes rolling at back of as you devour remnants of him.

It's him.

The pullover carresses your curves akin to his gentle touch. It feels as if he's here with you. Even when he's gone, the only person that could comfort you is him.

You scurry your way to your abandoned phone on the floor, almost tripping on the blanket of the bed. The screen of the device is shattered. Webs of cracks disfigure the screen. Your thumb presses on power button, hoping it would give you another chance to retrieve your files.

All you have right now are fragments of him. And you cannot afford to lose your mementos.

Fortunately despite the poor state of your phone, the screen lights up. Soon a candid image of Mikey enjoying his meal appears. You swallow in your still-beating heart and your bottom lip quivers as you stare at a photo of him.

It was valentine's day last year when you both swore you won't celebrate like how typical couples do, but he only said so to prevent you from booking a table in the local restaurant. He had plans for you although Mikey wasn't normally the type to plan a romantic date. He was secretly studying the recipe of your favorite dish. It was the only time he cooked for you and frankly enough though it wasn't a michelin star dish, it was perfect. It was too salty but perfect. It's perfect because he made it for you.

A tear drops on the broken screen of your phone and your vision begins to blur again. But this time you're smiling as tears uncontrollably fall on your cheeks and on the floor. You hold onto your phone, putting it near your chest as if embracing it. Your fingers tighten around the device as you bend your back down, curling your body to the small device.

"I love you too, Mikey."

happy valentine's day.

Masterlist | TR Masterlist

[thekidultlife]

100 Things I Learned About Love | Vernon!Android AU

Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x female!reader

Genre: SCI FI!! Action, Romance, Angst(?)

Word Count: 22.2k (yes another giant fic)

Warnings: A bit of death and gore

A/N: Well, I’m gonna say sorry first to the anon who requested a vernon android au when we were just starting this blog (like three yrs ago) and I only managed to finish it now;; 

So this fic is a continuation (and is in the same universe) of the Jihoon Android AU The Coldest Human; The Warmest Robot. It is primarly inspired by the book “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by Philip K. Dick and the anime “Beatless”. This one here has also elements from Huxley’s “A Brand New World” (because I just love reading dystopian novels for some reason). I kind of mashed everything together to create the world! 

This will be the 2nd part of a four part series! Next would be Soonyoung’s story and then finally Joshua’s! This series kind of explores the whole world I created for it. Jihoon’s story introduced the whole world and the relationship between android and creator, while Hansol’s story explores the world of bounty hunters! I still haven’t decided fully with what to do with the rest but I hope you enjoy this one!!

Tag List: @haotheheckk, @smthingabtlove!! (because they asked to skskks)

If mornings had any color, it would be a disgusting green. Afternoons, electric orange. Midnights, as dark as crude oil. Cities were built upon lines of flickering yellow, as streets were colored with the void of space; dark, desolate, and meaningless.

Society is tinted with the same shades of emptiness. Dressed in uniform white body suits—hair covered entirely as it was deemed unhygienic—only the face bore the resemblance of the classic human being, as if it was a mask. Serene smiles and polite gestures were exchanged almost to a hundred times; laughter was hollow and chemically induced, as with tears and frowns. Frivolity and superficiality were the main trends. 

As what they appear to be, is what they are actually are.

Welcome to the West Martian colony!

“Here ya go. The case’s now yours, doll,” your boss tossed a folder filled with papers on the polyester table. “Choi quit a few days ago after retiring Woozi.”

Your head perked up immediately as soon as you heard the news; disbelief painted on your face.

“What? Why?” you asked, standing up with mouth agape. He was one of your idols, your role models; the reason why you went into this line of work.

“He’s not talkin’, doll. Sadly. Told me it’s personal. But can’t blame him really, this business is gettin’ old.”

Your boss with his thinning hair and scotch-tapped broken glasses, sipped from a coffee stained mug; seemingly too overused for years of constant coffee drinking.

Yet you loved this place—this pseudo-police department home to bounty hunters of West Mars, with its crumbling brittle plastic window blinds and its moldy paper odor—all a different world than that of the city around it. You loved how it was like something straight from an Earth comic book; classic, rustic, and homey; a sheer contrast to the minimalist style of the new century.

“So what do we have here? Some andy from the Orion branch?”

A finger flipped through the factsheet with brows raised and lips in a tiny pout as you scanned the information laid before you. There were several official photographs of the unit after it was made, but none were security cam shots.

“So, from the organization…SVT-class Type-12 Vernon. The name’s too Western.”

Your boss shrugged. “The org’s just pastin’ names on their andys like butter on bread, dolly.”

“Guess so. But this Vernon just looks someone my age,” you remarked, munching on the biscotti within your arm’s reach.

“It’s an andy, YN. A hundred years, and it’ll still look the same. Now off ya go, better start retiring ‘em or you’re gonna get retired first.”

Sighing, you stood up and brushed the crumbs off your skinny jeans. Bending over, you picked up your briefcase filled with a laser gun and a V-T scale equipment as you bid your boss a short goodbye.

In reality, you didn’t want to leave the home base.

One particular reason was that you’d be taking the hovercraft and start cruising around the godforsaken city, not that it believes in any god for as long as you could account for. The city was an abomination, a stubborn mulish creation born out of rejection of the old, ancient ways—ways that had led to the destruction of the Earth, ways you still hold on to despite migrating to Mars. Despite being physically present, and even born in the red planet, you knew your heart was still back on Earth. You were proud to be to be human, with ancestry from the noble home planet, and everything which diminishes humanity is your enemy.

—you paused.

Lips parted, eyes transfixed.

A thousand snowflakes suspended on the air as if you were in a colony-sized snow globe. You continued to wonder, because you had never before seen snow in its truest, purest form, and everything you knew about them was from data gathered on Earth.

You removed your glove to touch one floating. It was cold, you shivered. However, it did not melt as you expected it to be as it only glistened against the dark backdrop of the city night like holographic particles.

“What the—!”

As if deliberately cutting you off, the hovercraft swiveled across the air, its power flickering on and off until it was unable to balance itself, swerving up and down across the night sky. You held on to the metal rails, as the turbulence brought you to your knees, the alarm systems of the vehicle blaring on your ears.

“Fucking hell…!” You cursed, grabbing your laser gun as the vehicle plunged you towards the empty streets of the city. Fortunately enough, you were trained to encounter these sorts of problems and thus, you were able to jump towards the nearest rooftop before the hovercraft exploded upon impact to the asphalt road.

Sighing, you watched the flames burn plastic and metal as if you couldn’t believe what you had just experienced. Well, of course it was unbelievable. So far, the only adventure you had experienced in your whole life was your day-to-day job of ‘retiring’ andys, which could get a bit messy but those were on balmier days. Normally, it wouldn’t get pass you to laser a hole on an andy’s head, but if you’re doing it like ten to twenty times a week, it could get boring.

Bam—!!

Your thoughts were placed in a halt as several other hovercrafts continued to fall from the sky like shooting stars, except that people could get killed. But havoc proceeded as it did, where lines of self-driving cars suddenly powered on and chased after human beings who had heard the crash and checked what had happened.

“What the fuck is happening?” you whispered, eyes peering on the alley beneath you. Hopping on several rooftops and sliding down the gutter towards the ground, you cautiously approached the main road, seeing if there was anyone who was in trouble. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone loitering around at this hour anymore.

You checked your intercom for any news or announcements from your home base or from the AI government, yet there was none. As it were, your intercom was actually having trouble projecting a hologram or following any of your commands seemingly halfway hacked.

“Dammit, I couldn’t get hold of HQ,” you grumbled, running towards a nearby police android to alert its human command center. “Hey, could you get in touch with your district station? It’s getting chaotic here.”

Yet the android only stared at you, its eyes blank as if you were a mere holographic image. The artificial smile on its face, which was made to comfort humans interacting with it, seemed more sinister than welcoming. The prolonged silence causing your heart to thump in anxiety.

“Hey? You heard me? Tell the—”

“Hi there. I’m Akiro. What can I do to help you?” It’s human voice making shivers crawl down your skin.

“I said, alert the district station! Haven’t you detected the level of violence—”

“Hi there. I’m Akiro. What can I—Hi there. I’m Akiro—Akiro—Hi—Hi there. H-H-H-Hi-i-i-i—”

The malfunction was obvious in its speech. It wasn’t unusual for an android to malfunction but when it began moving closer and closer to you, you took a step back, dread treading on your spine. Androids made you uneasy as humans once felt ill at ease with clowns—its artificial expressions making its lack of a soul even more prominent, triggering your fight or flight response.

It continued to move towards you until a snowflake dropped on its head, stopping as if it was suddenly glued to the ground. You hesitantly walked closer to it, inspecting its dead eyes to see if it had returned to normal. Raising an arm, you reached for its control box hidden behind its neck.

It grabbed your wrist, without warning. You gasped and began struggling to release yourself from its vice grip, yet you knew how strong androids were.

“Fuck it!”

“Hi there—Hi—I’m A-A-A-Aki-Akiro,” the android continued talking as if its movements were controlled by a remote system.

You moved to reach for your laser gun at your back pocket but the android was swift enough to twist your arm in a lock on your back. It pushed you to the ground as you grit your teeth at the scrapes on your knees and elbows, but you couldn’t break free.

“What can I do to help you?”

You groaned. “Maybe letting go of my fucking arm?”

Gathering your wits, you pushed yourself off the ground, rolling sideways and then kicking the android who was thrown off-balance with your two feet. As it fell to the ground, you grabbed your laser gun and without hesitation, pulled the trigger to blast off its processor.

As the headless android dropped to the asphalt, you sighed in relief as the adrenaline continued to pump into your veins, breathing heavily from all the action. You didn’t understand why the android was behaving out of its initial program and attacking you, a human, who it was supposed to protect.

While you were resting, the glaring headlights of a self-driving car were flashed towards your direction.

Disoriented, you froze to the ground as you tried to make do of your situation and surroundings. However, just like the android, the car sped right towards you in its maximum speed, as if it was trying to kill you. As soon as you heard its tires screech, you willed yourself to move away as the car missed you in just a few centimeters—throwing you to the ground and slammed itself towards the nearby wall.

Without even letting you take a breath, an arm was encircled around your neck, making you unable to breathe; its grip tightening gradually. Two other androids—one a police android, the other a personal helper—faced you with their blank stares as if they were zombies ordered to kill any human on sight.

The helper android had your laser gun on its possession as it slowly aimed it on your head. Panic rose as you tried to remove the arm locking you in place. Mentally, you were cursing at how you had underestimated the situation and let yourself die under the hands of goddamn androids.

Silently, the android pulled the trigger and you braced yourself for impact.

Except it didn’t come.

Your eyes were forced open when you heard the sound of metal dropping to the ground. What you saw had your eyes widen in astonishment as another small disk stuck itself on the police android’s head and split it into individual pieces. In a few seconds, you were dropped onto the ground, choking on your knees as the pieces of the android holding you fell into heaps next to you.

“Are you okay?”

A warm voice asked as a hand was offered to you. You looked up to see doe-like eyes gazing at you with a curious but a worried expression. His slightly curly caramel colored locks fell to his forehead softly as if it were made of the finest materials.

You nodded silently, still stunned by everything happening around you.

When you didn’t take his hand, the mysterious man carried you on his back as he walked you away from the site. While you were being carried, you noticed how he was ‘destroying’ the approaching rogue androids with a disc-like device which would stick on their skin and eventually ‘disassembling’ them to several parts.

“W-who are you…?” you finally asked, your voice returning despite still being painful.

Grabbing another disk from his pocket, the guy hurled it towards an incoming self-driving car which had it stopping, its parts detaching themselves automatically.

“I’m called Hansol. The snowflakes are nanobots which hacks the AI in androids and cars and drives them into killing humans. Unfortunately, I don’t have the capabilities to stop it,” he replied, his voice kind of removed, which had you wondering if he was an android or not. “Though I think Jihoon can.”

“Then…this…this will all continue?” you asked unbelievingly. You didn’t want it to continue, of course. More people would die and you still weren’t sure to what extent the casualties are because of this sudden outbreak.

“The snowflakes will lose its power when its controller is far away. So far, Joshua is already gone from this area.”

“Joshua? An android?”

“Yeah. SVT-class Type-03 Joshua. We came here together, and I tried to convince him out of it, but he wants to test out his abilities.”

Having enough evidence, you pushed yourself away from Hansol and landed safely on the ground with an abhorrent look on your face.

Aiming your laser gun at him, you shouted. “You’re an android too, aren’t you?”

Hansol simply gazed at you with his piercing eyes—tempting you to retract your accusation.

“Yes, I am. SVT-class Type-12 Vernon,” he replied, then looking down on the ground as he scratched his nape. “I like the name Hansol better though, so I want to be called Hansol from now on.”

You grinned. Your prey presented itself right in front of you without you giving an ounce of an effort.

“I’m supposed to retire you, you know?” you remarked, still aiming the gun at him. “And I will.”

Hansol stared at you with a frown on his lips, obviously disliking the fact that he was about to ‘die’ tonight. In fact, he didn’t want to die. He had a lot of things he wanted to do, so many questions yet unanswered.

“I’m…I…I don’t know how to plead. The data is incomplete in the cloud, but, um…don’t shoot me…please,” Hansol replied as he raised his arms.

You were obviously taken aback by his plea. You couldn’t count how many androids begged for their lives because there were none. He was the first one who ever did it.

Shaking thoughts of doubt, you tried to reason with yourself.

Androids don’t plead. They escape. Kill.

The most efficient way out is what they do.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” you shouted back; your finger threatening to press on the trigger. “You might be using analog hack for all I know.”

He scratched his nape again, unable to give an appropriate answer. “Well…I guess I could only ask you to trust me.”

You laughed sarcastically. You have never seen an android use deception so badly.

“If that’s too much to ask, then I guess this is it,” he continued, looking at you again straight into the eyes with his evocative gaze.

You just couldn’t believe what you were hearing. For all the years you spent hunting androids, never had you encountered one who had basically given up without any chase or struggle, especially from one who had every capability to squash you like an ant. You couldn’t help the itch to ask.

“Why? Why give up?”

Hansol shrugged, his gaze on the yellow lines outlining the faraway city buildings. “If I fight back, I will hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You gazed right into his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge the truth in his words, trying to calculate if he was using analog hack against your weakness as a human being. You dislike androids but never had you seen one like him.

“How should I know that?” you shouted again; laser gun still aimed at him. “Using tricks like reverse psychology…I’ll give you an A+ for creativity.”

“I’m not lying,” the android instantly replied. “If you have to kill me, then there is nothing I could do. I made a vow to myself never to hurt humans because that’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to see anyone suffer because of what I did. For some reason, it pains me as well.”

If only you could see how wide your eyes were, or how your lips parted in disbelief the moment you heard him. It almost gave you goosebumps. The air that hung underneath his every word felt so real and heavy that you would have never thought it was uttered by a mere android.

Androids and morality? Fucking hell…who would’ve thought you’d string those words together in the same sentence.

He was more human than most people living in the city. An android—known for their lack of soul; born only to be enslaved by their own programming; without their own thoughts, their own convictions.

But here is one in front of you, willing to die for his own principles; saying it pains him to see you hurt. That is not what androids do. Not in a million years.

What the hell is he then?

You threw your arms up in the air and tucked the laser gun in its holster as you made one big, ugly groan.

“Oh fine! Fuck it! I give up!”

Whether or not he will run away or he will kill you, you didn’t care anymore. It was a risk. You blame your biological flaw to see human traits in objects if he ever did harm you, but whatever, you decided to trust him.

With a small smile and a tiny huff, Hansol walked towards you slowly.

Heart hammering against your chest, you were deathly afraid that he might twist your neck or blast a hole through your chest. You couldn’t be so sure with these androids.

As soon as he had reached you, Hansol placed a hand on top of your head; your eyes squeezed tightly shut as if trying to brace for something bad coming. Yet as soon as you felt his hand, you opened your eyes and gave him a quizzical look.

He only smiled.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

The following morning was the same as ever. Except, not.

“—last night which appears to be a massive AI hack on neighboring Sectors 3, 4 and 7—“

With eyes heavy and a cup of coffee, you pressed another button.

“—71 people dead and more than a thousand injured, hospitals are in full capacity as of the moment—“

Another press of a button.

“—and take a deep breath. Happiness is found within Mercer as we continue to ascend up on the hill—“

“What a load of crap,” you muttered, turning to another channel. It was still six in the morning and you were already in a painfully awful mood. It could’ve been easily fixed with a Penfield Mood Organ but that was another can of shit you’d rather not touch with a ten-foot pole.

“—Mrs. Kim?”

You hadn’t caught on with what the news anchor was asking Mrs. Kim, but you could already take a gander that it was definitely about last night.

“My husband…He was just…he was truly a hero,” Mrs. Kim answered, wrecked by staggered sobs and sniffling of noses. You continued to watch, wondering what had happened to Mr. Kim—crushed by a car? Ran down by a flaming rogue hovercraft? Murdered by an andy?

“Your husband a hero, Mrs. Kim?” The interviewer repeated, coaxing the other for details. You waited for the dramatic reply after Mrs. Kim had settled herself down from the crying fit she was having.

“Yes…someone was stealing our ducks last night—“

You paused.

“During the whole chaos?”

“Yes, sir,” she sniffed and you rolled your eyes. “He—he tried protecting them yet they murdered him! Those bunch of foul-hearted bastards! Our ducks! Our Muscovy ducks…they were fifty grand a piece—“

You switched the TV off, now more tired and irritated than you were when you had turned it on about an hour ago. If you were asked to name one trend which just tasted like shit to you, that would probably be the current craze over owning animals. The whole Mercerism thing was only running second to that.

“I, uh…made some pancakes,” a foreign but familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, making you turn your head towards the doorway. With your eyes set upon Vernon, or Hansol, as he liked to be called, you instantly recalled what had happened last night.

You wondered if your brain disappeared that time or your common sense simply deteriorated because there was no way you would let a half-a-million-dollar bounty money just run free. Not to mention that he has all the capabilities to decapitate you in a millisecond.

Inwardly groaning, you gave him a small glance as he waited for your response with sheer curiosity. At least he followed you to your apartment and now you have a free housekeeper.

But that was last night, this was today. You can certainly do something about it, but you weren’t really in the mood for it. A headache was threatening to split your brain into half and racking your brain about the moralities and the whys of your decision last night wouldn’t really help anyone.

“Oh, right, right,” you replied absentmindedly, removing yourself from the cover of your flannel blanket and walked towards the dining room of the small apartment your meager earnings could afford.

It was a simple place. White walls, dirty carpet, and a worn-out sofa which had seen better days. Kitchen was slightly okay—the once white tiles now yellowed with age; the grout covered in black mold of unknown origin. The view was horrendous; covered up by dark globs of factory shadows and the ever-present rumbling of the monorail as it passes by.

Being a bounty hunter wasn’t exactly a glamorous job. It wasn’t like you were the police, who, as a matter of fact, are now mostly made up of androids. A bounty hunter does the nitty-gritty jobs the police wouldn’t do; such as hunting androids. Yet you liked this job. Even if it was stupidly exhausting.

Settling on your chair, you gazed at the expertly done pancakes and bacon, sending wonderful scents of home to your senses. You wondered why you had never thought of getting a helper android for yourself with how convenient they are, yet considering the fact that one helper was an inch away of killing you last night, it was better that you hadn’t.

“I hope you like them,” Hansol said, placing a bottle of maple syrup on the table. “I searched the cloud and it says you liked pancakes and bacon.”

Awkwardly, you nodded at him and then looked down on the piping hot breakfast on your table. You continued to gaze at it, the burnt patterns on the pancake beginning to take form of an image in your head, and then back at Hansol who was just standing at the side.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, as soon as he noticed the blank look on your face, curious if the cloud made some mistake.

“N-no! It’s…it’s fine,” you replied, waving your hands to and fro. “I just, um…are you just going to stand there?”

Hansol raised his brows at your question, his doe eyes widening just a bit. “Ah, me? Yeah. Isn’t this the right way?”

“The right way?” you asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yeah, the right way. I’m an android so I can’t sit with you. I heard from the cloud.”

“Why not?”

Hansol shrugged, the kitchen towel in his hands hanging. “Heard it’s inappropriate according to human table etiquette. Besides I don’t need to eat and I don’t really get tired.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes at his response. “Human standards, what a load of bull. You just standing there makes me uncomfortable. So, you either sit down or you scram.”

You could tell that he was definitely taken aback, and began wavering if he should follow you or not. In the end, Hansol was forced down on the chair in front of you with a nervous look, awkward in his seat as you continued to stare at him.

Finally acknowledging that everything was alright, you began to drip maple syrup on your pancakes. The android was only watching you and your actions—very typical android behavior; gathering data from its surroundings.

“So, you’re Hansol?” you began, slicing through the three-tiered pancake tower with a knife.

“Yeah. Vernon is my model name, but I want to go by my own name.”

You raised your brows at him, biting into a forkful of food. “Cool. You picked that name on your own?”

“Yeah. It was the name of a musician I liked, so I took it.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could say, because deep inside your head, you were already in a state of confusion.

For all the years working as a bounty hunter, this was the first time you’ve ever seen an android want to name himself after a musician he liked. Hell, this was your first time seeing an android have preferences. Usually, they would reflect the preferences of the human being they were talking to, but you haven’t even said anything about yourself to him other than your name.

No. He probably accessed the cloud or something. Androids of his caliber usually have better access to the place data miners dump people’s personal information.

Is this how advanced the Nexus 9 really is? If so, this could potentially cause a stir among bounty hunters. If they can’t identify their prey, things could potentially end up disastrous.

“You do know I’m assigned to retire you? Or kill you, to be exact. Not sure why we’re still using euphemism towards damn machines but whatever,” you pushed on, curious of how he would respond, thinking if there was anything more to the Nexus 9.

“Yeah, you told me last night,” he replied immediately and at the most flippant way; as if he wasn’t talking about being killed by the person in front of him.

“And…you’re not worried?” you asked, eyeing him up and wondering what was currently running in his processor. “I could just whip out my laser gun and fire a hole through your head while I eat this pancake, you know?”

Hansol leaned his head to the side, looking as if he was trying to process an answer to your question.

“I’m not worried. I mean, if you wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already,” he replied, as a matter-of-fact.

“What if I’m just too lazy to do it today? I could do it any other day I want, any time I want, and the thing is, you robots can’t even predict it with your fancy algorithms,” you smirked at him, your prejudice against androids showing through.

Yet even with your provocations, Hansol remained calm.

“It doesn’t matter. The fact that you haven’t done it yet means a lot to me. That’s why I trust you.”

At his answer, you simply frowned; unamused that he rebutted you with a good response and by the time he replied, you had already ran out of rocks to throw at him. So, in the end, you simply scoffed and finished your pancake, leaving him by the dining table with an irate glare.

Hansol watched your retreating back as he began to clean up the mess on the table. He was truly being honest with his words—he trusted you, and if he dies at your hands, well, that was it. Even though he didn’t really want to think of that possibility.

It was strange that the thought of you betraying his trust hurt more than the thought of dying.

“I’m going to work now. Don’t even think about leaving this place,” you told him as soon as you returned from the bedroom, all geared up. “There are other bounty hunters out to get you, and I don’t want them to get my bounty money.”

Silently, Hansol nodded as he saw you pick up your work equipment and your laser gun in a manner that seemed routine. Before you took another step further however, you stared into his eyes, thinking, pondering what you were about to do.

Slowly, you raised your arm and allowed the laser gun on your hands to unfold, pointing towards his direction. You saw the crosshairs between his doe-like eyes—an image you frequently saw seconds before you blow a hole through an andy’s processor. A decision made in a fraction of a second can ultimately change your life—that if you simply pressed the trigger within your grasps, Hansol would no longer move, or talk, or look at you with evocative gazes.

At that moment, you had all the power between “life and death”, as he unquestioningly relinquished it all to you by simply standing there in his spot in front of the kitchen counter.

Hansol felt himself tense up despite his calm exterior. He could already see it, just after thinking about the possibility, yet he never thought reality felt more painfully sharp than his thoughts were.

Your fingers brushed against the trigger. Just one press and he will be gone and you will be rich. Just another day as a bounty hunter. Could you do it?

You sighed.

In the end, you lowered your gun and turned to the other direction as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll be late for work,” you simply remarked, more to yourself than to anyone and then left him there in the kitchen, still stunned. You wondered if your shoulders felt burdened because of the heavy gun or because of the decision you just made.

Quick footfalls echoed across the dreary hallway.

The place stunk like hospital antiseptic and muriatic acid; matching the dim-lit atmosphere illuminated by only a few incandescent bulbs hanging every two meters. There were glass windows every so often, and if you took your time to peer through, you would see rows and rows of human-sized cylinders filled with a greenish liquid; all connected by wires the size of your torso to a place you simply assumed was the power supply.

“What an ironic place to hide for an andy,” you remarked as you looked around. Your partner this time, by the name of Morrison, scoffed amusingly at your comment.

“Who would’ve guessed they’re in a fertilization plant?”

You frowned. “What a gloomy place to be born in.”

Exactly as the name suggested, fertilizations plants ‘manufacture’ children. While that is as disgusting as you thought it was, that is the reality of the world you live in. While there are a few rare exceptions, people no longer have sex—it was too animalistic, too impure of an act to participate in.

Thus, the solution to a declining population is just to make babies just like how factories make your easily reproducible mug sitting on your kitchen counter. You couldn’t even deny the awful truth that you were made in one of these factories (you know, just like your mug). And more disappointingly, there was truly no ethical problem, because the world today only worships one god: Purity, in its coldest and most cruel manifestation.

In the end, aren’t we simply androids as well? Just made up of blood and guts?

“So? Have you caught on to that SVT andy yet?”

Morrison suddenly asked, dragging you back from your inner thoughts. You took a double take.

“The what—?”

“The SVT-class andy,” he clarified, “you know, the Vernon one.”

The mere mention of his model name made you purse your lips in annoyance. If only you could say that he was in your apartment doing some arbitrary thing an android would do if they were left alone.

“Still nothing. I was supposed to do an initial search last night but after being caught in all that chaos, I just went straight home,” you lied, having no choice. There was no way you would let everyone know you have something worth half a million bucks in your dingy, totally unsecure apartment.

“Well, no one could have it easy with these military grades. They’re craftier than your average andy after all,” he shrugged, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Remember when Choi Seungcheol took almost three months to locate SVT-class Woozi? Man, I could still remember coming with him to a dozen places just to look for leads.”

As soon as Morrison reminisced memories with the former chief, you feel a bit heavy hearted. You did look up to him as your hero.

“You ever knew why he left?” you asked.

Morrison only shrugged. “Some say he just got tired of this awful job. Some say he was getting married. Most of them are just gossip anyway.”

You only sighed. “I guess we might never know the truth.”

“C’mon! Choi wouldn’t want you depressed! Straighten those shoulders! We have an andy to face!” your partner smiled, again giving a strong shove on your back. “Today’s just a commercial grade escapee. It wouldn’t be that hard. Peyton had it already detained and ready for questioning.”

Sucking in a huge amount of air and exhaling loudly, you prepped yourself up for some wonderful, heart-palpitating action.

“Alright! Let get it!”

As soon as the both of you entered the room, which was definitely a locker room prepared by the factory staff for your visit, you could already see the subject sitting quietly in front of a steel table; a dim white bulb only giving light to the gloomy room. It was definitely a classic cult-style interrogation room you’ve seen in vintage silent films.

“Good day to you sir,” Morrison greeted as he set his fedora on top of the table and prepped his V-T scale. “I am Agent Will Morrison. You are under suspicion of being an android and we will be administering this test to confirm it or not.”

“I told him so many times already! I’m being framed! The manager hates me and he’s been spreading those rumors!” the man screamed, his face heavy with fear and anxiety.

“We’ll see. If that’s the truth, then there’s no need to worry,” you retorted back with a clipped tone.

You then placed your hands on his shoulders, asking him to wear specialized VR glasses and then carefully arranging the electrodes attached to a spectrometer on his face.

“Settle down now. You don’t want to affect the test results, right?”

At your cleverly concealed threats, the man stopped his outbursts and looked at you in fear. You simply smiled at him before giving Morrison the go signal.

Identifying and hunting androids almost every single day of your life, you couldn’t even count in your head how many times they went for this flimsy cover-up story. They probably thought they were being clever or something.

“So, Jonathan West, age 35 and working as a plumber in one of Sector 3’s fertilization plants, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, unbeknownst to him, the test was already starting.

“You are accused as the android who committed the Palmaide Apartment murders wherein six people were discovered to be brutally murdered and then embedded inside the concrete walls of the apartment.”

“Sir! I’m not android! Please believe me! I have a wife and two kids….! I-I can’t possibly be the murderer!”

You slid unnoticed under the shadows beside Agent Peyton, although still nearby enough to the subject that it would be easy to subdue it down if it goes berserk.

Watching the test being conducted for the nth time, you could easily claim to have memorized all hundred and fifty questions in the questionnaire.

Most questions are practically the same—asking how you would react to certain and usually gruesome scenarios—all designed to gauge micro-expressions and reactions. It is a common belief that androids do not have these sophisticated and almost undetectable movements on your face. Hence, the electrodes.

“I want you to immerse yourself in a certain situation,” you could hear Morrison speak as he turned on the virtual reality system. “Tell me what you think of it.”

Here it comes. Your thoughts turned rancid as you recalled the contents of that video. It was made to intentionally cause distress in humans—limbs being torn, live vivisections, disgusting lobotomies and other gruesome things that could make your stomach lurch; and more importantly, it is intentionally shown to be done to people the subject knows in real life.

Tests such as the Voight-Kampff Scale however are hardly perfect. Humans are complex creatures and are fundamentally unpredictable variables. Different people react to one single scenario in a million different ways. Even if you are looking for signs of empathy—a true testament of humanity—not everyone exhibits it the same way.

That’s why, no matter how many times you’ve blasted a hole through an andy’s head, you would always have this unreasonable nagging feeling underneath your gut that screams you might be wrong. You might actually kill an innocent person.

As you stood there and studied Jonathan West, you realized that his expression turned from disturbed to one of sheer horror. It was quite easy to know, to be honest—he turned pale and looked as if he just wanted to pluck his eyes out and forget that he ever seen what he was seeing right now. It was too real to be simple analog hack.

“Sir…I-I…please make it stop! Please, please….I can’t look anymore,” He muttered weakly, looking as if he was really going to puke big time, which prompted Morrison to immediately close the virtual reality system.

The man was still panting when it was shut down; visibly distraught by what he had seen. Agent Peyton, who was silent during the whole ordeal, then went to the man and asked him if he was alright. In the end, Peyton gave him a glass of water before the test proceeded as it should.

In your opinion, after that display, the subject was already leaning to the ‘most likely human’ side of the spectrum. He wasn’t making red flags which could mark him as an android, though he had a few quirks such as making a rather hollow laugh. Some humans have that kind of laugh, so you didn’t really mind it.

There are days when the excitement of discovering an android wouldn’t really pay you a visit. Sometimes, humans are mistaken as androids either because of their personalities, or by people who simply don’t really like them. Just like how it was in this case.

After a series of more questions and tests, Morrison was also convinced that Jonathan West was human. Besides, the processor level of the android you were looking for wasn’t capable of doing such complex analog hacks.

Even after a deliberation between the three of you outside of the room, it became a unanimous decision to exonerate the subject of any of the accusations placed on him. While you were still a bit doubtful, both Morrison and Peyton—men of more experience than you have as a bounty hunter—agree that West was human and the rumors simply might have been caused by office politics.

“Mr. West, the three of us have finished deliberating and we have decided that you are indeed as human as you could be,” Morrison began, sitting on the same seat he had been for the past few hours.

The man let out a heavy sigh of relief as he made a bashful smile. “Oh my god! Thank you so much, my good sir! Thank you! Thank you!”

Studying the exchange just beside Morrison, you made a small smile. In the end, you didn’t make a mistake and he still had a chance to live. Accidentally killing someone just because of some careless assessment was something you’d rather not go through in your entire life.

“Well, we thank you for giving us your time,” Morrison said as he stood up and walked towards the man, extending a hand. “And we apologize for the inconvenience.”

West shook his hand as they walked towards the door with you and Peyton following closely behind. It was finally over, and you could finally think about what you’d have for lunch. It’s been a while since you had some simple sandwiches. Going for a Subway down 14th Street would be great.

Your eyes found themselves again watching the man and your partner Morrison. You can’t stop smiling at how peaceful the day had become, contrary to what you were expecting.

“It’s no problem, sir!” West exclaimed. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You halted. Your smile faltering.

Those words rang loudly like a deafening siren in your head.

Someone had said those exact same words to you the day before, but for some reason, right now, those words made you shiver in dread; fear dropping down the pits of your stomach.

You instantly averted your alarmed eyes towards West who had been looking back at you as well.

He gave you a blank look.

He knew. You knew.

In just a span of a few seconds, you immediately seized his wrist, twisting it behind his back before tackling him to the ground. You saw the glint of a concealed knife in West’s hands before it flew away to some indiscriminate area of the room.

The man struggled yet he was pinned down by your whole body weight, unable to move—a tactic you learned through experience by subduing andys day in and day out.

Without a second thought, you grabbed your laser gun and fired it center of his forehead. The man lay still in a matter of seconds.

Your heart was beating wildly. You had finally done it.

For a moment, you feared that you might see blood and pieces of bone after the bright light of the laser dissipated. Yet when you finally stood up, huffing, the only thing you saw was the bright red glow of metal heated to melting point.

The two men beside you only stared at the motionless body of the andy with stunned expressions in their faces; unable to believe that they had almost made a grave mistake.

Everything it did was an incredible display of analog hacking.

Because androids are incapable of creating actual emotion, they simply react to the environment and transmit the appropriate response as dictated by the cloud and by their own programming as a means to communicate properly with humans. Using this technique and the fatal flaw of humans to anthropomorphize objects, androids are able to give the impression of ‘humanness’, of having a soul. That is analog hacking.

By ‘hacking’ through people’s ability to empathize, androids are able to deceive, to give a feeling that they too have a soul. It almost killed all of you today.

Eventually, your colleagues’ stares migrated to your direction while you were still gathering yourself.

“What?” was the only response you gave.

It was only until later that noon, as the three of you enjoyed a wonderful lunch at the 14th Street sandwich joint, when Morrison finally put an end to his curiosity.

“Say, YN,” he began, his mouth full of sandwich. “That andy earlier. How’d you know it wasn’t human?”

You were in the middle of sipping from your can of soda when he opened that question. You could only scrunch your brows together, looking for the right way to answer the question.

“Well…” you replied, unsure of how to say it. “I just…I guess I just knew. There’s really no secret behind it. We just exchanged looks and I knew he was about to stab you.”

Peyton nodded. “Pure instincts, huh?”

You knew he was only acknowledging your reason, yet to you, it felt like he was questioning whether you were telling the truth or not. And to be perfectly honest, you were lying by omission.

Because after all, you can’t just tell them that the way that andy said those words and the way Hansol said it, felt so drastically different.

It only took as far as thirty minutes for Hansol to get bored of your characterless apartment and began to get curious about the city of West Mars. Peeking from your dirty windows, all he could see were the tall skyscrapers, fluorescing still despite the morning sunlight, and the numerous utilitarian-looking factories doting the Martian landscape.

He guessed this was a neighborhood no one really fancied to go to, other than those who actually live here—the specials, the dirty, the outcasts. Even after a few hundred centuries, human civilization barely took one foot forward. Even after the Earth had died and most of the population moved to space colonies, life was still the same. There were still oppressors and the oppressed.

Hansol clutched his tightening chest; his eyes still transfixed at the smoke belching from the factory chimneys.

It had been months since he began to feel something. At first there were small bursts of ‘pressure’ in his chest, just some unexplainable pangs of ‘pain’, ‘guilt’, and ‘conscience’— it all began when his fellow android Joshua started murdering people. Six people; a family.

Hansol couldn’t bear to watch it and tried to stop him, yet he also got embedded into the wall with them. The only thing saving him was his ‘second brain’ or a backup processor installed only in him, which was supposed to aid him in his tactical assessments. Otherwise, he’d be dead as well.

He tried to save those people, but he had been a few hours late. In the end, he could only call the police. All this time, whenever he recalled that certain memory, he had to hold himself together. All sorts of things swirled inside him that he thought he might have had a hydraulic leak, but there was nothing physically wrong with him upon inspection.

Jihoon called it ‘emotion’, as soon as Hansol contacted him—born from the rumored empathy organ installed inside all the SVT-class androids. It blurred the lines between human and machine. Hansol couldn’t understand it, even until now, he didn’t have a tight grasp on such an abstract concept. All he knew is that he didn’t want to see anyone get hurt because of him anymore.

Just like those six people.

Caught himself in reverie, Hansol decided to explore the city some more. Staying in your apartment seemed to be making him…reflect. If that was the right word.

He silently apologized to you as soon as he stepped out of the front door, a bit guilty that he had to disobey. But he wanted to do a few things first, and most of them involves going out of your apartment. If he could just go out and then be back before you were back from work, it was as if he never went out in the first place. Well, at least to you.

Going wherever his feet took him, Hansol found himself out of the slums and in the middle of the busy city center.

The tall buildings from the distance were now like crystal towers before him, extending to eternal heights to the heavens beyond. The bright lights of large TV screens flashed in vivid technicolor as it sang ads for the miraculous Penfield Mood Organ, while the throngs of people clad in all white body suits walked across the glowing asphalts beneath their feet.

The thrum of city life vibrated all throughout the crossing like a magnetic field pulsing at every nanosecond; almost undetectable by an indifferent crowd, yet to Hansol, it was almost as if electromagnetic waves were coursing through his skin.

He placed his hand over his chest; trying to ground himself as soon as he felt his heart (if he did have one) soar over something much bigger than life. He tried to put his finger on what to call it, but he guessed the closest he could describe it would be something akin to what humans call ‘wonder’, or ‘amazement’ or ‘astonishment’.

 “Good morning, sir! I am Akito, the police android! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Just like that, Hansol’s bubble was popped as soon as the android appeared. It seemed like he had been standing in the middle of the city center for far too long that it made him quite suspicious.

“No, I…I’m about to go anyway. Thanks, Akito,” Hansol replied, still quite disoriented from the sudden intrusion, but left his place eventually.

Wandering around the area, he noticed a variety of shops and stores, and even some that he didn’t really understand what for. Yet when he was browsing over the different designs for the white body suits most people seemed to enjoy wearing (not like it had other designs), he found what he was looking for.

Well, first on the agenda, then.

After a rather filling lunch, you and your colleagues went out of the restaurant and hopped into the company hovercraft to go back to the office. Since the whole hunting went surprisingly well and ended earlier than expected, there weren’t any hunting jobs scheduled for the rest of the day.

As you laughed at the joke Morrison cracked about how Peyton didn’t utter a single word for the first six months when he joined the company, you spotted a rather familiar figure from the distance.

You frowned and inwardly groaned.

“Boys, I think I have a few errands to do in the city center. You go on ahead,” you told them as they looked at you in bewilderment but reluctantly agreed.

“Well if that’s the case, see you tomorrow, YN,” Morrison replied as he wore his hat again. “Good work today!”

“Thanks! Good working with you two as well!” you told them and the pointed at Peyton playfully. “Better start working on your goodbyes too. See ya!”

As soon as there where gone, making sure that their hovercraft were already a few miles away from where you were standing, you marched irately at the subject of your irritation. It seemed he had moved places from where you had first seen him but you doubted if he had seen you as well.  

“Mister, mister! Do that again!”

It did take time for you to finally locate him since he was pretty much easy to spot relative to the city dwellers who were in all-white body suits. Voices of children were getting louder as you went deeper inside the nearby park, and finally, you caught up to him blowing bubbles in sizes no one would probably be able to do other than him.

“Hansol,” you called behind his back, your hands on your hips and frown on your face. “Why’s your hair black?”

Eventually he turned around and saw your rather upset expression which made him avert his gaze back to the ground. The children around him (and yes they were wearing those stupid body suits) looked at the both of you in wonder, surprised that their entertainment aka Hansol had stopped blowing bubbles all of the sudden.

“Who’s she, mister?” a child asked, probably confused at your sudden appearance. “Your girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” Hansol replied, ready to explain everything. “I’m actually an android—”

Letting him finish was something you’d rather not do, so you immediately covered his mouth.

“Sorry kids, we’ve gotta go now!” You apologized and then managed to drag him out of the park, away from all those children.

Reaching a faraway bench at a rather remote place, you made him sit and contemplate about what he had done. Hansol seemed to know what was wrong and proceeded to sulk at the far end of the bench with a downcast look.

“Well?” you began, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed. Standing in front of him like that, it only made him feel a bit more guilty.

“I, uh…I’m really sorry…” he replied, still unable to look at you. He didn’t calculate the fact that you might be in the same area as well thus his plan had failed. He should consider attaching a GPS tracker on you.

“Didn’t I specifically tell you to not go out of the apartment?” you reprimanded him. “You could be seen by my colleagues and you’d be dead!”

“Sorry…I just wanted to change my appearance so I could hide more easily.”

You groaned and sighed heavily.

“You could be killed! You were lucky it was me who caught you the other night! You think other bounty hunters would just magically trust you if you asked them pretty please?”

“Then why did you?”

Hansol threw back a question right at you like a curve ball and it hit you hard right at the gut. Taken aback, you simply pursed your lips and glared at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you replied and then abruptly turned around. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

 Watching your retreating back, just like this morning, Hansol silently regarded you and your response. In the end however, he couldn’t understand anything, and eventually rose up from his seat and followed you home.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

You asked one day, as the both of you enjoyed a quiet breakfast on a Sunday morning.

It was clear to you that Hansol was not your ordinary android. He does things and says things which clearly were not ‘android’ by nature. As someone who identifies and hunts down androids for a living, you thought you already knew how to distinguish a human being from an android, but considering your confusion towards Hansol, it seems like you clearly do not.

Which is why, you had to ask.

“Me? Uhh…” Hansol scratched the nape of his neck, thinking what parts of himself should he tell you because there really was a lot of information about him. “Well…I’m an android designed for tactical assessments.”

You raised your brow at him, clearly pondering why that was the first thing he wished to share with you. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I, uh…I gather data, consolidate them and then give an assessment of what choices the enemy could make during battle. I just give information and it’s Jihoon who would give the orders and the others would do the fighting. I’m a non-combatant type.”

“So that’s why your only weapon are those disks. They’re for self-defense,” you replied, leaning back. “Anything else?”

Hansol only stared at you, caught off guard that he had to provide more. “Uh…my birthday is on February 18.”

You nodded at him, unsure how his processor actually works, because it seems like he’s been giving you random things about him. “You mean your manufacturing date. Andys don’t give birth.”

“You could say it like that, but I like to think it’s my birthday,” he replied, and you arched another brow at him as you took a sip from your cup of coffee.

“Why?” you asked. The more Hansol talked, the more you sink into bewilderment. You regarded yourself as someone who could tell the difference between an android and a human being, yet right now, as you conversed with Hansol, that fine line was beginning to get blurry.

“I think,” he began, snatching you away from your thoughts, “I think there’s just something special with a birthday than a manufacturing date. It’s like…how do I say this…if you have a birthday, you matter as an existence. You were born to leave a mark in this world. As an android who isn’t exactly ‘alive’, I’d like to know what mark I would leave.”

Utterly speechless was what you were after you had heard Hansol’s explanation. It was weird, truly weird how he had the self-awareness to question his purpose, and you were sitting there wondering if any of the androids you had retired before had thoughts like this. If they did, you weren’t so different to a murderer as you thought you were.

As guilt began to spiral inside your gut, you tried to rationalize your concerns. Hansol was just different, probably using a novel way to use analog hack. Yeah, he’s probably analog hacking you—pretending to have deeper thinking and consciousness which he could easily access through the cloud. That scenario had the highest probability to be true.

“Oh, wow,” you replied hesitantly, gazing at the empty plate before you. “I—uh…I don’t think I’ve ever met an android like you.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice seemingly curious. “I guess maybe because we have an up-to-date processor….”

“Maybe you’re right.” You quietly scoffed. Are the organization’s labs really that advanced to even mimic human thought?

Smiling, you stood up from your seat. “Why don’t we take a breath of fresh air?”

Hansol glanced at you with a questioning look. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a trip to the grocery store.”

Hansol had several presumptions before he arrived to the West Martian Colony, before he had met you.

From what he had gathered in the cloud, human beings are always unpredictable. They were not run by any program, any command, not like his kind who were bound to the beck and call of a few strings of code. Humans follow their “heart” or whatever that means. They are selfish and cold, kind and warm.

Hansol was definitely apprehensive. He had never met any human being aside from his creator and a few scientists who would come and go into the labs like a cold draft. Yet despite that, Hansol knew deep down, that he doesn’t hate people. He certainly doesn’t hate you.

His brothers’ views towards humans were varying however. Hoshi, or Soonyoung was a lot more carefree, though he believed in the traditional roles of an android servant and a human master. Jihoon was too preoccupied with figuring what was wrong with him that he didn’t seem to care about them (though it seems like he has that sorted out now, according to his last status report). On the other hand, Joshua disliked people. He always made it clear to his brothers that humans were weak and that androids had long outpaced their creators.

Clear enough to make him murder people just to show you how he looks down on them.

It was interesting listening to them in past back in the labs. However, now that he had escaped and had met you, these memories began to resurface in his processor. Hansol had no idea why, to be honest. Was it because he was beginning to interact with a real human being in a much closer environment? That would be an interesting theory to explore, but right now, Hansol had to focus on where you were taking him.

“—are you sure you haven’t met another android before?” you asked him, the first part of your question he hadn’t caught. “I mean; don’t you have that info in your cloud?”

Hansol hummed, scratching his head. “I have my brothers and I met a few police androids, but other than that, I don’t have much experience. As for the cloud, it only stores pure information. We cannot derive actual experience from it.”

“Ah, I guess that’s right,” you replied, realizing that maybe it was like gathering information about something only through a book. It’s likely not going to make anyone instantly good at something.

For a while now, Hansol had been studying you. He was quiet about it, but he always wondered why you haven’t retired him yet. It was no secret that he was your assigned target, but surely, a mere plea from that night wouldn’t change your mind in an instant. Humans are so unpredictable.

“Hmm…we should sit here,” you suddenly said, stopping before a stone bench. “This has a great view of the shopping plaza.”

As you had said, it indeed held a spectacular view of the massive plaza just a few steps in front of you. There were several boutiques, cafes, stores of every shape and size—yet of course, it was as drab as it can be.

Everything was white, as Hansol stared at one giant building, from the stone ground to the shops, buildings and even the latex suits people wore as they walk around. The only redeeming feature it had were the ever-changing holographic ads shown on the white walls.

“Looks stupid, doesn’t it?” you remarked as you seated yourself on the bench with a cold expression.

“Is that why you’re not wearing those suits?” he asked as he sat beside you, glancing at the plaza.

“Everyone else in this city is stupid,” you told him, ignoring his question.

“Why?”

You snorted loudly. “Look at them Hansol. Why are they wearing those stupid suits from head to toe?  Look at how they’re all smiling so happily as if everything’s alright. It’s stupid.”

Hansol continued to stare at them, gazing at every face, every being in that plaza. Of course, he could remember all of them because of his impressive processor, yet despite that, he couldn’t understand what you were trying to say.

“But those are just clothes,” he replied, shrugging.

“Not sure if an andy like you would get it. But it’s more than a fashion trend. It’s an ideology.”

Ideology. He turned that word over and over inside his mind, trying to milk out anything substantial from that word alone. A way of thinking. What are these people thinking then whenever they decide to wear those body suits? Why would they do that?

Your questions seemed to have opened a whole new world for Hansol to explore. Human ideology; there were so many of that from the old century alone—liberalism, fascism, socialism. Why do humans subscribe to these thoughts and beliefs? And what would that mean to him as an android? Would he be able to subscribe to an ideology? Or had he always believed in one, just never realizing it?

If that’s the case, would he be able to find his purpose in it?

“What do they believe in?” he asked you, now fascinated.

Glad that he asked, you immediately replied.

“Purity. Cleanliness. Everything that is old is dirty, bad, and everything that is new is clean, good. I mean, I could understand why. It’s our fault that the Earth is basically a one big garbage dump. Maybe we just want to wash our hands clean from all of that guilt. I don’t know.”

“Why is that stupid then? I think that’s a valid reason.”

“That’s true,” you replied. “But that was how it was back then. It used to be an ideology. Now, after hundreds of years had passed, it had been so ingrained into the culture that no one really asks why is clean good and dirty, bad. People are being ostracized because of this and no one really understands why. It just seemed to have become desensitized. It’s true meaning forgotten.”

“What do you mean?”

You scoffed. “Ask one of them why they where those body suits and I bet you they would answer it with something like ‘it’s clean’ or some sort of bullshit. Ask why the Penfield mood organ is such a huge trend nowadays, or why they would submit themselves to chemicals just to induce happiness.”

“People couldn’t bear to feel any longer. Emotions have become so burdensome that it’s just easier to change your mood with one press of a button. They just do whatever other people do and, in the end, it became some sort of a mob mentality.”

For once, Hansol saw true despair in your eyes. Even if you appear to hate how the world is, he knew you were just deeply sad at how things ended up. Anger is after all, expressed when you are too sad to cry.

It struck a cord inside his processor, for some reason, as he felt the urge to do something to make you feel a little bit better. He didn’t understand why, but he knew what he should do.

Silently, Hansol took your hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. He felt warm, was what you immediately thought while you anticipated what he was about to do.

“It must be lonely living in this city. There are people all around you but they all feel like ghosts. Passing by, passing through the walls and then disappear without a trace,” he began as he kept on gazing at your connected hands, talking as if he was expressing his actual thoughts.

“Hansol…?”

“That’s why, as this city becomes more and more alienating…” he continued; his honest eyes piercing right through yours. “I’ll be your friend.”

For a moment, you gazed at him, too stunned to even utter a sound. It was just a simple proposal of friendship, yet why does your heart feel like it’ll burst from the seams?

“W-why…?” you asked, becoming more and more conscious about how he was gripping your hand so tightly; his thumb brushing your skin in slow soothing circles.

“Why, you ask…I’m not even sure myself, but,” he replied, “Maybe I just want to make that sad look on your face disappear.”

You pursed your lips, head totally blank for any response.

You shouldn’t just say that to anyone, you know?

Not to me who’ve never felt something like this before.

The sound of lasers fired. Muffled voices; indiscernible against the background battle noise.

It was another day out in the field, and you were lucky there were five of you hunting a military grade android. During hunts like this, you don’t usually share the earn; it was all for the experience. Besides, how much would you even get if the bounty was divided upon five people?

You zeroed in on your prey. Shooting a laser beam at its direction, you deliberately let it miss as the android dodged it. When it had stopped running, you slid on the gravel and kicked its feet off the ground, then turned around faster than it could recover. As you aimed your two laser guns at it, the image of Hansol flashed in your brain, which made you hesitate to press the trigger.

“YN! Watch your head!”

To return to your apartment with a bandaged forehead and a huge frown on your face was enough to let the door slam behind you. It was both stupid and humiliating to falter in the middle of a simple mission like that, especially if the reason was the android living in your apartment.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to retire Hansol several months before yet here you are still hung up and getting more and more sentimental towards him as the days pass by.

You couldn’t help it. You were only human.

If he wakes you up in the morning with a smile and some PB & J; if he talks about his sudden interest in various things with an eager look; if he greets you as you return home from work, dinner on the table and then asking you about your day; if he holds your hand and says he’ll be your friend—could you even stop yourself from softening up?

You were clearly angry with yourself to let this whole thing get to this point.

Were you really that lonely that you would even find comfort in an android?

Tossing all of your equipment—V-T scale, laser gun and leather bag—on your worn-out sofa, you went straight to your bedroom and found the subject of your frustrations, sitting on the bed and looking at the window with a rather pondering gaze.

“Say, YN,” Hansol started, without even waiting another second to pass by. He probably knew that you were going home the moment you left the office.

“What?” you replied, unbuckling the holsters on your belt and all the safety gear you had on your body. “I’m not in a good mood so make it quick. I just got hammered by an android.”

Before he replied to you, Hansol decided to turn around and look at you with those eyes that seem to gouge the truth from the depths of your being. It made you halt all your fussing and returned his stare back at him.

“How do you know the difference between an android and a human being?” he asked which made you turn your head slightly. What a simple question to ask a bounty hunter.

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” you replied as you placed your hands over your hips. “Humans have empathy while androids don’t.”

“But what if something was invented to make android experience empathy? What then?”

You blinked several times at his second question and then began chuckling. “You mean an empathy organ? Sorry to burst your bubble but that’s not even real. It’s an urban legend.”

Hansol made a side eye as he pondered what he was going to say next, his expression basically unchanged.

“Just hypothetically speaking, if an empathy organ does exist, how would you know the difference now?”

“Eh…if we’re hypothetically speaking, then I don’t really know. I wouldn’t be able to hunt anymore if that’s the case. I can’t risk making a mistake and kill someone, not to mention that if androids begin crying before me and beg me for their lives, I wouldn’t be able to shoot them at all.”

As soon as you uttered those words, you paused and contemplated.

You gazed back at him—realization dawning on you; your eyes wide with incredulity.

It was no longer a matter of if. Someone had already begged you for their life and you didn’t shoot them.

No. No way.

That’s not possible.

At your silence, Hansol never confirmed or denied your realization and simply stared at you with those powerful eyes; waiting for you to finally digest it all.

“This isn’t hypothetical at all, is it?” you finally asked, your expression uneasy.

“No, it isn’t.”

You sighed frustratingly but it made sense.

If Hansol really has an empathy organ, everything he did—asking you to trust him, his un-Android like responses, him holding your hand—everything made so much sense. And while it did provide some answers, it gave you more questions as well.

First of all…

“H-How is that possible?!”

Hansol shrugged at your sudden outburst. “That’s why we escaped from the organization. We don’t know how it works or if it’s really installed inside of us, so we went our separate ways.”

“So…so…!” you pointed your finger at him, still incredulous. “There’s more of you?”

“Yeah. All of the SVT-class androids have empathy organs installed while we were being made in the organization’s laboratories. At least that’s how Jihoon suspected it.”

“Jihoon?”

“Yes. SVT-class Type-07 Woozi. He stayed behind the labs to search for our original creator. He did find her daughter and they’re working on an experiment to test the validity and the effectivity of the empathy organ.”

For a minute you felt like the ground was going to swallow you whole. There was too much go on, too much information that you can’t properly process them all. Falling on your knees to the ground as you leaned against the bed for support, you felt like you were going to have an aneurysm.

“YN? Are you ok?” Hansol dashed to your side in Mach speed, his hand easily finding your back.

For Pete’s sake! You’re the reason why I’m not ok!!

“I’ll get you a glass of water and some ice for your head injury. It seems like it could be the cause of your headache,” he told you and the disappeared towards the kitchen, completely oblivious of your dilemma.

Goddamn it.

Didn’t Choi Seungcheol retire Woozi already? If the andy’s still alive then did he fail the mission? If he did, then why did he confirm that he retired Woozi?

And then it seems like there are more empathy organs out there. Not to mention I’m living with an andy who’s supposed to have one.

It wasn’t even two minutes before Hansol was back with a glass of water which you promptly drank, and then allowed him to settle himself behind you while he was giving a cold compress to your head—all done without complaints because you were too lost in your thoughts.

No. No. No.

An empathy organ is just a myth! Something like the Holy Grail or something! It’s impossible for Hansol to have one!

But…it just fits so well with all the strange things he had done so far! Who android would hold your hand just because you looked sad?

Wait. Get yourself together, YN.

Hansol is just a weird android.

He’s totally chill and a bit spaced out. He sometimes says really deep stuff and then comforts you so gently that your problems just melt away.

That’s…That’s what androids are supposed to be right?

Without even realizing, Hansol had already wrapped his arms around your waist. It was only until you were done with your internal monologue that you realized the warmth you felt from behind you.

“Wha-what are you doing!” You exclaimed, though still unable to move because of how he was holding on to you tightly.

“Oh, this?” he began, completely oblivious to your embarrassment. “I’m embracing you. I wanted to know if it feels as warm as what the cloud tells me.”

You groaned, struggling to get free. “Don’t patronize me! I know what a freakin’ hug is! Now, let me go!”

Instead of opening his arms, Hansol instead pulled you closer to him, making you flush even more. “Sorry. Just endure it a bit longer. The data I’ve gathered is still incomplete. Besides, now that you know about the empathy organ, it’s safe for me to test it on you, right?”

“What! I never—”

As soon as you met his eyes, you were unable to finish the rest of your words. There he was again with those eyes that just makes you screech into a complete halt. It was so intense that it almost gave you shivers down your spine.

“Do you really hate it?” he asked again. “I’ll let you go.”

You allowed a few moments to pass by—the sound of passing cars and the incessant ticking of the clock was what you could hear, as well as your faint breaths.

“Fine. Do whatever you like,” you finally conceded and leaned against chest. It was warm.

With a calm smile, he nuzzled against your shoulder. “How did you get that injury?”

“Oh, this? I almost got my head whacked by an android,” you replied plainly, almost forgetting that you were actually having a bad day because of what had happened.

“That’s unusual.”

“You could say that again. I just got…distracted.”

Hansol raised his brows at your reply; noting the pause between your words. Since he cannot place his chin on your head, he decided to prop himself on your shoulder, his lips near your ear.

“Was it because of me?”

You jumped at the sound of his voice being so near to your ear. It made you ticklish and pulled back away from him just for a tiny bit.

“You’re too close!” you exclaimed, flushed and uncharacteristically nervous. “And I didn’t get distracted because of you!”

He sighed at your response. “Sorry. But I’m glad it wasn’t because me. I’ll be troubled if I distract you from your work.”

Pursing your lips, you only returned to your original position in silence. You have been distracted me from work since the beginning.

“Maybe I can help you?” Hansol continued talking when you didn’t reply.

“With what?” you chuckled cynically. “Hunting androids? Don’t you feel bad about killing your own kind?”

“Well, some humans don’t feel bad if they kill other people. What’s the difference?”

You scoffed. “Touché,”

“I’ll help you if you’re in trouble.” He pressed on and you could only groan in exasperation. While he tends to be a bit spacey, he can also be stubborn. It’s not like you can stop him if you refused.  

“You’re weirdly obstinate—”

About to add an explanation, your words were cut short however by the doorbell. You stood up to get it but got dizzy from the sudden change that Hansol decided that you better sit down and rest.

As he padded his way across the living room, Hansol opened the door to see no one except for a bag of food on the ground. He tried to look around and assessed the surroundings, yet he found nothing suspicious.

Confused, he leaned his head to the side and eventually decided to take the food inside. It didn’t seem harmful.

“Wonder who that was,” he muttered before going back inside.

As a freeloader, Hansol took it upon himself the responsibility of maintaining your apartment in tip-top shape. From the floor to the ceiling; to every nook and cranny he finds—he made sure that everything was sparkling clean to the point that you thought you went to a different apartment when you went home.

It was easy to pretend he was a regular every day helper android since he always kept to himself at most times, and other than visiting a regular antique vinyl shop in an indefinite area of the city, he never really did anything out of the blue.

Hansol had two leeks, one in each hand as he assessed which one was the best using his state-of-the-art processor. The engineers at the labs probably never thought his military grade processor would be used in this way but it was extremely helpful. He tossed the one on his left to his grocery cart and the other back to the stall—concluding that it was already at 40% freshness and most of the chlorophyll and other biominerals had died out.

One of his responsibilities was making sure that groceries and other supplies in your apartment were well-stocked. And while it did make you furious at how he easily hacked into your bank account to access money, you eventually gave him permission to go on grocery trips for you because of how he efficiently did everything.

He turned his cart to the left, its squeaky rusting wheels making it hard to keep it moving in a straight line.

Next stop was the chicken aisle. He remembers seeing a photo of you in the cloud as you enjoyed a bucket of chicken nuggets, and he plans to make them for dinner that night. Halting the troublesome cart before the freezers, Hansol checked the display if there were any of the chicken nuggets he wanted to buy.

“This one’s too expensive…” he told himself in contemplation.

“Hi! I’m Martin of Fresh Daily Chicken! How may I help you?”

And there were those androids again.

Hansol knew they were just following their program but it was getting on his nerves. They kept on bothering him every single time he went out that it was very tempting to just dissemble them in front of his eyes.

“I’m fine, Martin. You can go help someone else,” he replied, wondering if there was an edge to his tone as he returned the chicken back to the freezer.

Instead of leaving though, Martin gripped Hansol’s arm tightly, as the other stopped and glared at the android with suspicion. In a beat, Hansol flicked his hand away and stood still for a moment, assessing the situation at hand. Nanoseconds pass, he finally realized what was happening.

“Joshua. What are you doing here?”

His voice was filled with animosity; his eyes like fire flickering. Hansol knew his brother was up to no good as soon as he showed up using a hacked android.

“Sharp as ever, aren’t we?” the android replied, the tone of its usual monotonous voice reflecting the malice of the hacker behind it all. “I guess I should expect no less from an android made to evaluate things.”

Hansol wasn’t having any of this small talk. “If you don’t have anything important to say, I’m leaving.”

“And what? Play house with your bounty hunter?” the android sneered. “She doesn’t trust you as much as you trust her, you know?”

Hansol threw daggers at the android with his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

It made a rather hollow chuckle. “Did you forget how despicable humans are? She’s planning on retiring you and your pleading won’t help you now. That’s why…”

“That’s why what?” Hansol felt uneasy.

“That’s why I’ll help you finish her off first.”

Like the wind howling, the android’s words felt like a siren blaring right into his ears. If he had any blood, it would’ve been boiling by now. If only looks could kill, the android would’ve been long dead.

“No. I don’t need your help and I never will. Get fuck out of here before I—”

“Fine, fine,” it responded rather dismissively, unperturbed by Hansol’s threats. “But if you need me, I’m just one call away.” 

And just like that, Joshua disappeared. “Hi! I’m Martin of Fresh Daily Chicken! How may I help you?”

Hnasol sighed and returned to his grocery shopping.

“Empathy organ?”

A boisterous laugh was all you could hear across the otherwise silent donut shop. You frowned, clearly annoyed.

“Didn’t know ya believe in those bullshit urban legends, YN.” Your boss replied, crumbs falling down his shirt, and thus has been looked at disgustedly by the people around you.

“Just answer the damn question, please,” you replied, giving him a not-too-pleased expression.

“What can I say?” he shrugged, “It ain’t real.”

You hold off clicking your tongue, and instead averted your gaze to the window beside you, towards the quiet concrete and asphalt streets of West Mars. Thinking that you could achieve something by bribing your boss with donuts, was a dashed dream. He easily dismissed the notion, now munching on some more donuts you had bought with your own pay.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. I just want to hear what you know about it,” you insisted, pushing your plate of donuts to his side.

He gulped in some coffee. “Well, for one, we don’t know where it is. Rumors say it was made by an engineer in the org, and they died without telling anyone.”

An engineer in the org? You felt like you have two pieces of the puzzle right below your nose, yet you couldn’t wad through the multitude of memories you had.

“Some say it was silently waiting in that engineer’s lab, but not gonna lie, doll, I myself don’t think it’s in there. Can’t be too easy,” he eagerly chomped on a bavarian. “It was prolly never built, kinda a blueprint of some sort.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Your boss chuckled again. “It’s just not possible! Look, have you ever heard of the phrase ‘good in theory but not in practice’? It’s just like that. You can’t build something science can’t even understand.”

You slumped on your chair, disappointed at his replies.

“C’mon now, doll. Stop digging around urban legends and focus on getting more andys to retire,” he continued when you didn’t reply. “Besides, you still got that SVT andy on your plate, don’t ya? Better set your eyes on that. These military grades ain’t just your ordinary tin foil man.”

Sighing, you silently berated yourself for letting this situation go out of hand.

“Alright. I’m still working on it though.”

You really weren’t. The fact that Hansol was still alive and kicking after several months since you the assignment dropped to your lap was proof that you were procrastinating. And becoming weaker.

You cursed yourself.

“Just a little warning for you. These andys, like the SVT line, are notoriously good at analog hacking. So, do be careful with handling them. Just because they told you you’re friends, ain’t gonna stop them from killin’ you when it suits them. They’re smarter than you’d expect.”

Pursing your lips, you felt your boss’ words weigh down upon you like a pile of stones.

You shouldn’t have trusted Hansol.

It was a gamble you shouldn’t have made in the first place.

The sun was already high and bright; blinding your eyes with its garish lighting as you stood before an android you just made into Swiss cheese with the number of holes you created a few seconds ago. Kicking off the dead weight, you decided to find the other one.

Another day out in the field means another chance to falter and fail even in a simple mission. You had already hesitated once and it had cost you a head injury. If you hesitate again, what would it cost you this time around?

It was getting into your nerves.

Was it truly wise to trust Hansol all this time?

Even if he had no intention of hurting you, it was your job to retire runaway andys before they harm anyone. Therefore, it makes sense to shoot him dead with a laser gun; no questions asked.

Then what was stopping you?

You stalked the andy a few meters away from you like a lion in a hunt; eyes laser focused and ears picking up every minute shuffle. The laser guns on both your hands were ready to shoot yet it wasn’t the right time or place.

Running a few meters away, you shot a few laser beams into the air; the sound echoing across the apartment rooftops in resounding waves. Your target tensed up; alarmed at how the sound was nearby.

You laid your trap.

The android began calculating the most efficient way out and then stood up from its hiding place, unaware that it was the moment you were waiting for. It jumped towards the nearest building and crouched beside a water tank, sniffing the air of your presence.

You grinned. “Looking for me?”

The android looked up, its eyes blank but you knew it was surprised. With two laser guns on both your hands, you aimed at it from the top of the water tank, the sun casting a glare over you. Lunging from its position, it made a narrowing escape as it sacrificed one leg to a laser beam.

It was all over.

You caught up and then threw it to the ground with one harsh kick. Stepping over its torso; effectively pinning it down, you took one good look.

“Did you know that it takes about three minutes for the Nexus 7 processor to calculate the next best move?” you told the android, despite knowing it wouldn’t really listen to you. “Enough time for me to set you up.”

“In the past, it only took you a minute.”

The android rebuked you, making you scrunch up your brows. How the hell did it know that?

“You’ve grown weaker, bounty hunter,” it continued, a grin creeping up to its lips; making its rather soulless expression more unnerving. “Could it be that you like us now?”

“Shut up,” you replied, aiming the two guns at its head. “That’s not going to stop me from retiring you.”

“What if I beg for my life then? Will you spare me now?”

You stopped.

The hands clutching your guns became unsteady. Its words zeroed in at your predicament just like how you had obliterated its leg with numerous laser beams—mocking you; taunting you with your weakness for Hansol.

“You think you could separate androids into your moralistic categories of good and bad? That android is only using you, you know? Like poison, gradually weakening your resolve until you could no longer pick up your laser gun. And when that time comes, he would strike and he will kill you.”

Your temper flared up.

You pressed the triggers furiously, your foot holding it still as laser after laser shot through its head. Even if the head was no longer recognizable, you continued to shoot just to please the rage and frustration weighing inside of you.

As the concrete beneath your feet began to weaken, you eventually stopped; realizing what you were doing all this time. Breaths heavy and eyes wide, you stared at the android which became, more or less, bits and pieces of burnt metal and hydraulic cables.

It still irritated you, so kicked it as far as you could so you wouldn’t be able to see it.

When you returned to the office to hand over the post-hunt report, Morrison was waiting for you t your desk; the serious and alarmed look on his face making you anxious.

“Morrison,” you acknowledged him, tossing your report to your table as well as your various work equipment. “What brings you here?”

“YN. We need to talk,” he replied, his tone of voice not so different that you had originally assumed which only heightened the tension of the situation.

As you followed behind him, you wondered what he wanted—was it about your dwindling work performance? Are you getting fired?

You only knew the answer to your questions when he stopped by a deserted hallway and then faced you. It was all your fears could ever hope for.

“Please tell me YN, that the person living in your apartment isn’t the SVT andy, Vernon.”

Your heart, along with your gut immediately dropped.

“W-what…”

“A few months ago, I saw you with someone walking around the city. I thought it was your boyfriend so I ignored it. The other day however, I heard you got injured so I went and delivered you dinner. That’s when I realized that the person you’re with was the SVT andy.”

If only the ground could swallow you whole. If only you could disappear at that exact moment. You had no explanation. You had been found out. You had nothing in your defense and the only thing you could do was hang your head low and avert your gaze out of guilt and shame.

“YN…”

“I’m sorry…” you replied, voice just above a whisper.

“Is that andy holding you hostage? Is it threatening you?” Morrison asked out of concern as soon as he saw you. “I could help—”

“No. This is my own doing,” you replied. “This is my own fault.”

“Then…why?” he asked. “Among all of us here, you were the one who hated them the most. Have you become sentimental towards them?”

“How the hell would I know!” You screamed as you tremble in both rage and despair. “Do I look like I’m enjoying it right now? Look at how weak I’ve become! Look how I almost died just because I hesitated to pull the trigger!”

“YN…I—”

“Shut up. All of you shut up,” you cut him off. “This is my problem and I’ll solve it on my own.”

Turning to the side, you marched down the hallway and left Morrison stunned and worried about you.

You tightened your fists until your knuckles turned white. Guilt, shame, anger—everything swirled inside of you like a thick soup; slowly pushing you downwards to a spiral of turmoil.

Androids would always be androids no matter what they say. Hansol was only using the way he knew he would survive. Even if it meant deceiving you.

You were angry.

More to yourself than anybody however.

How could you let yourself be swayed by an android’s sweet talking? You felt like an idiot; trusting his words, getting soft and sentimental for a mere android. You were weak and you hated it. Like slow moving magma, your rage was scalding you from the inside until you could no longer bear it. You pushed pass the entrance way and escaped to the streets of West Mars.

How could you be so susceptible? How could you allow him to easily manipulate you using your own desperate need for companionship? How could you allow yourself to succumb to such a baser kind of human emotion?

As a bounty hunter, you should’ve tossed all of them aside a long time ago. You should’ve been erased that weakness when you first began.

Yes, it was lonely. But in order to succeed, one must be alone on top of the mountain with no one to depend on.

You allowed the day to pass you by. As the afternoon became night and the flashing lights of the city returned to illuminate the streets with animations at a million frames per second, you sat high above a building and watch it al unfold like flowers blooming at night. As the dark skies slowly encroached the sunset reflecting the red dunes of Mars, you waited for the exact moment to solve all of your problems.

Problems of your own doing is something you have to solve by yourself. It was your fault that you believed in him when you clearly knew you shouldn’t have. Even if it weighs your heart, the guilt you felt was heavier.

You shouldn’t have allowed things to get to this point. Thus, you reap what you sow.

Head still swimming, you returned to your apartment at the wee hours of the morning. It was the perfect time; the calculated time—because you knew Hansol was at the living room, charging up next to a wireless charging station he himself had built. You saw him at that exact position; sitting, leaning against the wall with head hung low as a circular light glowed underneath the skin of his nape.

You knew what you have to do.

He was defenseless before you; asleep and unaware of what you are about to do. It was perfect this way— he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t feel anything.

As you looked at his sleeping figure, you couldn’t help but notice how his now dark hair tumbling against his forehead in a soft caress, how his long eyelashes padded gently across his skin, how his soft breaths echoed across the room. Even at these last moments, he still caught you off guard.

Yet beautiful things erode and fade away like the fleeting spring.

You raised the laser gun to his forehead, your finger already by the trigger.

You can do it YN. Just one press and he’ll be gone. All your problems will be gone, and you’ll be able to return to your everyday life. You’ve done this so many times already.

He’s only an android.

‘…Vernon is my model name, but I want to go by my own name.’

He can be easily manufactured again and again like a replaceable object.

‘…As an android who isn’t exactly ‘alive’, I’d like to know what mark I would leave.’

Your hands trembled as your chest tightened into a vice grip. You couldn’t breathe.

Stop it.

He’s only using you for his own means. You don’t matter to him.

‘I’ll be your friend.’

‘Maybe I just want to make that sad look on your face disappear.’

He looked so peaceful, so innocent and so forgiving. Not like you who had been dirtied by the sins of humanity. You knew that even if you shot him, he would still smile and say ‘I understand.’

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

He’s just faking everything. He’s just deceiving you YN.

‘Thank you for trusting me.’

You screamed one painful cry; your knees giving way and sunk to the carpet in a thud. Hands propping you up as tears continued to stream down your face, you couldn’t stop crying all the pain you held inside for all these years. It was too painful.

You can’t do it.

“Just kill me now, goddamn it!” you shouted yet your eyes were looking at the floor, too scared to know if he was awake or not. “If you’re planning to kill me eventually, then do it now! Kill me now while I still trust you!”

In the midst of your endless sobs, you felt strong arms pull you into a tight embrace; wrapping you with all the love and warmth he could muster in one single action. You could only bury yourself to his chest, clutching to his shirt as if you were holding on to him for support.

“Kill me now, Hansol…”

“I won’t kill you YN. I have no intentions of ever hurting you,” he whispered as he brushed your hair gently with his fingers.

“How could you fucking say that!” you exclaimed; screams muffled. “I keep on hurting you! Hell, I even pointed a gun to you while you were sleeping! How…how could you just forgive me like that…”

“You only did what you needed to do, and if you need to kill me, then I wouldn’t mind dying. I understand that there are things you must sacrifice.”

As soon as you heard those words, you looked up to him with aghast. You could see that despite what he had said, you saw a flicker of pain in his eyes; a sadness that was accepted because there are things you simply cannot change.

“W-why…?” you asked as your heart poured out for him. “Why are you saying that even though it hurts you…?”

Hansol made a small smile and wiped away the tear stains away from your cheeks. “Because you’re the first person who ever trusted me, and it made me so happy to stay by your side all this time. That’s why even if it hurts, I feel relieved that I can at least make you happy in return.”

Stabbing pain filled your chest as if you were being pierced through by laser beams numerous times. You could feel yourself tremble as tears threatened to spill from your eyes once again; grasping to his shirt as if he might slip away any time soon.

“You fucking idiot…!” you muttered through your sobs. “You think I can still retire you after saying that? I can’t do it. I can’t…Hansol…I don’t know how or why but you matter so much to me now.”

His hand that was on your cheeks continued to caress you as gently as he could; not letting you go until you stopped crying. For some reason, he felt touched that you were pouring out all of your thoughts to him among all people in the world.

“I always kept myself so busy all this time just to distract me from all the loneliness I was feeling. I always try to be tough and cold so that my emotions wouldn’t get the best of me. But…but you showed me something I had thrown away a long time ago. You cared for me even though I tried to kill you so many times and it hurts so much how you are able to forgive me like that. I don’t deserve any of these, Hansol. I don’t deserve you.”

As he comforted you, he could feel his chest swell with so much emotion. You were crying for him, and he couldn’t help but share a bit of that pain as well. Picking up your hand, he slowly intertwined his fingers around yours and gazed at you with those eyes that easily seized you; body and soul.

“I feel like I should be saying something now but I don’t know what,” he whispered. “That’s why, I’ll just show you how I feel.”

Cupping your cheek with his hand, Hansol slowly reduced the distance between the two of you until his lips met yours in a soft and gentle kiss. It was warm and peaceful and light—as if everything which held you down were released and swept away by the cool breeze. You held on to his hand tightly, never letting go of this exact moment as you etched it vividly into your memory.

As the both of you pulled away, you gave him a small bashful smile.

“I think ‘I like you’ would be the best thing to say,” you whispered to him as he gave a toothy grin.

“You finally smiled,” he remarked as he allowed your foreheads to touch.

“Because of you.”

The both of you stayed that way until you felt your heart calm down. That night seemed to have uprooted all of your being—everything that you have built upon yourself for all these years was turned upside down. It was like a transformation; yet rather than frightening, it felt cathartic in some sense.

“Say, YN,” Hansol started, breaking the companiable silence the two of you shared. “Why did you become a bounty hunter?”

“Hm?” you hummed, gazing at your carpet as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Good question. Why did I become a bounty hunter?”

“You don’t know the answer?”

“I do know why,” you replied as you became more contemplative. “I think I was just too angry at the world. Angry that I was all alone; angry that no one really cared. So, I searched for ways to release that anger. That’s when I found myself wanting to be a bounty hunter.”

He pulled you closer, nuzzling to your shoulder; wanting to give comfort to the both of you. “Did you grow up like that?”

Amused by his question, you chuckled. “The thing is, when you are made from a glass incubator, it feels like you’re an artificial existence. Even if there are parents or siblings, most of them just kind of want to play house or something. When they’re done, you get thrown out. That’s it. And somehow just like that, I ended up all alone.”

Hansol was quiet, feeling like you weren’t done talking yet.

“When I met you…when I got to spend time with you, it felt like I was in a foreign territory. I wasn’t used being taken care of. It’s always just me so, I was scared as fuck that maybe this wonderful thing wouldn’t really last. That maybe you were just deceiving me and I was being an idiot for believing that life would finally give me some slack.”

You continued. “That’s why, I thought…let’s just end this with my own two hands. That way I can still have my dignity intact.”

As soon those words left your lips, the android embracing you hugged you tighter—a silent declaration that he was never going to let you go; that you deserved better and he will give everything just to make you happy.

“I don’t think I can ever leave you, YN. I was lucky that it was you who I met that night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to understand myself or what I was feeling. I wouldn’t be able to experience a normal everyday life if I hadn’t met you. You have become someone important to me as well.”

At that night, as you finally fell asleep on Hansol’s shoulders, he easily carried you to your bed and gently laid you there without making a sound. Unable to resist, he slipped under the covers and silently watched your chest breathing in and out.

It was the first time he felt this way. It was unbelievable.

Combing your hair as softly as he could, Hansol contemplated this future with you. He was incredibly happy, if that was how the beautiful feeling in his chest should be called—how you embraced him tightly, how you grinned at him and held his hand. Those were things he could never forget.

With that said, he had to ensure that everything would stay as it is as long as it could. Using the built-in network among the SVT-line androids, he made a call.

Beep. Beep.

Click.

“Hello, brother? It’s me, Hansol. I need your help.”

The sun was still shining like any other day; as if it was unbothered by the egregious happenings of your life. Just like how it was during your first day as a bounty hunter.

Yet everything was different now. The anger that you held on to for far too long was released to the polluted city air just like scattered ashes of a bygone age. Now you have to rebuild yourself from scratch; to start anew and live differently than what you were doing all these years. Yet you weren’t alone this time, you had Hansol to support you along the way as the both of you rediscover life and the whole point of it.

That’s why it’s important to cut the few loose strings you had and tie them securely so they wouldn’t unravel in the future.

It was your last day on the job. Your last hunt.

“YN.”

You heard Morrison call you, turning to the direction where you had heard him. You were about to leave with your hovercraft to the designated location where the andy was reported yet he had stopped before you ever could.

“Last time, I—”

“It’s ok,” you cut him off. “I think I needed it to realize what I truly want to do with my life. Being a bounty hunter taught me a lot but I guess we just overgrow things.”

“Are you sure?” he asked you.

“Yes, you could say I was happy with my decision.” You scratched the nape of your neck. “You know, I think I understand now why Choi Seungcheol left.”

Morrison grinned. “Oh, really now?”

“Yeah. I think he realized the same thing as I did,” you replied, hands on your pockets. You just can’t live with anger in your heart.

Your partner genuinely smiled at you and give you a pat on the back. “Well then, it was great working with you, YN. You’ve been phenomenal.”

“Thank you. It was a pleasure working with you as well Morrison,” you grinned. “Now, time to go for my last hunt.”

“Good luck. Don’t go easy on the andy now,” he replied while you hopped into your hovercraft.

“You bet I won’t,” you replied, smiling. “Well, see you later then!”

With those words, you turned on the hovercraft as it slowly ascended to the skies. You could see down below Morrison who was looking up at you with a bittersweet smile on his face. This business was indeed dying.

“Alright. Time for my swan song.”

Your destination for today was in Sector 12, where all the warehouses and cargo facilities were located as they enter the West Martian colony. The andy in question was a normal escapee posing as a cargo boy—which was as common as it could get.

You hoped that your last andy should’ve at least been a little more challenging. But alas, you can’t have everything.

Turning the steering wheel to the side, you avoided a tall building and continued cruising through the sector with nothing much in mind. That is until something entered the hovercraft; making it shake through the skies like a rogue vehicle.

You clung to the wheel as you braced the impact, avoiding getting tossed to the air like a pancake. Still recovering from the shock, you were greeted by a punch which completely obliterated the hovercraft’s UI and had just missed your head by a hair.

Turning around, you saw that it was the android you were supposed to retire today—seemingly fallen from god knows where to your lap. Just like how Hansol just came to you that night. Lucky.

“Don’t underestimate me, fucker,” you exclaimed as you grabbed its arm with both your hands and levered it with your shoulder to the air, sending it flying to one of the buildings below. Taking your two trusty laser guns, you jumped off of the already derailing hovercraft before it plummeted to the ground in an explosion of fire and smoke.

Landing safely to one of the rooftops, you spotted the andy running away from you.

“Hey! Don’t get cowardly now!”

Shouting, you continued to shoot laser beams at its direction, pissed that it was playing some game of tag. With a head start of a few meters and an exceptional speed, there was no way you could ever catch up to an android. The only way you could ever gain an advantage was to play the strategy game.

Disappearing from view, you hid yourself as you pursued it; minding your distance so it wouldn’t be able to detect your presence with any of its scanners. Since the andy you were after had a Nexus 6 processor, it can see you through thermal readings which had a scanning radius of a few meters.

Confused of your vanishing act, the android in question stopped running and looked around. There was no sign of you yet you can see it using a special set of goggles which was luckily inside your pocket than in the hovercraft.

As it walked in search of you, you fired your laser guns to the distance which predictably alarmed the android and dashed to where it came from. And just like that, you were able to lay your ambush—jumping out from high ground and trapping it in place.

When do they even learn? You’ve done this technique so many times that it was hardly clever strategy to you anymore.

You shot it with your laser gun, missing its head in just a few centimeters. That however, was a fatal mistake as it swerved your leg around, tripping you to the ground in the process. Without stopping, the android then aimed for your head with its fist which could’ve easily broke your skull if not for the fact that you rolled out of the way just in time.

Even if your head was still reeling and you were still on the ground, you kicked its torso with both your feet as it staggered and lost balance. You ran off somewhere, picking up both your laser guns as it continued to pursue you.

Man, I judged this way too early.

Now that the tables have turned, the both you found yourselves inside a warehouse complex devoid of any human or andy. It was kind of strange that there was no one in sight except for the both of you, yet you shouldn’t really be wondering about that when an andy is after you with a huge metal pipe.

Now that you think about it, why was it even running after you? And why did it attack you in the first place? Shouldn’t it be running away from you?

You couldn’t find time to answer those questions when a pipe was hurled at your direction, hitting the cargo container you were hiding behind and piercing through the metal. You could’ve died if not for your quick reflexes. Clearly annoyed at being in the defensive, you faced the android square on and fired your laser guns at it as fast as you could.

A laser beam hit it on its chest and then on its legs, creating rather large gaping holes on its body. When you were near enough, you kicked it hard; crashing against the doors of the warehouse which opened upon impact. In one final blow, you shot through its processor at point blank.

It fell down to the ground in one swoop. It was all over. The final hunt was done.

“YN…?”

You heard your name being called by a familiar voice you never expected to hear while you were in the middle of a hunt. In an instant, you turned your head and saw with great surprise the person you had trusted the most.

“Hansol? What are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” he answered back. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Looks like the final guest has arrived.” A figure from the shadows appeared; a gentle expression was on his face yet there was something dark looming just underneath his presence. “Took me some time to get you moving but looks like it went well.”

“Joshua, what’s the meaning of this?” Hansol asked, his eyes dark like coal; brimming with suspicion and fury.

“Joshua? Isn’t he one of your brothers and wasn’t he the one responsible for the AI hack that night?” You asked Hansol with incredulity bearing in your eyes.

You were standing there in the midst of it all, mouth ajar and eyes wide; unable to follow what was happening. You didn’t understand why Hansol was there or why he seemed to dislike his brother. If anything, it all seemed to suspicious.

“You’re right, YN. I am one of Hansol’s brothers and the AI hack was my work,” the android calmly replied which made you feel uneasy.

“And there’s no meaning at all, brother. I just wanted to meet YN,” he replied, shrugging with a carefree smile. “And besides, you did ask for my help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I came because you threatened to hurt her.”

Hurt me? You dared to take a look at Joshua who seemed to notice your apprehension yet only smiled so serenely—making it even more menacing.

“Ah, as honest as ever, huh?” Joshua replied as he pocketed his hands. “Or not.”

There was no denying that Hansol gazed at Joshua with contempt; the first time you have ever seen him display such a negative emotion. You now wondered what Joshua had done in order to push Hansol, who was as kind as ever, to treat him that way.

“Did you forget what happened to that family of six a few months ago? You know, that one in Palmaide.”

Joshua continued when Hansol refused to reply. You blinked several times at his words, feeling like you were familiar with the story one way or another. At the mere mention of the memory, Hansol immediately grit his teeth; sending death glares to the other android.

“Oh? Why are you looking at me like that?” Joshua asked, and then grinned, a malicious lilt in his voice appearing all of the sudden. “You didn’t tell YN, did you?”

“Tell me what?” you answered back with a clipped tone. “Tell me what, Hansol?”

In the midst of your questions, Hansol could only furrow his brow and purse his lips. He turned his head to the side, unable to face you.

“I-I…I’m sorry. I just…I always wanted to tell you…” he began, his voice unsteady.

“What is it?” you asked again, completely alarmed and afraid of what he might say.

“I—”

“He’s partly responsible for six deaths in the Palmaide Apartments.”

Joshua was the one who answered for him; malaise dripping from every word like thick poison. You could only gaze at him with disbelief and turned to Hansol for an explanation yet he couldn’t even look at you.

“Is that true, Hansol?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper; smelling the scent of betrayal.

“I…I didn’t want to hurt them,” he answered you as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. “Joshua was—”

“I did most of the killing but he just stood there, you know? Watching as I sliced open everyone and bury them to the wall,” Joshua interrupted. “Why the wall you ask? Don’t you think human guts look pretty when displayed?”

“You sick fucker!”

You pointed both laser guns to Joshua who only looked at you curiously even though you were shaking with anger. He seemed totally unperturbed by everything; a testament that he was far from sane.

“You shouldn’t be pointing your gun at me,” he replied as he leaned his head to the side. “Hansol was only lying to you, you know…saying he cares about you. Soon enough, I’ll be dissecting you and he’ll just watch me do it with those eyes you love so much.”

You wondered if the empathy organ really exists; wondering if Joshua had one or if Hansol had one. They could really be deceiving you for all you know. Back and forth, you tossed possibilities and motives inside your head, unsure of who to believe.

In the end, you gradually moved the guns to Hansol’s direction; your eyes meeting his. He looked hurt, but you could never really tell if that was real or something faked. Even if you had so many years of experience, the true test of your instincts was at that exact moment. It was only you who could determine who to trust.

Joshua grinned at the whole situation.

“You, move!”

You ordered which Hansol promptly followed, walking to the left and in front of Joshua. Still with the guns pointed at him, you continued to shout.

“Hansol, explain to me what happened.”

With your demands, Hansol flinched and then bit his lip, scared of what you would say if he told you the truth yet obeyed you nonetheless.

“At that time, I was so shocked—I just…I didn’t know what to do,” he began as he fiddled with his fingers. “I tried to stop Joshua…and we got into a fight. I lost and the next thing I knew I was in the wall as well…”

“YN, I’m…I’m really sorry…I-I—” he continued as his voice trembled and his heart beating wildly. “I didn’t know what you’ll say. I tried to save them but I was too late…the whole thing…it scares me sometimes. I don’t want it to happen ever again. That’s why I want to protect people as much as I can…”

About to say something, the sound of slow clapping stopped you from continuing. You gazed at Joshua who was looking at the whole thing with an amused expression.

“How heroic. You can’t obviously fall for that, YN, can you?” the android remarked, his arrogance obvious. “Don’t you think it’s now time to shoot?”

“You’re right,” you replied with such a cool and calm voice; as if a decision had finally dawned on you.

Hansol feared for the worst but like he said, there was nothing he could do if you decide to kill him. If that’s what makes you happy, then he understands. If that will make you more at peace, then he can forgive you. It hurts but it hurts him more if he sees you in despair.

You breathed in, and then breathed out. With eyes that seem to pierce right through Hansol’s being, you gazed at him with those clear looks as you pointed your gun at him.

“Keep still!”

You shouted at Hansol while the other tensed up. It was not a moment to falter.

In a heartbeat, you pressed both triggers. Hansol closed his eyes and braced for the impact. Even with death at his doorstep, he can proudly say that he loves you.

“You bitch!”

Hansol could hear Joshua curse from behind him, prompting him to open both of his eyes and realize what you had just done.

Shooting two laser beams at Hansol’s direction, you deliberately missed it a few centimeters off so it would instead hit Joshua, who was right behind him. The other was of course fuming mad. Before Hansol could reorient himself however, you grabbed his hand and began running.

“I’ve seen way better acting than yours, motherfucker!” You screamed with delight as you saw Joshua bending over to a partially burnt arm and leg; throwing murderous glances at you.

“What…?” Hansol asked but you only grinned at him, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s go! I don’t think I can wipe him out with just that.”

Dashing towards the exit, you were stopped by throes of androids who blocked the way. You clicked your tongue—totally forgetting that Joshua’s main ability was designed to overwhelm the opponent— and tried to find another way out.

“Ah, even that wouldn’t work, huh?” the voice behind you resounded across the empty warehouse. “I tried so hard to eliminate you, YN. If I didn’t, Hansol would never give up his weak mindset of protecting people. Too bad.”

While he was busy with his evil villain monologue, you were trying to find a way out of your situation. The entrance was blocked and you could take a gander that the whole building was surrounded as well. You had totally forgotten about his abilities, and Hansol couldn’t be of much help either since he was never made for this kind of combat. Oh for Pete’s sake!

“Oh well, so much for trying,” he sighed. “Everyone, you can dispose of them now.”

Shit.

You gazed at Hansol for an answer yet you noticed that he was only standing there with the most composed expression he could ever muster in a situation like this.

“We have to get out of here, Hansol!” you exclaimed, seizing his hand yet he didn’t budge a single inch at all.

He was just staring at one random spot in the warehouse.

“What…”

“Sorry I was late.”

A voice you have never heard before now echoed across the area. You looked up and saw someone standing by the mezzanine, leaning against the rusted railings as if they had no care in the world.

“Jihoon. You took your time,” Hansol responded, smiling.

“Why are you here?!” Joshua shouted, now even more furious at the turn of events. For some reason, you sensed that he had just lost his upper hand.

“Hansol asked for my help. So, I came,” Jihoon replied while you noticed black diamonds floating high above the air and settled in to surround the whole place. “He knew you were bound to cause some trouble, and you did.”

“If you think you’re one step ahead of us, we are two steps ahead of you,” Hansol continued. “Jihoon and my abilities are a good match after all.”

The android who was at the center of it all was silent as he trembled with sheer rage. If you could describe the tension weighing down all of you inside that warehouse, it would be like a dense core of a black hole—as if everything was compressed to the point of singularity. You were very much afraid but you knew you were not alone.

In a quiet voice, Joshua muttered. “Get them. Kill them all.”

Without even waiting for a second, the androids from outside marched in, making you take a step back. As soon as they entered however, the androids were immediately electrocuted; shaking in a frenzy before plummeting to the ground still twitching due to the remaining electrons passing through their conductors.

“Jihoon can easily stop all of those androids. That is his main ability as a tactical adviser,” Hansol explained as he caught your shoulder. “But we should go now. Joshua will probably go after us.”

In one breath, Hansol picked you up from the ground and carried you over his shoulder; sprinting out of the warehouse by kicking a hole through the roof. You didn’t want to be carried this way but you understood why. Hansol was far faster on foot than you; besides, it was easier to shoot this way.

As expected, Joshua came running after you; cursing both your names. You began to fire at him yet he was too fast and the whole ride on Hansol’s shoulder was a little too bumpy. It wasn’t as effective as you imagined it would be.

“This won’t work” you told him, trying to distract the android chasing after you. “At this rate, my laser gun would run out of batteries, and your energy would get depleted before we could ever chase him out.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Hansol asked, climbing on top of a cargo container tower.

For a moment, you were silent as you thought of how to defeat your agile enemy.

“Say, those diamond things your brother uses…they’re the ones doing the electrocuting, aren’t they?”

Hansol nodded as he dodged the iron beams being hurled at you both. “Yes, they’re made of specials alloys that conduct well with electricity and a special aluminum coating to protect it. They can be spread out as far as a hundred meters in radius.”

You grinned. “Perfect. Now, this is what we’re going to do.”

It had been quiet for a while.

Joshua clearly lost the both of you when you made use of a container full of flour to mask your escape earlier. But he wasn’t going back. He was incredibly furious and the both of you needed to pay before he could make Jihoon suffer.

He paused and looked around. Something was in the air but he didn’t know what it was.

Without warning, a laser beam appeared out of nowhere and hit him behind his shoulder; making him stumble forward and almost pushing him to the ground. Before he could even recover, another one came flying from a different direction—now to his left.

“Calculate the angle for me, Hansol,” you ordered; a massive railgun at your grasps. It was a sleek black gun that was propped up behind a cargo container.

The both of you were actually far from where Joshua was at but with the help of Jihoon’s diamond things—as you aptly described it—scattered across the sector, you were able to locate Joshua as well as shooting him from a distance in various directions.

How? Well…

“39.9 degrees up, 5 degrees to the right, yes…” Hansol replied as he watched over your shoulder.

Immediately, you found the right coordinates and fired the railgun—the sound of its energy loading up increasing the adrenaline in your veins. The laser beam hit one of the diamonds floating above you, but instead of destroying it, the magnetic field generated by the diamond bent the laser beam as it ricochets to another diamond a few distance away, sitting at a perfect angle to hit Joshua. Like a game of BBTan.

There were several diamonds sitting just above the two of you which you alternated with so that Joshua wouldn’t be able to tell where the laser beams were coming from.

“Good thing Jihoon brought Soonyoung’s railgun,” Hansol remarked as he fixed your goggles from before; adjusting it so that he can transmit signals to it.

“Soonyoung’s another brother right?” you asked as you adjusted the crossfires of the massive gun. “Is he dangerous?”

“If you’re asking if he’s dangerous to humans like Joshua, then no,” he readily replied. “As a military-grade android, then yes. He’s the true combatant-type. I don’t think any bounty hunter can deal with him.”

You whistled. “That’s scary. I’m glad he’s not the one I was assigned to hunt.”

“He’s too carefree to be able to pull off something like this though, and Jihoon has him on a leash anyway. I’m not worried.”

Chuckling, you pulled your attention off of the railgun and turned to Hansol. “Is he still moving?”

“He’s at a weakened state now. I think I’ll handle this on my own. This is something between us, after all.”

“Sometimes I envy your sense of composure,” you remarked as you sighed. “Don’t die on me.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Just as he had said, Hansol stepped out of one of the cargo containers to face a rather battered Joshua. Using his state-of-the-art processor, he assessed that Joshua was only hanging due to the immense anger he feeling and one powerful strike can finish him off in an instant.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joshua remarked his face marred with bruises and burnt marks.

“I thought maybe you’d want to give up,” Hansol replied. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than this.”

Joshua furrowed his brows as he threw daggers with his eyes at Hansol. “Save me the heroics. I’m not weak like you. I don’t need humans to help me.”

“We’re made with the same materials; the same blueprint, Joshua. You have to accept that you have an empathy organ inside of you, and rejecting it any further would lead you to deteriorate.”

“Don’t make me laugh. The empathy organ isn’t real!” He scoffed. “Jihoon made a wrong interpretation of the data he gathered.”

“I disagree,” Hansol replied. “The data I have gathered says otherwise. It was consistent to Jihoon’s findings.”

“Who would’ve guessed you got smitten by that bounty hunter! I guess I just have to convince you out of it,” Joshua grinned.

Without warning, Joshua sprinted from his position; throwing a high velocity kick towards Hansol’s direction. Hansol immediately blocked it with his arms and clutched Joshua’s ankle; smashing him down to the ground in an explosive crash.

Through the cloud of dust, Joshua hurled debris towards Hansol’s direction which he easily dodged. However, he wasn’t prepared when the other android suddenly flew at his direction; hands outstretched to grab on Hansol’s neck.

Hansol immediately countered, ducking below and grabbing the other’s neck in a chokehold before slamming Joshua back to the ground. He picked him up soon after and tossed him faraway like a curve ball. Joshua caught himself flying and saw himself crashing to the concrete floor; shards of rock and dust clouds up in the air.

“You know you’re no match for me if I use my predictive algorithms,” Hansol remarked as he looked down on Joshua who was lying on the floor. “Especially at that state.”

The other android grinned as he wiped leaked fluids from his lips. “I’m impressed. By asking Jihoon for help, the only one who could counter my AI hacking, then have your girlfriend shoot lasers to weaken me, and then finally attacking me one-on-one where you have the upper hand—your android side is showing.”

“I never denied my identity as an android. I will always be made of artificial materials. But I will not deny the fact that I have developed emotions and a consciousness of my own,” Hansol answered. “We will always be creatures of myth—a cold android swayed by their own emotions.”

Joshua spat on the floor; disgusted by his brother’s words. “I will never be like you!”

Again, he sprung from the ground and dashed towards Hansol.

The other easily countered everything his brother threw at him. As Joshua hurled an uppercut, Hansol dodged and smashed his fist at Joshua’s stomach; the other immediately curling.

“Stop this already!” Hansol pleaded; his chest tightening at how stubborn his brother could be, even to the point of near death.  

“Fuck you.”

Joshua stood up, trying to land a blow on Hansol yet he was already struggling to stand upright. Hansol dodged the attack as he pushed Joshua away, putting in more distance between them. Every time Joshua tried to strike, he only ducked, dodged or jumped above the other.

“You’re looking down on me, huh? You think you’re above everyone else just because you think you understand yourself!” Joshua shouted.

“I’m not! Why are you even doing this?” Hansol replied as he bit his lip. He can no longer bear looking at his brother who he once looked up to.

“He’s right, you know?”

Jihoon’s voice resounded across the area, floating diamonds following just behind him. “It’s time for you to stop.”

Joshua clicked his tongue, knowing full well that he can’t take on both Hansol and Jihoon at the same time. With barred teeth, he glared at both his brothers.

“We’re not done here yet.”

With those words, he jumped off the building where a hovercraft caught him and escaped away from the city skylines. Hansol and Jihoon watched as their brother left, realizing that they must take significant measures to prevent Joshua from hurting anyone ever again.

“Did you do what I told you?” Jihoon asked Hansol, who only nodded in response. “We’ll have to deal with him sooner or later.”

“He’s not going to stop, is he?” Hansol responded as Jihoon turned around and waved his hand.

“It’s going to take a lot to stop him. We might need Soonyoung after all,” he replied, and then stopped walking, averting his gaze to Hansol. “While we’re planning things, you should enjoy this down time with your girlfriend. Things might get a little heated soon.”

Somewhere inside a fully automated café, Hansol was sitting beside you as he observed the people walking to and fro outside the busy street. He had been staying with you since that night and he was more than satisfied to explore his newfound freedom with you.

“So, you quit as well, huh?” a deep voice echoed across the café filled with people dressed in weird latex suits—you three being the only people dressed normally.

“There’s…I just don’t know…Seungcheol,” you replied, looking at your cup of macchiato with a pensive expression. “Sometimes, I get nightmares.”

The other man chuckled. “That those andys you retired might be human, right? Me too.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Humans and androids all seems to identical nowadays. Especially with that new research about human-android relationships…I feel like I’m killing humans when I retire androids…”

Seungcheol mirrored your expression.

“I felt the same. I felt like that for years…and the last one I did, SVT-class Type-07 Woozi…I couldn’t do it anymore. That android was too close to a human being. It was protecting its girlfriend,” Seungcheol recounted, as you looked at a newspaper article featuring a top scientist with a blond android leading the research on humans and androids, on top of the table.

“That line…there were rumors that there was an empathy organ embedded on its androids,” you remarked, relaying a very well-known information.

“He’s part of that line, isn’t he?” Seungcheol asked with a father-like knowing grin as he sipped his coffee—his eyes staring at the direction of a distracted Hansol.

You threw a smirk at him. “I couldn’t retire him. How could I refuse if he asked me to trust him?”

Your companion chuckled. “These andys knowing what to throw at us bounty hunters. But I didn’t regret letting that android live.”

You glanced at Hansol, and as soon as he realized your gaze, he looked at you curiously. “Me too. I think I’m at peace more than I was before. I didn’t realize it, but I was being stubborn.”

“You don’t dislike them anymore?” Seungcheol asked.

“I still dislike all this baloney,” you scoffed, pointing at your surroundings filled with people in white overalls with expressions induced by chemicals. “But I don’t dislike him.”

Seungcheol raised his brows at you. “I’m surprised you accepted the existence of an empathy organ.”

“I can’t deny that I’m skeptical about it, but I also can’t deny the fact that Hansol is different compared to all the androids I’ve met before. He made me realize how much anger I was hiding inside of me. He doesn’t make me feel lonely as this city does.”

“People are living in spaces separate from each other…not caring, not loving. It’s funny, you know?” you continued when your companion didn’t reply. “Androids are becoming more human, as humans become more robotic. You’d wonder what the future holds for us.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, you’d wonder.”

[lemonjoonah]

In Need of Orders (M)

Pairings: Seokjin x Reader Word Count: 15K Rating: M Genre: Kingsman AU, action, drama, romance, smut, comedy, rivals to lovers  Warnings: violence, swearing, public foreplay, slight dom/sub dynamics which interchange (Seokjin is a bratty switch), discussion of safeword, light bondage, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, small amount of cum eating, sexism in the workplace, referenced death of minor character, Seokjin and reader are bad at feelings.

Summary: After a disastrous mission, which lead to the destruction of your prized invention and the compromise of his cover, Seokjin is confined to your base, and placed under your command. Now that he’s stuck with little to do, he uses his time to investigate a past you simply want to forget.

A/N: AU based off the Kingsman Series, originally written by Mark Miller. There’s a mix of tech origins, the com-glasses, and poison-pen, were from the movie and the rest of the inventions are my own creation. Members will occasionally be referred to by their titles but I try and use their actual name as much as possible, here’s a list of members/characters and their corresponding titles: Reader - Merlin | Seokjin - Galahad |  Yoongi - Percival | Hoseok - Lancelot | Namjoon - (current) Arthur |

....

“No, no, no. NO! Seokjin, what did you do to my beautiful baby?!” You circle around what was once your wondrous invention. Your masterpiece of a vehicle that had taken years to get just right. When Yoongi dropped in a couple hours ago and told you to expect an unpleasant delivery you never could have imagined this. Unpleasant doesn’t begin to cover the damage done, this is an act of desecration. 

“Merlin, titles please! Without manners we are nothing,” Seokjin chides you, paraphrasing the principal motto as if it will save him from your wrath. You’ve reached your limit with him; there's no benefit you can see in maintaining pleasantries. 

“You will get my manners when you deserve them,” you growl back. “Now why did you sink my prized creation?”

“The cloaking device was faulty.” He shrugs off the loss like it’s nothing, no harm to him and therefore no foul.

“I find that hard to believe.” You’ve run this car through every test, checked every parameter, you would never have let it leave this workshop if it posed a danger to exposing agents.

“It was! I was conducting surveillance on a target when they became aware of my presence. They retaliated, so I needed a quick escape. I was on the overpass near the river, I knew there was a small oxygen tank in the glove compartment for emergencies-”

“So driving it off a bridge seemed like the best option?” You never thought you’d regret seeing the day you installed that safety feature, one that you intended for use in case of a gas or chemical assault, but here it is. “Tell me,” You look from your precious machine back to the monster who destroyed it, “What exactly were you doing when you noticed the glitch?”

“Just driving, maybe going around eighty. Does it really matter?” He sighs. “They saw me coming so I had to take cover or they would have shot me.” 

“Oh no, it works perfectly fine.” Your voice starts to echo through the workshop as your fury bubbles over. “When the user reads the manual and understands that cloaking only works when in a stationary position. I am a scientist not an actual fucking magician Seokjin! Of course you can’t travel when cloaked. If you had at least skimmed the booklet I gave you, you would have understood that!”

The technology you created doesn’t make the car invisible, instead it projects the images behind it to make it appear that way. It can only account for and cover small changes in movement, not whole vehicles travelling. Only an idiot would think that it could compensate for such drastic shifts to the backdrop. And for some reason that moron dares to continue arguing with you.  

“Booklet? That thing was a thousand pages long! You actually expected me to read that?” He counters his voice rising to combat yours.

“Oh, I’m sorry would you like me to make an audio-book for you next time? Or better yet I could make a grade school reader complete with pictures. Maybe that’ll hold your attention!”

There’s a sudden shift in his expression, with a thick smile forming on his face. “I suppose I wouldn't say no to a recording if it was read by you.” His words ooze with flirtatious mire, intent on sucking you in. 

Seokjin’s smirks and one liners have gotten him out of trouble many times with other agents. It’s not hard to see why, the man could be considered the most attractive of all your acquaintances,  but you refuse to let this drop simply because he’s batting his eyes in your direction. You grit your teeth and continue to chew him out. “Lancelot and Percival read it, I don’t see why I can’t hold you to the same standard.” 

“Fine, fine I’ll look it over.” He huffs in surrender, but even in defeat he still carries a playfulness in his tone. “When do you think you can get it back up and running again?”

“If you think I’m going to take time out of my schedule to fix this, only for you to go destroy it again, you have some nerve.” You can barely even register the destruction let alone process how much time it’ll take to repair everything. With the dents in the body work, the flooded engine, and the electrics most certainly fried, you're looking at weeks of work just to make it drivable again. But bringing it back to its full potential? That will require months of tinkering.

“What could you possibly have to do that’s more important than this.” Seokjin is clearly trying to hold back a snicker, but when a small snort escapes him, all remaining control of your temper vanishes.

“Seokjin, so help me god if you don’t leave my line of sight in three seconds, I’ll do those men a favour and shoot you myself.”

He chuckles at your threat, “You’re not-”  

“One.” You reach for your holster and take hold of your gun.

“Serious.” The laughter in his face starts to fade. 

“Two.” You disengage the safety and take aim.

“You won’t actually shoot me.”

“Th-” 

“At ease Merlin.” Yoongi interjects, entering the room with his face buried in a file. His indifference is a true sign of how well he knows you. You were only going to relieve Seokjin of a few strands of hair, but maybe it’s better this way. The sound of gunfire would surely result in a slight loss of hearing, and Seokjin already has trouble listening. You sigh, lowering your pistol. 

“I can only guess you’ve both been discussing the...” Yoongi comments looking down at the remains of the car. “Accident.” 

“More like negligence,” You mutter, flicking a bit of mud off what was once a perfect paint job.

“Listen, I tried Percival,” Seokjin appeals to Yoongi. “We’ve been looking for this guy for months. I had him in my grasp,  I couldn’t risk losing him.”

“I know Galahad,” Yoongi rubs his brow as his gaze returns to the document in front of him “but there’s concern that you’ve been compromised, after reading your report there are worries that you might be identified and expose the operation. You’re on lock down for the remainder of the mission.”

“No! I’m so close to bringing him in. Just let me assist,” Seokjin pleads. You would probably feel bad for him if he hadn’t just gone and destroyed your life's work.

“The rest of the order doesn’t seem to agree. In fact they’ve called your work on this case,” Yoongi flips to another page of the file, “Reckless, irresponsible, and fails to even remotely represent their request for a covert operation...” He turns the file around to push it in Seokjin’s face. “And they’ve written those last two words in all caps, see?” 

You chuckle quietly, covering it with a cough but Yoongi doesn’t look convinced. His gaze shifts to you as he hands down the rest of the directive. “Due to these recent events, Galahad is to remain here for the duration of the operation. Under your orders.”

“Wait, what?! Why are they punishing me too?”

“It’s not meant to be a punishment Merlin.”

“The fuck it isn’t. Why can’t Lancelot look after him? It was his idea to allow him on the mission.” You admire Hoseok greatly, but in your opinion it was a bad decision to add Seokjin to the roster for this operation. 

“If Lancelot or I are seen with him then our cover will be blown too.” Yoongi reasons, “You’re the only one who operates completely behind the scenes.”

“But why do I have to be put under command of another agent?” Seokjin interjects.

“Because, you are clearly in need of orders until you can get your rash instincts under control. Just be grateful it’s not a complete dismissal.” Yoongi starts to step away with the matter settled.

There goes your peace and quiet. Unless... you call out to Yoongi with one last shred of hope. “Permission to put him under a gag order for every possible topic of conversation?”

“Denied, but nice try Merlin.” Yoongi smirks as he enters the elevator which will bring him back above ground.

Yep, you’re truly going to be living your own personal hell in such tight quarters. A small work den and communications relay located beneath a PC bang in the heart of Seoul. The base was never intended to host more than one for a long term stay. It’s purpose is for agents to stock up, gather their orders sent from headquarters, and then leave. The only person who actually stays on site is you. “Well then, the bedroom’s mine but you can take the sofa. Don’t touch what’s mine without my consent and we shouldn’t have a problem. Is that clear?” You lay down the rules quickly not wanting to prolong any further conversation with your new resident.

“Yes Ma’am.” Seokjin answers looking truly defeated for once.    

“If you’ll excuse me I have work to do.”You brush past him towards your computer, needing to assess what components you’ll need to order first for repairs.

“Wait, what am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can figure something out.” You respond keeping your eyes focused on the screen.

“Could you show me how to fix it?” His unusually quiet request manages to break your concentration.

“Fix what, the car?” You glance back at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out his angle. “Why would I do that?”

“Well for starters I probably can’t fuck it up any more than it is.” He laughs but your lack of reaction kills his joke rather quickly. “It would cut down your workload. Give me a better appreciation for what you do. You would get to order me around. And who knows, you might even enjoy my company.”

He’s right, you could use the extra pair of hands, and he might learn something. “Fine, you can start by reading this.” You fling the tome of a manual at his chest, causing him to grunt from the impact. “Report to me when you're done.”  

...

“How can you even call that a couch? I’ve seen footrests bigger than that disappointment.” Seokjin comments as he enters the workshop. You slide out from under your car to find his hands tending to the muscles at the back of his neck, and heavy bags resting under his eyes. It's the first time you’ve seen him exist at a fraction less than perfection in his appearance, a gratifying perk in this unfavourable situation.  

“It’s all that would fit.” You grab a towel laying on the floor next to you cleaning the dark grease of the car off your skin. Usually you wouldn’t bother wiping it off just yet, but having Seokjin in your presence has made you oddly self-conscious. “You might have noticed space is limited here.”

“Then who’s idiotic idea was is to make a base in this shoe box of a hole?” He grills you, probably intending to roast the architect of such a small site. 

“Mine actually. After the data breach a year and a half ago we needed something more secure. There’s so much information streaming to and from this location that it makes it difficult for anyone to find our dealings. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Perfect if you’re a mouse.” Seokjin takes a seat in your straight-backed desk chair. Groaning as his fingers continue to knead, moving down to his wide shoulders.

“Are you implying I’m some kind of rodent?” You glare up at him, ready to defend yourself against the slight.

“You should take it as a complement, mice are cute.” He gives you one of his famed smiles, the type where you can’t tell if he’s sincere or mocking.

“Why are you down here Seokjin?” You ask preparing to wheel back down beneath the undercarriage of your car. “I can’t imagine you’ve finished reading the manual already.”

“I did actually. This is me reporting for duty.” He throws the book down on to the floor next to you, marked and dog-eared. “Not a whole lot else I can do while on lock down.” 

“Is someone upset that Lancelot and Percival get to have all the fun? Maybe it’ll teach you to obey orders better, rather than getting stuck here with me.”

“I can follow them just fine... when they don’t conflict with the completion of my mission.”

“Not getting spotted was part of your mission Seokjin.” Your response is dry as you state the obvious.

“Yes, but so is recovering the data from that breach, before he can unload it on someone else.”

“You don’t know that he has it. That’s why you had to observe him.”

“Listen to me, Hwang’s a fence, one whose been trying his best to stay off our grid, of course he has it. Once we find him we can track everything back to his source.” Seokjin’s confidence is admirable. You can’t deny that you would like to catch the one responsible for unleashing one hell of a computer virus that caused you and many others weeks of havoc and restless nights. The worst part is you don’t even know what they were able to get a hold of, the sooner Yoongi and Hoseok can track this man down the better.

“You still should have exerted more caution, you're not the only one on this team Seokjin, people can get hurt if you're too brash.” You’re surprised to find Seokjin nodding with his head hung low. Since when does he ever agree with you on something?  “Now that you’re done with the manual, I do have work to assign that I doubt even you can mess up. Every single electrical circuit and wire needs to be removed, it’s unlikely that any have survived the flooding so it would be safer just to take them all out. I’m going to see if I can save the engine.”

Seokjin gives you a cheeky two finger salute before he sets to work behind the dash.

Thirty minutes later he’s already back at it with questions. “Do you have any speakers set up for music?”

“No, we could have used the car radio if you hadn’t submerged it, but here we are.” You usually work in silence anyway, but getting to deliver another stab of guilt is better than admitting your regular tendencies. 

“Ah no problem, I can fix that.” At first you wonder if he intends to repair the radio, but when he proceeds to hum loudly, you realize that’s not the case. Instead he treats you to a selection of unrecognizable songs which you don’t bother to ask the title of.

You let it go for as long as you can, but thirty minutes later when you move from under the car to beneath the hood needing to drain the cylinders next, you finally raise the white flag in pursuit of silence. “Seokjin, please just stop okay?”

His chuckle taunts you, “That’s what you get for pulling a gun on me yesterday.”

“If you’re not careful I’ll do it again.” Your tone turns salty once you realize that is was his intent to torture your ears.

“Can’t believe you lasted that long, I thought for sure you were going to crack after five minutes of my melodies.”

“That’s what that was? I thought you jammed your thumb and were screaming out in pain the whole time.”

“Ha ha,” He retorts. You're almost upset when he goes quiet with nothing substantial to follow up your jab, but then he opens his mouth again. “How can you work when it’s so quiet?”

“Helps me focus when there’s no distractions.” You answer hoping that he’ll take the hint and remain silent.

“But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You slow your pace as you loosen the bolts on the gasket cover, choosing your words carefully as you make an attempt to side step that minefield of a query. “I work better when I’m by myself.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Seokjin catches on to your evasion proceeding to look around the hood of the car trying to meet your eyes.

“We all make sacrifices Seokjin. This is mine.”

“If you spoke to Arthur-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to cut him off quickly not wanting to get him involved in your circumstances, but he continues.

“I’m sure he would listen.”

“Drop the subject Seokjin, that’s an order.” You take a deep breath trying not to lose more of your composure again. “I chose to work in this place for several reasons. I don’t need to explain every one of them to you.”

Seokjin is surprisingly quiet for the rest of the day. It’s doubtful that you scared him off with your temper, he’s too confident for that. It’s more likely that he’s frustrated with you’re bickering. You hang back a bit more only giving direction when absolutely necessary. If you have to live with him you might as well attempt to make it bearable for the both of you.

That night you treat him to ramen from the business upstairs, they don’t usually do take-out but they make an exception for you. He sits across from you in a desk chair slurping his noodles while his eyes bore into you. “What, do I have something on my face?” You ask, starting to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

Seokjin takes another slurp of his dish before he explains himself. “No, I’m just trying to figure you out.” 

“Please don’t.” You plead, not wanting to broach the same subject from earlier.

“You’re passionate about your work. You’re good at what you do. Your superiors trust you.” You groan with exasperation, nevertheless he persists. “You're lonely here. The order could put you anywhere and you would most likely excel, and yet you bury yourself here, in this hovel.”

“It’s not a hovel...” You mutter, but you’ve run out of energy to argue and your appetite has now vanished. Rising from your seat you bid him good night. “I’m going to bed. Clean up this mess when you're done, and try not to throw your neck out cramming yourself onto my couch again.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” He gives a muffled reply with noodles hanging from his mouth, and another fake salute.

You shake your head as you close your bedroom door behind you.

...

 “You know,” Seokjin bursts into your room early the next morning, startling you awake. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen test scores as high as these. Are you sure you’re not a magician Merlin, because these results seem too good to be true. ” 

You bolt upright in terror, “What are you looking at?”

“The start of your journey with the Kingsman.” He wanders around to sit at the foot of your bed as you drag the covers up to your chest. “I figured if there was an answer I would find it here, but I’ve never seen such an impressive resume. The last Arthur had you pegged from the beginning as the successor to your predecessor, he even recorded that his candidate didn’t stand a chance against you. You should be proud of this...” He leans to you reading the expressions on your face. “But you’re not. You’re scared. Why is that?”

“Stay out of my files Kim Seokjin.”

“Is that an order?” He asks his face still only a couple inches from yours when it pulls into smirk, looking pleased that he’s caught you off guard.

“Yes.”

“If I recall,” He closes the document in his hands, but his analysis continues, “You were moved here just shortly after Namjoon took over the position of Arthur. You were living the life before, testing and training new recruits, doling out orders and information. But then you fell into this pit. What did you do to piss him off?” 

    “Nothing, ju-just stop asking, okay? I don’t need your help, so stop trying to save me!” Your voice cracks as it reaches the point of yelling but he doesn’t back away. “Staying here alone, that was my choice. So don’t you dare try to take my one salvation away from me.” 

“I’m not trying to take it away. I just want to understand it.” He answers his tone controlled and calm while holding your gaze firmly in his. When you look away he finally gets up leaving you with your files on your dresser. 

...

A week passes and Seokjin continues to try and figure out why you chose to work in your closed off environment. Throwing out random and bizarre questions on what you might have done to Namjoon to get yourself stationed here.

“Did you expose his guilty pleasure for stuffed animals?” He asks as he helps you unbolt and remove seats, making room for the new chairs and bench which just arrived. 

“Does he have a guilty pleasure for such a thing?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.” Seokjin states with a snicker.

“No.” 

“Did you lose his glasses?’’ Seokjin inquires next as he pulls the seat from the driver side all on his own. You can’t help but notice the muscles straining through the back of his shirt as he lifts the heavy chair from its place. When he turns back around for the next you berate your pitiful self-control. Yes he’s attractive, but he’s also the current thorn in your side. God must be a sadist for creating this enticing man, with such a sharp tongue and a plaguing desire to mock you. 

“He does that just fine himself, he doesn’t need me to do it for him.” In fact, you have two pairs on backup for Namjoon at all times, just in case such a need should arise. 

“Did you sneak into his house and switch the sugar to salt in his tea set?”

“That’s just cruel,” You chuckle at the idea, making a mental note to check your own sugar before your next cup of coffee. “But no I didn’t.” 

“Well that’s it then, I’m out of ideas for today.” He heaves the passenger chair next to the other with an exhausted breath. A bead of sweat drips down his brow as he collapses on the new back bench waiting to be installed. 

“Really? I’m surprised. You haven’t asked the obvious question.” You lay the statement as bait hoping he’ll take hold so you can reel him in. To your delight, he does. 

“Oh and what’s that?” His eyes light up, with the chance that you might actually tell him something informative.

“Did I destroy his favourite vehicle? I mean, that’s why you’re stuck here isn’t it?” Seokjin glares at you in frustration, his gloom making you giggle. “But the answer to that too is no, I didn’t. I’m not a scoundrel.”

“Is that what I am to you now,” He presents a gleeful smile with a raised brow. “A scoundrel?”

“Why do you look so proud about that?” Your question is full of judgement, but his delight is not swayed.

“Because, scoundrels are sexy.” He tilts his head and bites his lip with a nod as if to make a point.

You let out an obnoxious laugh. “Maybe to some. I fail to see the appeal.”

“Then what do you consider sexy?”

“Someone who’s attentive, and dutiful. You know, an adult.” You attempt to describe the very traits he appears to lack to make your point. Though Seokjin’s looks might draw you in, you are in need of something more.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s not always about the fun, I just like someone who I can depend on.” 

Seokjin’s about to respond, his mouth open with a solemn stare in his eyes when the elevator chimes. It’s doors open for you to find a haggard Hoseok with two black empty bags. You greet him with surprise, having completely lost track of time, he had mentioned that he would be stopping by to pick up supplies. 

You hurry away to unlock and ready the stock. While Seokjin rushes in, barely even letting Hoseok off the lift, launching into an interrogation about the mission and any progress they’ve made. There’s only a few short words exchanged before the man left in your charge storms away slamming the door behind him as he exits the workshop to your common room.

“Lancelot?” You call out to Hoseok with hesitation, noticing that he’s still standing in place where Seokjin left him. Stepping in you help to take and load one of his duffles with surveillance equipment he requested. After Seokjin’s barrage he looks like he might rupture if you’re not careful.  

“Please no formalities,” He sighs in exhaustion, while he too starts to pack up what he needs. “I would prefer not to be an agent right now, even if it’s just for five minutes.”

“That bad?” You wince for Hoseok’s sake, he’s usually so optimistic, it’s worrisome to see him so beaten down.  

“We know Hwang’s back in Seoul, but any time we get a whiff of a more detailed location he vanishes. Yoongi and I have brought in more agents. We’re stationed in the south end of the city now, trying to keep an ear to the ground.” He zips up his case and then turns the conversation to you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine I guess, but Seokjin’s been looking into my assignment here. He keeps trying to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Hoseok is one of only a few who know why you chose such an assignment, and you would like to keep it that way.

“Maybe you should give it a smack then. Or better yet put him on a leash.” Hoseok finally breaks into a smile as he pats you on the back. 

“He’s not a dog Hoseok.”

“Really?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as if it’s news to him. “Cause he looks at you with those puppy eyes all the time. I’m surprised you don’t see it.” 

 “I don’t need someone who doesn’t listen to me Hoseok.”

“Okay yes, that accident with the car was a major misstep on his part...”

“And the constant prodding into my past?” You groan, you were hoping Hoseok would have your back immediately. Why does he have to take the role of impartial referee when you need his bias the most?

“He probably thinks you’ve been wronged, and that you deserve better. Is it not natural to what's best for those we care about?”

You tilt your head starting to question your fellow agent’s sanity. “I doubt that’s the case Hoseok, he just likes to be nosey.”

“Fine, have it your way, live in denial. I’m sure he’ll be out of your hair soon anyway. But if I were you I would try and explain the situation. He might not be living here but you’ll still have to work closely with him in the future.” 

“You’re saying I should tell him?” You challenge his suggestion, he must be overworked since he’s definitely not thinking clearly. 

“I know it won’t be easy, but if he knows what’s really bothering you, he might try to be more tolerable.” He lugs the cases off the table crossing the straps over his chest.

“Either that or he’ll use it as ammo to really gun me down.” You curl your lip at the thought pacing behind Hoseok as he moves towards the elevator to head back above ground. 

Before the door closes between you he holds it open to give you the support you wanted along with a sigh. “I really don’t think that’ll be the case. But if he does... I’ll be your witness when you tell Arthur you shot him in self-defence.”

“Deal.” 

...

You find Seokjin on the couch with a pile of files and a coffee on the small table, his brow furrowed and his mouth pulled tight as he scans through each one at a rapid pace. 

“I take it you weren’t happy with his update?” You call out as you enter the room advancing towards him.

“No, I wasn’t. They had to pull in lower level field agents because I can’t be out there to help them. We probably would have caught Hwang by now if I was still working on the case.”

“Seokjin, I have every camera in the city looking for him, there’s not much else we can do from here. And your not going out there to track-”

“I know I’m not Merlin. I just want this to be over so I can get my shot at redemption.”

You nod looking down at the files in front of him.“What are those?” 

He lets out a panicked laugh as he tries to scrounge them together. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Seokjin.” You draw out his name with intent to reprimand, leading him to respond with a nervous grin. He shifts his hands away giving you a better view of what he’s up to. 

“Since you said I couldn’t look through your files I thought I would take a general overview of those you’ve trained or worked with.”

You shake your head, tired of this never ending battle between the two of you. “You’re not going to stop are you?”

“Nope.” He takes a sip from his mug as he looks back down to the information he’s gathered. You scan through the names and pull out the file that haunts you to this day. Dropping it in front of Seokjin before taking a seat in the armchair across from him. He reads the name off the tab. “James Paxton the third, he sounds like a pompous prick.”

“Oh I can confirm he was, and definitely one of the most hard-headed recruits I’ve ever tested, but we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” You mutter as Seokjin opens his file to find the word deceased stamped in bold red letters. He stares up at you with his mouth agape, you can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out how this fits into your narrative. 

“Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“It wasn’t really broadcasted through the regular channels, if you weren’t at the main headquarters you didn’t know about it. It happened just over a year ago.”

“I would have been in Lhasa...” Seokjin mutters.

You nod, not surprised that information flew under his radar. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but the last Arthur, he saw me as a bar for people to cross. He thought if recruits could take orders from a ‘bossy woman’ they could take orders from anyone. James Paxton didn’t pass that test, and he paid for it with his life.”

Thankfully for once, Seokjin doesn’t have a comment, instead he sits there, waiting for you to continue.

“Paxton thought me pushy, and overbearing, told me so to my face, several times in fact. I should have had him kicked out, but I was determined to prove him wrong. There was a mission to recover the stolen data a couple months after the breach. There was a lead, before we learned of Hwang.  We thought we had the location of where the data had been transferred to. I was supposed to go on the mission, but at the last minute Arthur told me to direct the team from off site.” 

Your hands start to shake as the story continues. A mixture of both anger and fear coursing through you. You shift to hide them beneath you, gripping your legs to keep your fingers steady, but they fail to escape Seokjin��s notice.

His eyes are downcast in shame. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to Merlin. I’m-”

“You wanted to hear this Seokjin. I told you to leave it alone, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” You take a deep breath trying to rein in your anger, “Either you let me finish or never question me about my situation again.” He shuts his mouth instantly letting you continue. “It didn’t take me long to realize the lead was a trap once they got on site. I ordered a retreat, everyone else followed except for Paxton”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Seokjin interjects sitting on the edge of his seat. 

“That doesn't mean I can’t be upset by it! Instead of trying to curb the discrimination the previous Arthur used it, and I didn’t even understand what he was doing until I lost someone. I found out that he enforced the idea among the recruits, that I was an overly authoritative woman, one who fails to take proper risks. Forget the fact that I am highly qualified, that I have more experience and knowledge of many of the situations than the other leaders, my lack of dick disqualified me from being taken seriously.” Seokjin falls silent again. He must realize that he too has failed to take you seriously in the past, then again, he’s that way with everyone else too. 

“When Namjoon became the new Arthur shortly after, I was able to address my grievances. He was ashamed of his predecessor and wanted to do right by me, so I requested this place as a base. I wanted somewhere I could work on my own for the most part and not have to worry about people thinking me conceited or bossy. I needed a break from giving out orders.”

You finally finish to find Seokjin with a narrowed brow and clenched jaw. His tone matching the anger in his stance, “You’ve been here a year-”

“I know.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been punishing yourself for a year?” He’s question is poised with what looks to be genuine frustration, “Over two assholes who couldn’t understand how valuable you are?”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a safety net.” You explain.

“It’s a cell!” He gestures around him. “You’re basically living in solitary.” You shift awkwardly not knowing what to say, and definitely not expecting this reaction. “Come on, we’re going out.” He orders, getting up from his seat and pulling you out of yours. “There’s a bar I know close by. I’m taking you out for a drink.”

“You think it wise for you to leave?” You question him, not knowing how else to diffuse the situation, not when your focus is drawn to his grip which wraps your shoulders. 

“It’s only a couple blocks away. If we see anything suspicious I promise we’ll head straight back. It’s your call, but I think you could use a night out.” He pushes you in the direction of your bedroom. “Go change into something that doesn’t have oil stains all over it.” 

You should probably put your foot down, there’s no saying what could happen. But seeing Seokjin act like this... maybe Hoseok was right, he actually cares. The problem is now that you can see this side of him you don’t want to lose hold of it just yet. “Fine, but if anything at all is amiss-”

“We’ll hightail it out of there, and barricade ourselves in here for the long haul.” He rattles off the promises. “Now go get ready.” 

...

Seokjin maintains the persona of a caring companion as he drags you to his favourite bar in the city. “It’s quiet and the owner, Choi, is an old friend of Percival’s, he knows not to ask too many questions. There’s almost always at least one or two of us from the order or field agents hanging out there.”

He holds the door open for you to enter and you're greeted to the sight of a worn down ale house. A robust and stained wooden bar takes the focal point of the room, and there’s not a single other patron in sight. You can’t help but regret being forced to change out of your usual attire. You didn’t want to look out of place, but with no one here to take notice, your black dress it’s an unnecessary and uncomfortable gambit. Seokjin on the other hand looks very pleased to be back in his usual attire, a  three piece suit that’s been confined to the closet while he’s with you in the workshop.   

“Like I said, it’s quiet.” He chuckles while he helps you take off your coat.

From out back steps the barman to greet you. He’s an unexpected yet welcome gem of a sight among the rubble, a handsome face with a wide smile which he presents to you. You might have to stop by here again just to take in this view, maybe study some of the tattoos he has scattered across his arms. 

“Choi not in tonight?” Seokjin asks after seeing your reaction to the man behind the counter. He must not be the usual staff, it’s a shame really, but it’s funny to see Seokjin look so displeased. Realizing that for once he might not be the most attractive person in the room.

“Oh you know him?” Your host inquires with surprise, “No he wasn’t feeling too good, probably will end up spending the night by a toilet from the looks of him. I offered to take over tonight so he could get some rest.”

“That was nice of you.” You extend the man a warm smile.

“I like to think so.” He responds while beaming back at you. Seokjin hastily gives both your orders, allowing the bartender to leave you with a lingering stare as he walks back to grab your drinks. Maybe your efforts with the dress weren’t such a waste.

Seokjin glares at the man, mumbling a few choice words from which you manage to pull the word, ‘Flirt’. 

“He was just being nice.”

“My god you can’t read people when it comes to the way they look at you. You’ve clearly caught his attention...” Seokjin drops unexpectedly.

“I can read people just fine.” You bite back in confidence. 

“Really?” He challenges you, leaning forward with a whisper, “Then I suggest you look a bit closer.”

   The bartender hammers Seokjin’s drink down in front of him while he slides yours along gently, giving you a chance to inspect a stunning work of art on his hand, a flock of birds flying in formation following the trail between his thumb and index. He catches your stare and while you might be embarrassed at your lingering eyes he teases the skin of his lip between his teeth. “I’ll let you get back to your date.” He gives you one last flash of a grin as he backs away into what must be a stock room.

“It’s not a... date.” You start to explain but it’s reduced to a sigh once the man leaves your sight.

Seokjin presses a napkin to your mouth prompting you to look back at him in utter confusion. “Sorry, thought I spotted some drool,” He dabs the corner of your lips. “Just there.”

You steal the napkin from his hand and toss it on the bar. “Thank you for your concern.” You take a long draft of your drink refusing to look at your fellow agent. 

“Someone must be thirsty.” He snickers, not bothering to keep his laughter hidden.

“What can I say, the refreshments at the base have been far from gratifying.” Your quip might be implied but it hits its mark with flawless execution.

“Hey!” The volume of Seokjin’s voice rises to a new level to aid in his defence. “I’ll have you know I’ve been called an acquired taste.” 

“You’ll have to forgive my pallet for not meeting your standards then. I’m in need of something that goes down a bit easier.”

You take your victory in the form of Seokjin’s reddening ears and sputter from his lips. “After that confession, I’m almost sorry to be standing between you and that tall drink. Almost.” He reiterates with a wink.

“It’s probably for the best.” You sigh, finally dropping the banter. “He might be interested now, but I bet that would change pretty quickly if he got to know me.” 

“I doubt that.” He whispers right before he takes a sip. You can’t be entirely sure that he intended you to hear his comment.

“Oh really? You’ve spent the past week in very close proximity with me. How would you describe me?”

“There’s definitely a mix of frustration, with a side agitation, and a need for provocation. ” You let out a heavy groan while he continues. “Now some might find those to be unlikable traits, but I’ve come to find them very endearing.”  

You snort into your drink. “That’s the best joke you’ve told yet.”

Seokjin nods carrying the weight of a small smile on his lips. “What about me? I’d be curious to hear how you read my personality.”

“Are you sure about that?’

He nods, “Hit me with your best shot... if you can.”

He might think you unable to read people, but you can’t wait to prove him wrong. Your words spill faster than you intend, creating an improvisational soliloquy into his psyche.“You deflect with humor constantly, which in turn prevents anyone from getting close because they can tell what you truly feel about them. Can’t take an order without asking a question. You’re determined to a fault, but you also use that drive when you’re concerned that something’s wrong. Not letting anything rest until you’ve fixed what can be fixed.”

He holds your gaze, sitting there in silent disbelief before he comes to and lashes out, “Completely incorrect, it’s a wonder you became an agent.” He shakes his head with a scoff before finishing his drink in one sip.

“Nice deflection,” you counter. “I rest my case.”

He narrows his eyes and gives no response other than to call for another round. 

...

After finishing the second you’re about to suggest your return to the base, but the frown on Seokjin’s face as he looks into the bottom of his glass stops you. It should be an unwritten rule that men who look as good as him aren’t allowed to pout. How are you supposed to remain in charge when he can disarm you in seconds with a simple jut of his lip? It’s the one tool in his arsenal he has yet to use, you can only hope he doesn’t realize how effective it is on you.

You’re quick to order the next batch, and half way through the third he poses a question that he must have been holding on to. “You said in your analysis that people have trouble reading me because of my humour, how do I act when I really like someone?”

“How would I know?” You raise your brow along with your drink. 

“Then how do you think I should act? You know, so it’s not misconstrued as humour.”

“Level with the person, have a serious conversation for a fraction of a second.” It feels odd to be giving him your input on such a matter. Why would he ask this of you? And why do you mentally recoil when you start to think of him using that advice on someone else?

“If that's the case, I should probably tell you...” He leans in towards you, his face just inches away. Your heart stops as his hand reaches out to cover yours. He pauses there for a moment watching your expression, “I need to,” The gaps in his speech are big enough for your mind to flee from reality, creating a scenario where he admits... “I need to go use the facilities.” A half-hearted chuckle pours of him along with the words which break you from your daydream. 

“Then go,” You snap, your tone surprising even to you. It’s not like you wanted to have a serious moment with him, right? But the pain in your chest says otherwise.

“Are you... I was just kidding around,” he stammers.

What did you expect him to say, that he thinks of you as more than just an agent, even more than a friend? Did you want him to close the gap and kiss you? Oh god, you did. You like him. You like Kim Seokjin, and right then and there you wanted him to confess the same to you.

“Yeah I got it,” you mutter back, trying to cover your internal shock. “That’s all you ever do.”

 Seokjin gets up from his seat and heads to the washroom. Leaving you at the bar to contemplate his words. 

You feel like you’ve fallen into every trap you told yourself not to. But that can’t be right, it’s not like you fell for his fake smiles or flirtation. You must be drunk, that’s the only explanation. How else could you ever think that he might actually hold even a shred of feelings for you. He feels sorry for you, that’s all, that’s why you're here with him now. And once he’s treated your wounds, once he no longer feels guilty, he can go back to flirting with you and everyone else to get whatever he wants. 

The bell over the door chimes as a large group of people enter. You immediately look away, embarrassed by your current distress, turning your head to focus instead on the photos of the owner and his patrons pinned to the walls. Dabbing the corner of your eyes with the tip of your finger. 

Despite the number of newcomers the bar still remains oddly quiet. From a group of six you would expect the volume of conversation to be a bit more boisterous. With your instincts and suspicions now aroused, you keep an eye on them in the mirror over the bar.  Darting your eyes back to their reflection every few seconds, never wanting to linger too long. You’re about to throw away your apprehension, blaming it on your current level of anxiety on Seokjin, when something inexplicable happens. 

As the man seated in the middle leans towards one of his companions for a chat, his hand rises to rub his long nose, and in what you can only describe as a rendering problem, it passes through. You try to remain calm grabbing your glasses from your purse, turning yourself slightly you manage to edge his face in the very corner of your frames. With the tap of your finger to the rim of the specs you launch an application you created but never had the need to use personally.

When you had first designed your car, Yoongi had complained that even with the locater he had difficulty finding the vehicle when he left it cloaked. It was a reasonable request that prompted you to create a function that scans for visual distortions and creates a digital replication of what lies beneath the camouflage. And now as you activate that function you find what Seokjin and the others hadn’t been able to track down for months, the face of Hwang. 

He must be wearing what you can only guess is a variation on your technology, but instead of making his face invisible it projects different facial features over some of his own. It takes all of your restraint not to let out the swear taking up residence on the tip of your tongue. Why are they here of all places? Do they know that Seokjin is here? They look as if they’re waiting for someone. A potential mark, a seller, or maybe a buyer? 

Regardless of motive if your colleague steps out of the bathroom he’ll walk right into their view. You pull your glasses off leaving them on the bar, and call out to the keep. “Would you mind watching my stuff for me?” You gesture to your coat and specs putting on a fake smile. “Don’t want to lose my seat.”

“Don’t worry.” He confirms with a soft tone along with a grin. “I’ll keep them safe.”

Gliding off the stool, avoiding the stares of the target and his men, you slip into the hall and behind the men’s room door. Thankfully Seokjin’s already at the sink by this point. You find him hunched over hands pressing down on the counter as he lets out a long sigh.   

As he combs back his hair with damp fingers he looks up. Meeting your eyes in the mirror with embarrassment and disbelief, he lets out a small self pitting laugh. “Listen if you’re here to tell me off I get it, I didn’t mean-”

“Put your glasses on. You have them right?” You join him at the sink while his pity turns to confusion.

“What-”

“Just do it.”

He fumbles to retrieve them from his jacket pocket before sliding them on. You move in as close as you can, bracing yourself on his arms so you can speak into the receiver embedded. Seokjin looks taken aback but remains still as you encroach on his space. “Call Merlin, auto-connect override authorization 2769.” That creates a connection between the two glasses without you having to be there to answer it, allowing Seokjin to see the issue at hand.

“Fuck.” He whispers right next to your ear as you remain close, getting ready to call in for backup.

“My thoughts exactly.” You mutter, unable to decide if this is a stroke of good luck or bad.  “Add secondary line, call Lancelot.”

Seokjin leans his head down so the speaker falls next to your own ear. It’s not the best connection with the audio from the bar, but at least you can hear Hoseok. “Merlin, Galahad. What- am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, Hwang’s at our location, Choi’s bar. We’re not sure of his purpose here, but he’s brought a few friends.”

“I can see that, but why are you both there?”

“Not the time. We’re in the restroom but not in an adequate state to take on so many and secure the target. How long will it take you to get here?” You try to gloss over your lack of sobriety, but Hoseok doesn’t fall for the guise of your paraphrasing.

“Not in an adequate state huh? That’s an expression for drunk I haven’t heard before. Sending a message to Percival, I can have him and the team on site in 10 minutes. Can you maintain your current position?”

“Yeah small problem with that...” Seokjin comments.

“I heard it too, maintain cover at all cost. We can’t scare them away.” Hoseok’s voice flutters, sounding almost nervous.

“Heard what?” You can barely make out Hoseok’s words, let alone the taproom.

“Someone’s coming to check the bathrooms. They’re looking for any people of interest.”

“We could try slipping out the back door,” You offer.

Only for Hoseok to throw a wrench in your suggestion. “If it’s a business dealing they might have people posted there.”

“We need a distraction then?” You ask and Seokjin returns with a nod. Just hiding in a stall won’t do either, they’ll likely wait for the occupants to come out. You have to make them uncomfortable enough to leave without looking too close. You’ll probably regret what you're about to do later, but right now your options are limited. 

You reach out and grip Seokjin’s shirt, drawing him into you so he has you pressed against the counter. He catches on quickly, putting his hands on your waist he lifts you up and onto the marble surface. “Make it look good Seokjin. Shouldn’t be hard for you to put on a show, you’ve had so much practice with me already.” His act of concern, and portrayal of affection have shown you he should do just fine when it comes to a performance of lust. 

“It wasn’t my intent to toy with you.” He growls back before snatching your mouth with his, forceful enough to ensure swollen lips and smudged lipstick. One of his hands rises to your hair pulling the elastic out of place. Allowing his fingers to weave between the strands, he delivers a slight tug to your roots while you drag your teeth across his bottom lip.

You push his suit jacket off his wide shoulders, throwing it down on the counter next to you, before forcefully opening the top of his shirt, accidentally ripping the button off his collar in the process. He pauses his assault on your mouth for a moment, investigating the damage you imposed. 

“It wasn’t my intent to destroy your shirt, but here we are,” You explain unfastening the next two buttons with a bit more care. Your fingers dip under the crisp white cotton of his shirt, raking visible lines down his chest.  “Take responsibility for your actions for once. Tell people your true intentions or you will hurt them.” 

“You want me to know my intentions? Fine.” He unzips your dress a few inches to bare your collar and shoulders before his lips target your neck. You close your eyes letting your head roll back. “I want this.” Seokjin grabs your upper thigh compelling a gasp to escape you. “I want you.” He confesses the same time the door creaks open. 

There’s not much movement from Hwang’s lackey. Your new audience doesn’t come in far, instead he freezes in place when he spots the both of you. Seokjin addresses him in a gruff manner without turning his face away from you . “It’s not a free show buddy, take your piss and leave.” The man clears his throat, turns round and closes the door in his wake, leaving you once alone with Seokjin. Though revelling in his soft bites to your neck, gaining back your composer is a more pressing matter. “I think he’s gone.”

“We can’t be too sure,” Seokjin counters your observation as he continues to nip at the column of your throat. “He might come back.” 

“Shit, I just lost visual of the bar.” Hoseok interrupts much to your embarrassment. You somehow forgot he was on the com-line during your effort to teach your fellow agent a lesson. “We’re running blind, maintain cover for now.”

“See?” The breath of Seokjin’s laughter is felt on your skin as he wins the debate.

“You really want to keep going with this?” You’re surprised, just a few minutes ago the man was making you the butt of his joke. Why the change? 

“I wouldn’t mind. I’m just sorry we couldn’t be somewhere more intimate, or private.”

“You and me both,” Hoseok deadpans.

“Lancelot, I suggest you find something else to watch while we maintain cover as directed,” Seokjin instructs. You find his mouth back on yours before he gets a response on the com. 

He’s right though the circumstances are less than ideal for a romp. The damp counter beneath you, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the out of order stall in the corner are all enough to make you cringe. No part of this is glamorous except for the man standing in front of you, which makes him all the more appealing. “We could just lock the door you know.” You offer a logical substitute plan. “I’m sure after what they’ve seen they would understand and we could stop this charade.”

“But where’s the fun in that? I’m sorry but I am too dedicated to this cover. I want to see it through.”

“Percival’s team will be dropping in two minutes.” Hoseok cuts in. 

“Yes sir,” Seokjin mumbles against your lips while he responds to Hoseok, not dwelling on the interruption. “We should probably make the act more realistic, you know gasps, moans, they might be listening.”

You highly doubt that, but if he wants to play, fine. You’ll show him what he’s missing when he casts you aside. “You first.” You respond, tugging him between your legs, causing the hem of your dress to ride back. His cock erect beneath his pants and pressing against your clothed core. He lets out a groan of relief. “So unlike you to be already standing at attention.” You tease him.

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me,” he gasps in response.

Seokjin takes your legs in his hands driving your dress even further up your thighs as he proceeds to grind against you. He tilts his head with a smile while you react. “Too far?” He whispers. 

You shake your head. If only he knew what he would find if he pulled your underwear aside. Your cunt, committing the ultimate treason against your better sensibility, is ready and willing. If he’s not careful he might get a darkened spot on his suit pants.

As one hand slides further up the inside of your thigh, the other takes your chin directing you to meet his eyes. His fingers tease the edge of your underwear making their presence known and as he waits for permission to go further. You nod back at him. His fingers slip behind the strip of fabric, separating your sopping slit from the damp material. “Looks like you’re well prepared too Merlin.”

“I guess so,” You tease, “Do remind me to give a big tip to the bartender for that.”

“I have a hard time believing that none of this belongs to me.” Seokjin murmurs back to you, but just as his knuckles graze your slick folds and clit, Yoongi announces his team’s arrival. “Another time I guess,” Seokjin whispers with a final kiss to your cheek. He helps you off the counter and pulls down your dress to a more respectable length while he takes one last stroke of your thigh.

“I take it’s safe to restore visual now?” Hoseok asks with a hint of laughter. You’re never going to hear the end of this. “Percival’s about to enter, I do suggest locking the door this time though. In case anyone does make a run for it, we’ll catch them outback. I don’t want you two engaging in this capture if you don’t have too.”  You roll your eyes over Hoseok’s word choice. “Galahad, give Merlin the glasses. I want her input on the scene.”

Seokjin hands off his glasses to you and proceeds to lock you both in.

“Where are they stationed?” You inquire trying to get a full view of the task now at hand.

“The majority including Percival are entering through in the front, and a couple men out back, there was no one there so they must not be expecting a scene. Were there any civilians on site?”

“Just the barman.”

“Okay hang tight.” Hoseok orders.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be helping?” You ask, wanting to distract yourself from the tension between you and Seokjin.

“Nah, Percival’s got this. Besides I saw your reflection and you’re looking a little flushed Merlin, you doing okay?”

“Shut up Lancelot,” you grumble back in a muffled tone. 

“Was it the alcohol or was it Galahad?”  Luckily Seokjin was too far away to hear Hoseok's last question letting you ignore the comment as the team makes their entrance. Yoongi’s glasses give you the full view of what he sees. Hwang, much to your surprise, actually looks interested in the presence of the new arrivals. They’re obviously waiting for someone to show, but it’s clear that they have no idea who to look for.

“Don’t jump on the arrest so fast.” You direct, looking to gain any positive out of this awkward mission. The reward very much outweighing the risk. “You might be able to get some information first. Come off as a buyer, they might be trying to move the information or the tech.”

“You heard her Percival, get as much as you can before we make the catch.” Hoseok confirms your plan back to the rest of the team.

You watch barely drawing breath as he takes a seat across from the target. Hwang opens up the conversation first, “I didn’t think you would bring so many men just for a demonstration.”

“I prefer not to take any chances.” Yoongi’s response is blase, as he beckons the barman over to give his order.  

Hwang looks uncomfortable, for someone with a product to sell he’s lacking the usual confidence that you would expect to see. “Well this should provide for your needs then. You ask me to come to the thick of their territory and as you can see I’m still here.”

“You are, but how do we know they aren’t waiting to make a strike? Have you ever seen one?” Yoongi pushes, he must be taking great enjoyment out of finally being able to pull one over on the man who’s kept them searching for so long.

“I have, once, but I’ve been able to keep myself hiding for months with this.” He taps something a bud placed in his ear. It must be what’s projecting the image overlay on his face disguising his true features. “Camera’s can’t pick up my face underneath, it’s better than any mask you can buy, as requested.”

“Where did you get the tech?” 

“You-” The man pauses, his brow furrows before his expression shifts to a blank slate. He makes a subtle reach for his jacket pocket, but Yoongi is quicker on the draw. Lunging across the table he grabs the back of Hwang’s neck and smashes his head down on the table.

It’s hard to see the rest of the fighting with only Yoongi’s perspective. You catch flashes of the scene as the target’s men retaliate. There’s a flurry of pint glasses to distract as firearms are drawn. Broken shards scatter the establishment as the bartender flees away from danger towards the back exit with a phone to his ear. 

The altercation ends rather quickly, with those who are still conscious held at gunpoint by Yoongi’s men. It’s a relief to see the target secured, and the tech recovered, but you are left with disgust after having your own work be used against your team. 

Hoseok gives you the all clear to leave, but you're not sure you're ready to face the others just yet. “Could you give me a minute?” You request from Seokjin as he goes to open the door. He gives you a nod along with your hair tie, while you hand back his glasses. 

“Yeah, I’ll just go... fetch our coats.”

“Could you find my glasses too while you’re out there Galahad?” 

He freezes for a fraction of a second before giving you a hesitant response, “Yeah... yeah sure thing.”

What, no funny retort? No rebuttal? You thought calling him by his title would cause him to taunt you a little, but nothing comes of it. “If you can’t find them, the barkeep might have them.” That’s probably why the signal went dark, he must have moved them for safe keeping.

“Great. Just who I wanted to see.” He responds with a forced smile and gritted teeth. 

“If it’s that much of a problem I’ll go get them back myself.”

Seokjin leaves you with a grunt, “No, no, I’ll go see the cowardly Casanova.”

 The second he opens the restroom door you can hear Yoongi shout a request. “Galahad can I leave the team out back in your care? I need to move out and take this thief to Arthur for questioning.” 

Hwang had apparently regained consciousness, and starts arguing in his defence. “I didn’t steal that data! I just set them up with someone to make their tech. They were supposed to come here, they asked for a demonstration here and then stood us up!”   

Yoongi chooses to ignore him while he continues to give orders to Seokjin. “Make sure they drug the civilian, and then toss him behind the bar. Shouldn’t need to do much more than that, it already looks like standard bar brawl damage.” 

“That I can do,” Seokjin responds with satisfaction as he steps out letting the door close between the two of you. It’s amazing how much one flirtatious bartender appears to have got under his skin. 

You take a few minutes to straighten yourself in the mirror. Tying up your hair and closing the zipper on your dress when you spot several smudges of lipstick across your skin. You reach blindly for the paper towel, only to knock your purse to the floor in the process. A couple items roll away. Your pen, to your frustration, makes it all the way into the out of order stall. As tempted you are to leave it, you know it wouldn’t be wise to have something so lethal on the floor of a public bathroom.

With a groaning you crouch down, peering through the couple of inches between the stall door and the floor. Finding the missing item next to a pair of well worn leather shoes. You throw yourself back in shock grabbing your pistol from your overturned clutch, taking aim at the door bearing the sign. With a swift kick you force the stall open, and there passed out on the toilet is the man from the pictures behind the bar, the owner that Seokjin was asking after.    

“Shit.” You lower your gun as you run out of the bathroom calling out for back up. The bar is deserted though, Yoongi’s team has already left, forcing you to head down the long hall to the back door alone. You slow your steps as you reach the end of the corridor, starting to pick up bits of conversation between Seokjin and the imposter. You keep yourself plastered to the wall trying to assess the situation with a narrow view through the window next to the door.

The once friendly bartender points a gun at Seokjin. The other agents, those that were supposed to be keeping an eye on the ‘civilian’ are out of commission, all laying on the ground around him. 

“Call her out here, now.” The barman still holds onto his smile as he makes his demand, but now it only gives you chills as you try to puzzle out the motive behind it.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Seokjin keeps his hands at eye level, he’s trying to play the role of innocent bystander but that’ll only get him shot if he’s not careful. 

“The woman with you, that was Merlin, was it not? She designed this tech didn’t she?” He lifts your glasses for Seokjin to see. “And created the original cloaking program. I never should have outsourced it, she saw right through their guise. Since their product was faulty, I’ve been given a new directive.”

“Merlin? You mean like the magician in the old tales? Trust me that woman is nothing of the sort.” Seokjin is actually now chuckling despite having a gun held to him.

“Very well, if you won’t comply. We’ll just have to go retrieve her together.” He gestures Seokjin to the door with his gun. “After you.”

You shift yourself into position behind the door, when Seokjin opens it you remain concealed on the other side. Your fellow agent steps through, moving backwards to keep his eyes on the assailant, allowing him to spot you once he’s inside. You raise a finger to your lips holding your gun to your chest. You can’t let him give off any indication that he’s seen you. 

When Seokjin’s a few feet down the hall the aggressor proceeds to follow, and once his arm crosses the threshold you ram your full weight against the door. There’s a howl of pain as you trap his forearm in the door frame. The gun drops from his hand and hits the floor. Seokjin moves first taking the weapon and then the arm of the man who pointed it at him. You release the door and Seokjin drags the enemy in, throwing him against the wall. There’s a sickening crack as his head meets the concrete behind him.  

Though his body is now lip and eyes in a daze he still chuffs when he spots you, “So nice of you to join us Merlin, we were just talking about you.”

Seokjin pulls back a fist  letting land on the man's face with the full force of a brutal punch, finally sending the culprit into a comatose state.

“You okay?” You ask, noting his unusually rigid composure.

Seokjin nods, straightening his jacket as he lets the imposter fall to the floor. “Looks like I was right, you did catch his attention.” He boasts, with levity returning to his voice. “How did you know to come find me?”

“Found Choi, right where he said he’d be too...” You watch as Seokjin crouches down to retrieve your glasses from the man. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt he works alone.” Seokjin comments while staring at the tattoo that had caught your eye earlier, a flock in the shape of a V. 

...

Yoong makes a return trip, picking up the new captive as well as aiding the unconscious agents. The detainees will be moved to headquarters where they’ll be held for questioning before they’re turned over to the authorities along with a list of transgressions and admissible evidence.

After returning from the bar your base is busier than ever, with everyone following standard procedure and filing reports. There’s hardly room to move, let alone have a private moment with Seokjin to discuss what transpired. A full night and day go by with you only being able to lock eyes with him across the room. As much as you want to talk to him, your duty comes first, ensuring that everyone receives their new orders after the unusual turn of events.

You retreat to your room after a long day of report processing. There are still a few statements left to grab but those can be done tomorrow. The first recordings of the interrogation have come in and you're desperate to hear what Hwang has to say about the tech you found him with. To your delight it’s that exact question which Namjoon poses first.

Hwang rattles off the information, needing little prompting, they must have already cut a deal. “I was contacted  by an anonymous client over a year ago, they asked if I might know of someone who could utilize a cloaking program they had picked up, and apply it to something else. They wanted a mask, a way to hide in plain sight. I offered up a tech company who does some backwater dealings in armaments and weapons, and became the middleman between the two parties until the project was finished.”

“And you have no idea who hired you?” Namjoon asks. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Their wallet was big enough their identity wasn’t a concern, my main contact only referred to himself as V. He called me to the bar last night to provide a final demonstration to prove it worked before his agency made the purchase.”

Seokjin was right, Hwang was just a fence. Which would confirm the other man part of the group who orchestrated the data breach. 

You switch between the video files, hoping to find the other more enlightening. In the very centre of the shot sits the man dubbed as V. He answers none of the questions directed to him. Minutes pass while he remains silent looking directly into the camera with a  jeering grin and narrowed eyes. It’s off putting to say the least, no offer or deal can sway him to spill his knowledge. He looks content almost as if this is exactly where he wants to be. While the interrogators become increasingly frustrated, his smile only grows wider. 

You close out of the recording unable to take the silent stares any more. There’s nothing in his file they’ve attached other than physical attributes.  As you search the empty pages for a scrap of knowledge, a call request comes in from Arthur. You throw on your glasses answering in haste hoping he’ll have something new to share.

“Sorry to bother you so late. It’s been quite a day.” His voice is full of cracks and weariness.

“It’s no problem. I can only imagine after seeing the footage. Any new information on who this man works for? 

“No, nothing.”

“Oh,” Your voice echoes in confusion, “Was there something else you needed? Did you get my report?”

“Yes I did, thorough as usual. But it’s not your report I wanted to discuss.” Namjoon pauses again. ”I received an unusual request from Galahad at the end of his. I wanted to talk it over with you before I gave my answer.”

“Go ahead.” You cringe fearing what he might have said in his statement. 

“I freed him from lock down, and offered a new assignment, but he requested permission to stay and assist you with the vehicle repairs until they were completed. I would permit his extension, but I don’t believe that the answer to this decision rests fully with me, so I’m leaving it to you.”

“Don’t you need him back in the field? We don’t know who this man V is, or who he’s working for.” 

“And it’s doubtful that we’ll learn anything more anytime soon unless he starts answering our questions. There’s little direction in where we can take the investigation right now. I don’t have anything that requires urgent attention, that’s why the choice is yours to make. If you need help or want assistance he’s offering it to you.” 

“Thank you sir,” You’re grateful that he has left you with the final decision on the matter. “Would you mind if I spoke to him first before I decide?”  

“Not at all.”

...

You creep out into the common area, Hoseok is splayed out on the couch while Yoongi’s curled up on the armchair, but Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Did he leave the base taking advantage of his newly acquired freedom?

You doubt you’ll be able to sleep, not with the questions you have running through your head. Looking to keep your mind busy you descend the stairs and enter the passcode to your workshop, only to find the lights already on and Seokjin’s long legs sticking out from under the car. There’s a swear and a clang of a metal tool hitting the cement floor. You hold back a laugh as you approach, choosing instead to surprise him by pulling on the roller bed to tug him out from beneath the car.  

The initial shock on his face quickly changes to a smug grin. “I guess I’ve been caught.”

“Trying to sabotage my work again?”

“No, if you can believe it I’m actually trying to be an aid rather than a hindrance.”

“I’ll alert the media.” You fire back before diving into the more serious topic at hand. “I just got off the line with Arthur. He said you’ve been cleared to return to duty...”

Seokjin’s face falls slightly as he sits up on the rolling platform, “Oh-”

“But you also requested an extension here.”

“I did.” He looks up at you with sincerity, one that’s rarely seen on his face. No deflection to humour. This is just him. 

“I need to know why.” You keep your expression even, not wanting your feelings to influence him in any way.

“I want to help fix the car.”

“I need more of an explanation than that Seokjin. A few days ago you couldn’t wait to get out of here. ” This is it, there’s no room to spare feelings. He’ll tell you he feels guilty, or that he feels sorry for you, leaving you to send him on his way and that will be the end of this trial. 

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before. I like working with you, being here with you. You're not afraid to let me know when I’ve crossed the line.”

“So what, you just want to use me to keep you in check? I’m not here to fix you Seokjin.” You start to back away ready to send word to Namjoon that he’s free to assign him elsewhere when Seokjin grabs your hand, he rises from his spot on the floor in a rush to stand between you and the door. 

“That’s not what I meant. You make me want to be better.”

You pull yourself from his grip backing into the side of the car, “And after you’ve used me to better yourself, what then? You’ll just move on to your next project?” 

“No, fuck... I don’t know how else I can say it other than I like you Merlin. You aren’t the plan, you’re the objective.” He pauses for a moment, watching as his words sink in to you. “If you’re not interested in what I want to offer... I get it, but stop being so blind when it comes to yourself!” 

You fall still as you hear his confession, but you’re not ready to believe or condemn his words just yet. “If that’s the case why did you mock me at the bar?” Your voice wavers as you question him. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“I was going to, but I didn’t think you would appreciate a drunken confession. You wanted a serious conversation, here it is. I want to stay here with you. Even if you’re not interested in a relationship, I respect that, but I still think we could both benefit from working together.”

He’s right, you might have believed him right then, but later, once the effects of the alcohol had worn off you would’ve thought it another game of his. You shift against the car embarrassed by your misreading of his motives, but pleased to see that they fall in line with your own.

“I wouldn’t say that I wasn’t interested...” You mumble your own confession carefully as he shifts in closer to his mouth catching a grin when he hears your words. “But staying would put you in a problematic position when you’re required to follow my orders. If we’re to continue down this path there wouldn’t be an equal power dynamic.”

“Good.” he mutters along with a chuckle. “Is that your only objection?”

“Yes, but-”

“Arthur released me from under your command. Any order you give will be discretionary.” 

“Discretionary orders?” You scoff. “You can barely follow mandatory orders.”

“Yes but it solves your problem, doesn't it? This way you can be sure that I will only follow an order if I want to.” He leans in placing his hands on either side of you on the hood of the car. “So Merlin, do you want me to stay?”

“Yes...”

“Do you want to continue what we started yesterday?” 

You nod biting your lip at the thought of it.

“Then I await your orders.” He stands still not moving an inch while you remain caged between his arms and caught in his eyes.

“Let’s be clear on something first,” You state, trying not to focus on how close his lips are or how soft they’ll feel when they touch your skin.“I don’t want you to think you are in any way saving me.”

“I am well aware of that now. I finally realise I need you to save me.”

“From what?” You can’t help but laugh at his conclusion.

“My impulsive actions.” He lifts you onto the car just like he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. “My runaway mouth.” He closes the distance for a swift kiss. “And my very unprofessional desires.” His fingers flirt with the bottom of your shirt taking up residence underneath the garment against the skin of your waist. 

“Yet you combat every effort when someone tries to restrain those tendencies,” You scold with a smile.

“You told me yourself I don’t go down easily... If you want to put me in my place you’re going to be more commanding.”

“And you would like that?” You ask in disbelief.  

“Why don’t you find out...” 

“Seokjin I-I don’t know if I-” You start to panic, stammering at the thought of going too far and becoming what others have thought of you before, “I don’t want you to hate...”

“If I need to stop I’ll tell you to brake. But right now I really want you to take the wheel, and put your foot down. No detours, just floor it.” He tightens his hold on you leaning in next to your ear with a growl. “Don’t get shy on me now. Give me your orders.” 

The cheek in his tone at last sets off the need for retaliation in you, evoking a desire to finally see him begging you for more. He’s never backed away from you, leaving you with no reason to believe he’ll do so now. If this is what he wants you’ll be happy to try and make him submit. “You can start with losing this.” You tug on his grease stained shirt. “And these too.” Dragging your finger over the waist of his jeans. 

He strips looking eager to play along. Leaving him in a pair of black boxers clinging to his swelling girth. “Like what you see?”

“You’ll do.” You snicker back at him. You take the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, as he moves to hold your lower back. He finds his way between your thighs once again but this time there’s nothing to stop you both from going further. 

“Do you want to take those off?” You brush your hands on the elastic of his underwear.

“Yes.” His answer is short and sweet, with nothing to misinterpret. You could get used to this side of him.

“Then you’ll have to do something for me first.” You shift your pants down kicking them to the floor. Taking one last kiss of Seokjin’s lips before pressing his shoulders down to make his mouth level with your hips. The grin he gives is something to revel in, finally seeing it as a sign of desire rather than a farce.

He pulls your underwear to the side. The first lick is short and sweet causing you to flinch from the flick of his tongue. The second he takes care in following the line of your slit but he doesn’t pull away at the end, instead he latches on to your clit taking deep drags which pull you under in an instant. 

Your hand reaches out to grip his hair needing something to hold on to and hold him back with if necessary, but once your fingers tug at Seokjin’s locks he moans into your flesh. His hands pull you closer to the edge of the car allowing him to bury himself even deeper.    

He slowly gains a rhythm with his tongue and lips, but every time you come close, when your breathing becomes shallow he starts to pull back. He’s teasing you, clearly goading you to become more strict with your desires. 

“No more games Seokjin. If you can’t get me there in the next minute, I promise you’ll regret it.”

He pulls away for a moment to draw breath while giving you a taunt. “I’d like to see that.” 

He’s about to return to his task when you push him back, no longer giving him the chance at redemption. You point to a straight back chair facing away from you , “Sit down, with your head forward.” 

He does as you ask with a smile still stuck to the corner of his mouth. You slide off the car and move behind him towards your work desk, stripping off your shirt, and undergarments as you stray from his line of sight. Grabbing something from the inventory closet before you return to him, still hiding from his gaze .

He tries to look back at you but you put a stop to that. “Did I say you could look around?”

“No ma’am.” He chuckles back.

“Since you like games so much I thought of one to play. Give me your hand, and tell me what I put in it without looking.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with-” You cut off his complaint quickly by placing the metal object in his hand reaching out behind him. “Handcuffs?” Seokjin questions with surprise. “I stand corrected, this seems like a fun game.” 

“Put them on,” you order. He complies instantly, letting you check the tightness once he’s done. “Safey’s there if you need it. Just tell me to brake.”

“Oh no, I’m quite comfortable thank you.” He grins proudly as if this is what he was hoping for all along.

As you move in front of him finally gracing him with your nude form he stares back at you dumbfounded. You reach out to the corner of his mouth, which sits agape, wiping at the edge of his lips with your thumb. “Sorry I thought I spotted some drool.” Seokjin smiles at your mimicry and jab, but he has no words to follow with.

You kneel down in front of him, your hands trailing up to reach for his boxers. “May I?”

“Please do.”

You tug them down releasing his erection from the confines of the fabric. You're careful not to touch him, not wishing to give any satisfaction or stimulation. Once they’re pulled down to his ankles you move to the uninstalled backseat of the car sitting right across from him. Seokjin furrows his brow in confusion. 

“Something wrong?” You prompt hoping to have him admit that he wants you to return to him.

“No, just admiring the view.” 

“Really?” You persist in teasing him a little more, “Because it looks like you need something.”

“Only to know the next step in this game of yours.”

“You get to watch while I play.” You lay back on the car bench resting your feet on the soft leather. Your hand moving down between your legs picking up where Seokjin left off, with a slow rub to your crest.

“That seems unfair.” He flexes his arms, testing the cuffs as he watches you. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t read the instructions, I get to make the rules.” He lets out a groan as you close your eyes ready to concentrate on your own pleasure. You know you’re wet enough already but for good measure and Seokjin’s torturous show you prep your fingers in your mouth before slipping the tip of your index finger inside yourself. 

There’s a small whine from Seokjin, you look over to him, your eyes take a moment to focus on his face, his teeth digging into his now swollen bottom lip. “Let me help you, please.”

“That’s not how punishments work Seokjin. You had your chance, and you disobeyed.”

Giving him a side profile allows your thigh to hide the sight of your fingers dipping in. The sounds though, those are his to enjoy. You continue to satisfy yourself for a while longer enjoying the little jots of pleasure you can give yourself and Seokjin’s moan every time you twitch. It’s hard not to pay attention and give in to returning to him. With his cock pulsing against his leg with a drop of precum growing at the tip. His lip must be sore with how hard he’s biting down. 

Unable to ignore his whimpers any longer you get up from the leather bench. You present your fingers to his mouth damp from your ministrations. You don’t even get the chance to ask before he takes them into his mouth and licks them clean. When you pull them from his lips, he beams back at you. “Was that attentive enough for you?” 

“Very...” You commend him, straddling his legs facing him as you lower yourself. Your hand grips his cock while the other rests on his shoulder balancing yourself as you guide him inside. 

He gasps out a swear along with your real name as you sink down fully onto his lap. You lean into him letting your chest push against his as you rise and fall on his shaft. Pressing and grinding yourself against his seated form has him throbbing inside of you. He’s quickly become a breathy mess beneath you, a sheen of sweat covers his forehead, with even more dripping down his pecs. 

Your pace increases in speed as you edge closer to your climax. The warmth begins to spread to your extremities as you continue to thrust down. When the wave finally washes over you can barely move. “Fuck-” You whisper along with a plea. “Don’t you dare come yet.” You collapse against him riding it out, clenching while Jin groans.

“Take the cuffs off.” His moaning request is impossible to deny. As fun as it was to see him at your mercy you long to have his hands back on you. 

You reach for the restraints behind his back, with a quick press of a hidden release he’s free.  Wasting no time he grabs you, helping your legs to wrap around his waist. Positioning you securely against him, he rises to move two steps required in order to ram you back down onto the car bench. 

He pulls one leg up and over his shoulder while he holds the other level with his hip. Despite your sensitivity, he’s relentless in his thrusts, pushing you directly from the wave you just finished and on to the next. 

He’s so close to his end, his muscles tense, his face stern with a clenched jaw, it takes a moment for you to realize he’s waiting for your permission. He’s holding back until you give him the okay. “You can come Seokjin.” Upon hearing this his thrusts suddenly hit harder forcing you to cry out. “Fuck, please come.”

He shudders with the last impact. Releasing your legs, he lowers himself onto you while his cock still pulses inside. His head rests on the seat beside yours, the hot air from his heavy pants flows down your neck as you lay there trying to catch your own breath.

“I think we might have ruined the new car seat.” You chuckle at him, your laughter restricted by the pressure of his body on your chest. “I should probably order another.”

“And miss out on Hoseok’s expression when he realized what the stains are from?” He nudges closer, kissing the spot behind your ear with his swollen lips. “Not a chance.”

You start to drift beneath him content with the warmth and weight of his form. He gives you a few minutes rest caressing the side of your face with the tip of his finger before he poses an important question. “You’re still okay with me staying here then?”

You turn your head to meet his eyes with a smirk. “Yes, but you still have to earn your keep if you want a stay.” You gesture to the state that he’s left the workshop in, “In addition to cleaning up your mess.” 

Seokjin briefly glances to the tools strewn along the ground and then back at you with a smirk. He then shifts his whole body down, dipping his head back between your legs. “Yes ma’am.”  His tongue takes a long stroke, cupping your cum filled cunt. “Hope you don’t mind if I start here.”

[abusedsanderssides]

I Will Always Protect You, Dark Angel

Trigger/content warnings: Many mentions to rape and noncon (not actual described), abusive/unsympathetic Patton, hurt/comfort, sympathetic Roman, slight self-harm thoughts, self-esteem issues, mean internal monologue.

Ship(s): Abusive Moxiety, platonic/romantic Prinxiety (you decide).

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton

2316 words

Prompt: Could you write roman comforting Virgil after Virgil was noncon'd by someone (idk if that makes sense, I love your writing)

Requested by Anonymous link

A/N: Anon, I didn't know if you wanted Virgil and the other character (in this case Patton) to already be in a relationship so I just made it that way, I hope that's what you wanted! If anyone wants me to write out the actual scene that happened before this took place I'm totally down to do it! I might do it anyway, but if you want to request something(s) that will happen in that one shot let me know! :)

-  8/11/21

Virgil stared at the ceiling, brain foggy and tears running down his face. His body was still, laying in the position it was left in, naked. The door to his room clicked as it was closed, causing Virgil to flinch. Every noise he heard was too much and too loud. He was alone in his room, happy that Patton left but devastated that he was left alone to deal with the issue himself.

Curling into a ball on his side he cried into his pillow, his sobs silent from practice. Virgil felt gross and icky. Like there was something on him but he couldn't get it off. His skin was crawling and he wanted to hurt himself. He deserved it. He was disgusted with himself. He was tainted. Ruined. And it was all his fault.

"God, you're so weak, you couldn't even stand up for yourself,"  The cruel voice in his head taunted, Virgil's shoulders hitching as his cries increased. "You let him use you like the toy you are. Hell, he might even do it again with how obedient you were."

'Shut up!' Virgil screamed internally at the voice in his head.

"Oh, wow. Such a great comeback. You liked it and you knew it. With all the moaning and shit. Do you want him to do it again? Just beg like you were when you wanted him to stop so bad, then maybe he'll listen. Instead this time he'll shut you up with his dick instead of a gag."

Virgil couldn't help but let out a sob into his pillow, curling his arms around himself tighter. Did he actually like it? Is he just faking this? Why would he moan if he wasn't enjoying it? 'I didn't want it,' he reminded himself but still not quite believing it.

'I wish I had a stuffed animal or something to hold. I wish someone would hold me. I wish Patton would hold me.' Virgil just cried louder at the loss of trust he had in Patton.'Why did he have to do that to me?! Why did that have to happen?! Why didn't he stop?! What did I do wrong?! WHY DIDN'T I WANT IT?!'

He hugged his pillow tighter, curling his body around it and burying his face. That only reminded him of how naked he was, too disgusted to even look at himself. Virgil's body was too weak to move.

"Go bother someone else, maybe they'll fuck you too."

'Maybe I will.'

"NO! Don't do that! You'll only seem needy and helpless."

'No, I won't. He cares about me and will understand when I explain what happened.'

"But what if he doesn't?!"

Virgil's brain continued to argue with itself, losing himself to the thoughts. His crying died down, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

He gave himself a few minutes to compose himself before getting up off his bed. Virgil was careful, still sore and weak.

Picking up his clothes on the floor on the way over he limped to his bathroom, only taking ten minutes to do so. He closed the bathroom door shut, triple checking that it was locked and that he was truly alone.

Virgil couldn't avoid the large mirror that hung on the wall above his vanity. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the disgustingly naked body that was his own, his eyes refusing to look away.

Only after his vision became blurry with tears could he tear his eyes away, breaking down once more.

Turning his body he carefully sunk to the floor, propping his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his hands.

Virgil felt another anxiety attack building up and let it consume him. His breathing became erratic and his body shook, unable to control the sobs that tore from his lungs.

Once Virgil's shaking and crying slowed to a stop he began to breathe. He ignored the argument occurring in his head, running his hands through his hair and wining his snotty nose on a towel lying on the floor.

Carefully, Virgil pulled himself from the floor and stumbled to his clothes. Virgil cautiously stepped into his boxers, sitting down on the closed toilet seat afterward for support. He then pulled on sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, covering his body.

He ignored the mirror on his way out, not caring about how red his eyes were or the smudged eyeshadow streaming down his cheeks.

Virgil trudged to his door and turned the handle as quietly as he could. He closed the door behind him and padded down the carpeted hall to Roman's room, standing in front of his door.

Anxiety started to build up in his chest again, panic shooting through his brain as he had second thoughts about his plan.

"What if he doesn't care? What if he laughs? What if he tells you to go away? What if he tells everyone? What if he just wants to do the same thing to you?!"

Virgil shook his head, a few stray tears going with it. He ran a hand through his hair again, going through a breathing exercise.

'In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat.' After Virgil had repeated that process a few times he took a deep breath in, let it out, and opened his eyes again.

He brought a hand up to the door and knocked twice as quietly as he could without waking the others up but still announcing his presence to Roman. His heart pounded in his chest as he anxiously waited for any response from Roman.

"Virgil?"

Virgil's eyes shot up to meet Roman's, tears spilling out.

"Shh, come here," Roman went to wrap an arm around Virgil but abruptly stopped when he flinched backward. "What happened?"

Virgil's only response was to fling himself at Roman, hugging the stronger man like it was his last time ever seeing him.

"It might be after he finds out."

'Shut. Up.'

Roman immediately hugged the anxious boy back, pulling him into the room and closing the door. "Would you like to sit on my bed? We can cuddle if you want."

Virgil nodded his head, not trusting himself to be able to talk with all of his crying. Roman then guided both of them towards his bed, helping Virgil sit.

Once Roman sat down, Virgil flung himself at him, crying harder into his shoulder.

"Whatever dare hurt you my dark shadowling, will get the wonderful gift of my sword run through them by yours truly!" Roman exclaimed dramatically.

Virgil chuckled, a small smile forming on his face from Roman's drama. Roman's eyes lit up a little at that, glad he could help Virgil even if he only smiled a little.

"Now tell me, dear," Roman lent forward, hugging Virgil tighter, "who made my chemically imbalanced romance cry and will soon be faced with my sword?"

Virgil pulled back so Roman could see his face. Thoughts ran through his head.

Should I tell him? If I do, what do I even say? What will he think? What will happen? What if Roman tells Patton? How will he react if he finds out?

With Virgil's mind still racing he opened his mouth slightly but closed it soon after, his brows furrowing. He opened it slightly again, trying to force words out of his throat, but they got caught once more.

His brain felt like a hamster running in a ball, never-ending. His head was too loud, he couldn't focus on one thought without being interrupted by another.

Roman seemed to notice this, slowly and carefully placing a delicate hand on Virgil's shoulder. Virgil flinched, but being startled seemed to drag him out of the mosh pit that was his mind.

"It's okay," Roman softly spoke, "You can tell me whatever is on your mind. It is my duty as Prince Roman to help you in any way possible. I will not judge, as a noble prince does not."

Virgil seemed to think while Roman paused, repeating Roman's words over and over again in his head. Everything was cloudy and after a few minutes, he finally seemed to process the words.

Roman waited, only continuing once Virgil looked back into his eyes, silently telling him to keep talking. "Of course, you do not have to tell me anything if you do not please to do so; I am not pressuring you into anything. I simply want to help my dark prince because I mourn every time I see a tear roll down your beautiful face."

If Roman's lights weren't dim, Virgil was sure he could see the blush spread across his cheeks, his face bright pink and hot. The way Roman spoke to him made him feel safe and secure, just like when Roman would hold him.

Virgil looked back into Roman's eyes, silently asking to be held, comforted, touched, or anything. His crying had calmed down, only a few lonely tears resting on his cheeks that would dry soon.

With Roman knowing Virgil for so long and becoming so close to him, he could read Virgil like a book. He slowly brought his arms up, letting Virgil take the lead. Virgil saw what Roman was doing and wrapped his arms around the middle of his torso, Roman embracing him in a hug.

"Patt," was all Virgil said, barely above a whisper and muffled by the fabric of Roman's red shirt. Roman took a moment to understand, confused about what Virgil said.

Roman rested his cheek in Virgil's soft brown hair and asked, "Patton? What about him?"

Virgil was silent for a few minutes. What do I say? How do I tell him?

A few more minutes passed before Virgil mustered up the courage to talk. "He... did something."

Roman was silent, giving Virgil the time he needed. Lifting his head a little, he started to play with Virgil's hair and scratched his skull the way he loved.

"To me."

Silence.

There was tension in the air. Roman froze his actions. Virgil's heart pounded harder than it had been, and he was sure it was going to beat out of his chest.

Roman couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Virgil... what do you mean he did something to you?"

Virgil could barely hear the words Roman was saying over the blood rushing in his ears and his own quickened breath. He could feel himself start to hyperventilate, eyes becoming blurry with tears.

With two of his senses gone he started to panic more. Suddenly, he felt hands on him and flinched his whole body away, his mind traveling back to only an hour before.

Roman immediately removed his hands, becoming more and more suspicious of Virgil's reactions. He had his own guesses, but threw them out the window in his mind, hoping that they weren't true.

Virgil's own mind was racing and screaming and shouting and NOT SHUTTING UP. He tried to bring his hands up to his head to knock the voices away, but it just brought back another flashback. His sobbing increased, hands desperately and blindly grabbing for something.

His hands landed on Roman's shirt, fingers curling into fists in the fabric. It was grounding and once Roman realized he started to slow his own breathing, making it as obnoxious as possible. Virgil could hear it and vacantly remembered what it meant, not quite grasping the meaning but following along with his instincts. Virgil started to slow his own breathing to match the other that he could hear.

After a few minutes, Virgil mastered the practice and was breathing at the same pace Roman was. Virgil's brain had cleared and he had been able to see the strong man in front of him, so he leaned forward and nuzzled his face into Roman's chest.

"May I hold you?" It was barely above a whisper, Roman not wanting to startle the weakened man. After a nod he wrapped his warm arms around the other, embracing him in a hug.

Time passed, which Roman was much too busy comforting Virgil to keep track of, before either one spoke a word.

"I will always protect you, my dark angel." Virgil sniffled, raising his head to meet Roman's gaze. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks shiny in the dim lighting, hair messy. Roman thought he looked beautiful.

And then Virgil smiled, his gorgeous smile, and Roman thought the sight was even more beautiful. "You're a dork." Virgil rasped out, edgy as ever.

Roman chuckled, smiling down at Virgil, causing Virgil to duck his head because he too was smiling. "You always seem to lighten the mood no matter the situation, my dear."

Virgil lifted his head again, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed. "Th-thats... I wasn't trying to-" Virgil muttered, the rest of his sentence unheard due to him ducking his head once more.

Roman held in another chuckle, only squeezing Virgil tighter and placing a light kiss on the top of his hair.

They stayed like that for god knows how long, bathing in each other's presence. Roman would stay there forever if requested to, happiest when comforting and spending time with Virgil.

"I'm tired," Virgil mumbled, only stating his point more when he yawned not only seconds later. Virgil's eyes were heavy, brain foggy, body tired and sore, but content in Roman's hold.

"Alright, shadowling, let's get to bed. Would you like to sleep in here?" Virgil sleepily nodded his head, pressing into Roman's chest more, not wanting to move anytime soon.

Roman smiled as he lifted the emo into his arms and tucked him into bed, climbing in after him. Virgil was attached to him in seconds, like they were both magnets, and was asleep minutes later.

Roman decided that he would find out more when Virgil was ready, but until then he would support Virgil and protect him even if his own life depended on it.

Hey, look who isn't dead! Schools starting soon so updates are gonna be very slow.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Playing with Fire

Relationship: Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant

Characters: Lila Rossi, Rose Lavillant, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Juleka Couffaine, Alya Césaire, Ivan Bruel, Chloé Bourgeois, Luka Couffaine, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Fang

Additional Tags: Lila salt, Good Chloé Bourgeois, Uncle Jagged Stone, Emotional Support Crocodile, Principal Damocles salt, Bustier salt

Summary: Lila tries to break up Kitty Section. It doesn't go as planned. Salty.

Notes: Had this stuck in my head as an idea. There’s been a trope of Luka being kicked out of Kitty Section because of Lila pulling something like this. Except I don’t think she’d get that far with it. Also, every time I hear this song it makes me think of Lila.

AO3 link

She's got a history of making a scene, yeah

She's telling stories she’s gaslighting

-The Interrupters

“Are you sure it’s… appropriate for an older boy like Luka to be in Kitty Section?”

Marinette froze in the middle of taking a bite of a croissant as Lila’s words floated across the courtyard, her mind filled suddenly with the desire to shriek at the liar, even knowing that would backfire as it always did. She wanted to defend Luka. If Adrien was here rather than at a photo shoot, he’d see Lila was actually trying to hurt people with this.

She barely realized she’d stopped breathing until she started coughing, and that nearly sent the bite of food down the wrong tube. By the time she’d recovered, she had missed any response from the present members of Kitty Section, and Lila was talking again.

“I’m just concerned, is all. I’ve told you I’m like Jagged Stone’s favorite person, right? I know a few people in the industry, really. And some of the execs just don’t sign bands if there’s such a big age gap between members. Like you three and Luka.”

Marinette put down the croissant, trying to build her courage. She could defend Luka.

“But Luka’s Juleka’s brother,” Rose said, looking concerned.

“Yeah, that can look even weirder.”

Marinette started to stand up, but then she caught a Look that passed between the couple. At times they were so in sync it was scary.

Juleka glanced her way, shook her head minutely, and quirked a half-smirk as though to say, We got this.

“You must have worked with some amazing people, Lila!” Rose gushed.

Her admiration sounded just a touch off, but Lila was too busy preening to notice.

“I have. Clara Nightingale texts me all the time.”

“Oh, I have an idea,” Juleka said, her voice faux shy. “I-I mean, if you don’t mind? Like can we try guessing the artists you know? Like a game?”

Lila’s smile widened. “Oh, that sounds like so much fun!”

Marinette carefully kept her face blank, picking at her croissant and ignoring the pitying look Alya sent her way from her seat beside Lila. It wouldn’t do to give the game away.

Ivan’s expression had also gone blank, as though he too knew what was up and wanted to see what happened.

“Oh! I have one. 30 Seconds to Mars?” Rose asked.

Lila shook her head. “No, but I know their producer.”

“What about My Chemical Romance?” It was Juleka’s turn.

“Yeah, they’re a silly bunch,” Lila said with a giggle. “I dated the lead singer for a few months. We’re still friends.”

Marinette had to stop herself from snorting—like an artist in his 40s was going to date a teenager! But clearly Lila only knew the band name and that they were popular among teens.

But apparently the game wasn’t over, and Rose made another guess. In the next three minutes, Lila told them all about three songs written for her and exotic concert venues. Some of the smiles of their classmates were becoming a bit forced as they recognized band names and knew more about them than the liar. Marinette knew enough about music to know that every single band they’d named had sibling members.

“The Carpenters?” Juleka eventually asked.

By the way Lila’s face brightened, Marinette could guess she definitely knew they were famous and would make a great story.

“Oh my gosh, we’re so close! I helped them write some of the lyrics for their most recent album!”

Alya made a choking noise, and while trying not to crack up Marinette realized the girl had finally caught one of the lies.

Chloé was suddenly hissing in her ear, “Put the call on speaker when it rings,” before she moved toward the stairs to the classroom.

Marinette glanced at her suspiciously, but was immediately drawn back to the show when Juleka crossed her arms and laughed.

The smile on Lila’s face faltered for a moment, before returning with a look of confusion. “Did I say something funny?”

“Their last album came out in 1981, so unless you’re secretly like 50 years old pretending to be a teenager like I’m guessing you’ve pretended everything else, it’s hilarious,” Juleka drawled loudly, her shyness momentarily absent in her glee.

In the stunned silence, during which Lila’s face twitched and turned an interesting array of colors, Marinette’s phone rang.

The screen read Uncle Jagged.

Marinette blinked, suddenly realizing what Chloé had meant, and—

Chloé had gotten Jagged to call her?!

She answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Um, hello?”

“Marinette! Where’s the fire?! Drive faster, Penny!” He sounded almost frantic.

“Fire?” She asked.

“I heard my favorite niece is having an emergency. What’s wrong?”

“I’m just at school, Uncle Jagged,” she said, putting emphasis on his name and taking joy in how Lila’s face turned a mottled white. “Having lunch and a show. Are you in Paris?”

“The school? Penny, she’s at the school.” Jagged’s voice was distant as he talked to his assistant, then came back full force. “Hang tight. Uncle Jagged and Aunt Penny are coming. Clara’s here, too!”

The line went dead.

Lila stood abruptly. “Oh, I just remembered, I need to—”

Ivan put his hands on her shoulders gently, suddenly behind her. “Sit.”

The Italian’s eyes darted around the table, finding no sympathy. She sat. Ivan kept his hands on her shoulders, not quite menacing.

Chloé’s laugh rang out from above, and Marinette glanced up to see that the blonde had M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier in tow.

“What is it you need us to see, Mlle. Bourgeois?” the principal demanded. “We were enjoying lunch.”

Jagged sprinted through the entrance, Fang on a leash and easily keeping up. “Marinette! I came right away!”

“M. Stone!” M. Damocles sounded a bit strangled. “You cannot bring that… creature on school property!”

“Can so. Fang’s my emotional support crocodile!”

Penny trotted up from behind him and handed a slip of paper to the principal.

Clara was behind Penny, looking concerned as she approached. “Marinette, are you unwell? I hear for us you’ve a tale to tell.”

Marinette’s face grew warm. “I’m okay, Clara. I’m not sure why Jagged thought there was an emergency.”

Chloé let out an irritated huff. “Because there was. The entire class was being seduced by a liar’s pretty stories, and that thot was bullying you.”

Jagged let out an outraged string of what sounded like they could be curse words if they were pronounced in a non-Cockney accent.

Eventually he scanned the courtyard. “Okay, which of you has been bullying my niece? It’s time for Fang’s lunch, anyway.”

“We don’t have the paperwork to cover that, Jagged,” Penny commented, though she too was leveling a hard stare at the students.

“Bullying certainly isn’t cool. Why was it allowed in this school?” Clara took a seat next to Marinette, taking one of her hands. “You of all people deserve much better: why, you’re a wonderful budding trend-setter.”

A lump was forming in Marinette’s throat; she’d spent so long being strong while all of this had been going on, figuring no one would believe her. But Chloé, of all people, had brought in the cavalry.

Juleka was the one to finally answer Jagged, pointing at Lila. “She’s the one. Just tried to convince me to kick my own brother out of our band and claimed she helped the Carpenters write their last album.”

Jagged studied Juleka for a moment. “You’re Anarka’s kid, yeah? ’Course you’ve got a band. Music’s in your blood.”

Then he turned to Lila. “So what other tall tales has this one been making up?”

Nathaniel opened his sketchbook. “That she’s best friends with Ladybug, has arthritis, got tinnitus saving your kitten from a runaway airplane, you wrote a song about her—“

“A kitten? A song? I’ve never seen that brat in all my life.”

“I mean, there’s more. But she also told us that Clara texts her all the time earlier.”

Clara’s expression turned stormy. “Using my name to borrow fame? I truly think you have no shame! The rest of this class needn’t lie, for they’ve all danced at my side!”

“She was pretending to be in Achu when we participated in your music video, Mlle. Nightingale,” Rose offered softly. “She’s also claimed to know Prince Ali, but I bet if I texted him right now we’d learn that’s a lie, too.”

Chloé scoffed, turning to M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier. “Did you even look into her claims about being in Achu, or having disabilities?”

The principal stuttered an excuse, while their teacher turned pale.

“It seems the school has dropped the ball. Her parents they should try to call.”

Lila chose that moment to push away from the table and out of Ivan’s reach, fleeing from the school as though her ugly-ass romper was on fire.

Marinette sighed. Volpina, take three, was likely on the horizon.

But as her classmates gathered around her apologizing, Alya sitting beside her and hugging her, she could feel it was all going to be okay.

Especially if she got to smack Lila around a little when she was akumatized.

I’m a match, she’s kerosene

You know she’s gonna burn down everything

She’s an arsonist in her pastime

And I’ve been burned for the last time

-The Interrupters

[devilatmydoor]

love is fatal I part 13

a/n; hi all!! i hope you are all doing well!! this part was so fun to write and if you know me well enough you will see why :) let me know what you think in the tags, my ask box or my dms! please stay safe, mind body and soul! 

masterlist // previous parts -  9 10 11 12 

word count; 3.3k (just under 4!)

warnings- language & drinking 

The sound of faint music in the background played as his eyes looked at the costumes in front of him, he lost track of Veronica soon after they started shopping. He looked around and left the area he was in quickly locating Veronica on the other side of the store, he walked over to her. He cleared his throat as he walked up to her and she giggled looking at him, “Hey you, have you seen anything you like?”

“Not yet, have you?” He asked as he grabbed her hand as their fingers intertwined. She showed him the handbasket in her hand but the costume was hidden.  

“I have a costume in here but I'm not sure you want to go along with it” She sighed as she walked with him.

“Why not?”

“Because you have to wear a suit and a fake mustache.” She giggled as her cheeks turned pink.

He had no clue what she was referring to, “So much for lowkey costumes." He chuckled knowing that he’d never get away with something lowkey with his Halloween obsessed girlfriend.

"Did you really think you'd get away with a lowkey costume while dating me?” She shook her head playfully before leading him towards the dressing room area

"No, but it was worth a shot. Are you gonna show me what's in the basket?" He asked as they reached an empty dressing room

"I'm gonna try it on. I was thinking we could be Morticia and Gomez Adam's." She smiled letting go of his hand.

His eyes widened as he realized what she meant by suit and a fake mustache, "Let's see the costume and we'll see."

She nodded,  kissed his cheek, and entered the room before closing the door behind her.

He crossed his arms as he waited for her to open the door and show him hr costume. He knew this wouldn't be the only idea for costumes since they had Ashton’s party to attend the day before hers.

The door slowly opened and his eyes glued to Veronica who was now dressed in a long, skin-tight, velvet dress. She took her hair out of the bun and let it fall down naturally, "What do you think?"

He stepped closer to her to get a better view; it hugged her curves perfectly and the neckline showed the perfect amount of skin, "As long as I get to see you in this dress and it ends up on the floor at the end of the night, I'm in."

Within seconds her cheeks turned pink "Really?"

He nodded before kissing her forehead, "Yes angel, do you need help getting out of the dress?" He winked and she turned bright red.

"You wish Hood." She winked before stepping back into the dressing room closing the door. He left the area to look around in hopes of finding inspiration for their second costumes. His gaze fixed on the Angel costume thinking of how he’s called her angel since their first date. He looked to see Veronica making her way over to him as he grabbed the angel costume and walked towards her, “What about this?”

“You want me to be an angel?” She asked softly as she looked at the dress.

“You are my angel,” He kissed her forehead and smiled, “You don’t have to wear this exact outfit but I was thinking maybe if your an angel I could be a devil.” He smirked and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s a good idea.” She kissed his cheek and walked towards the cashier, “You just want me wearing something short since my Morticia costume is so long.”

He let out a low chuckle as he grabbed her free hand, “You do have a point.”

She kissed his cheek before setting her basket on the counter for the cashier, he stood by as she checked out. She grabbed his hand before walking towards the door, “Are you hungry?”

He nodded as he opened the door for them, “I am, can we order take out?”

She smiled before kissing his hand, “Of course, let’s go to your place.”

He grabbed his car keys as they walked towards his car, he unlocked the door and opened the passenger door for her, “For you my love.”

She blushed before softly  kissing his lips softly and smiling, “Thank you, my love.” She got in the car and sat down followed by him closing the door behind her.

He got in the driver’s seat before starting the car pulling out of the parking lot and resting his hand on her thigh. She placed her hand on top of his and turned on the radio softly while he drove to his place.

He felt her fingers trace over his tattoos as he pulled into his neighborhood “What are you hungry for?”

She kissed his hand before intertwining their fingers, “Hmm, maybe we can make something instead of ordering out. What do you think?”

He smiled as he approached his block, “That’s a good idea angel.’

She kissed his hand as he drove up to his house slowly parking in his driveway. She unbuckled her seatbelt to kiss his cheek and turn off the radio while he finished parking. He unbuckled his seatbelt before cupping her jaw with his free hand and kissing her lips softly. She smiled against his lips before kissing his lips and resting her hand on his chest, he let go of her hand so he could hold her face with his hand, she softly nibbled on his bottom lip before whispering, “As much as I don’t want to stop, we should get in your house before I climb in your lap.”

He softly groaned and nodded in agreement, “Knowing us once we start there is no stopping us.”

She giggled as her eyes met his, “We don’t need to scar your neighbors.’

He let out a low chuckle before slowly opening his door, “You do have a point, pretty girl.” She opened her door followed by him stepping out of the car. She walked in front of his car waiting for him, he wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her close to him.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, “It is okay if I change into your clothes? Your clothes are much more comfortable than mine.”

He kissed the top of her head and smiled, “Of course, you can always wear my clothes.”

He opened the front door and let her inside following after her, he closed the front door and locked it behind him. Veronica left his side to pet Duke who had run-up to her wagging his tail, “I see someone has a new favorite.” He took off his shoes as Veronica set her things on the couch.

“Hershey does the same thing with you Cal.” She giggled looking at him and winking while she stood up straight, “I’m gonna go change clothes. I’ll be right back.”

He kissed her forehead before she stepped away from him and walked down the hallway. He opened the fridge to look for food they could possibly make for dinner. He found frozen pizza in the freezer and set it on the counter. He turned around to see Veronica in her favorite hoodie of his that covered her ass so she discarded her pants.

She walked past him and sat on his kitchen counter, she motioned him closer and he stepped between her legs dangling off the edge, she wrapped her legs around him and he held her waist, “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi handsome,” She breathed as she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer while her lips met his in a breathtaking kiss, he slowly opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as her tongue traced his lower lip. He gripped her hips as she firmly kissed him as if they hadn’t kissed in months.

* * * * 

The sky painted in orange, purple, and pink hues as they walked down the crowded street, her hand intertwined with his as they weeded through the crowd toward the restaurant. Calum held the door open for her as she walked inside waiting for him, he stood in the front of the restaurant waiting for Luke and Michael. The hostess sat Calum and Veronica at their reserved table, Calum sat next to her resting his hand on her thigh, “You okay baby?” 

In some ways she wishes Calum didn’t know her better than he did, he knew when she was anxious or sad, happy, and excited. He knew how to read her like a book, “I’m just nervous, neither of you told me what the surprise is about.” 

“I promise you are going to love it, Michael thought you’d believe if he had proof rather than just telling you. I was going to keep it a secret until the night of but I know my girl.” He smiled, kissing her forehead. She could swear her heart skipped a beat when he called her his girl. 

“I love it when you call me that.” She breathed as she rested her hand on top of his taking deep breaths. 

“I love you.” He beamed, kissing her lips softly before kissing her nose. 

“I love you.” She smiled at him moments before kissing his lips softly. 

“Hey! Get a room!” Michael yelped before sitting across from Calum, Luke sat down across from Veronica. 

“We’d like to but you two knuckleheads wanted to have dinner with us!” She teased with a wink. 

“That’s because Cal here didn’t think you’d believe me if he just told you!” Michael commented as he sipped his water. 

“Well he’s probably right, he knows how much I hate surprises.” She divulged as she squeezed Calum’s hand. 

“Well I know you are going to love this one.” Luke beamed as he looked at Michael. 

“We might as well tell her, she’s already anxious enough,” Calum explained, shooting her a comforting smile. 

“A couple of months ago I entered into a contest to win concert tickets for 4 people not thinking we’d actually win because of how popular the band is but a couple of days ago I got a call saying that I won,” Michal explained as all of the boys looked at Veronica. 

“What band is it?” She asked, anticipating his answer. 

Michael reached in his pocket to show her the ticket stub that reads My Chemical Romance & The Used; Reunion tour. November 4th at the Forum.

Her heart rate skyrocketed as she read the tickets four times to make sure she was reading it right, “W-We’re going to see My Chemical Romance and the Used?” She squealed as her cheeks hurt from smiling. 

Calum squeezed her thigh as they all nodded in unison, “Mhmm, Michael told me yesterday but I didn’t think you’d believe me so I asked him to join us on our date night to show you.” 

“I joined because Michael didn’t want to be the third wheel,” Luke explained with a smirk and Calum gave them both a look. 

“Thank you for not surprising me.” She cooed kissing Calums cheek softly. 

“I knew you’d be upset if I did.” He smiled as he squeezed her thigh. 

“See this is exactly why I’m here,” Luke remarked with a giggle as he drank his water. 

“Fuck off Luke, one more comment and I’m kicking you out.” He teased with a chuckle. 

“Ronnie will just let me stay in her guest room if you do!” Luke stated as he looked at the menu. 

Calum looked at her and she raised her eyebrows, “Of course I will, Lukey is always welcome at my house.” 

Calum cleared his throat before gripping her thigh, “Oh yeah?”

She gulped as his stare sent shivers down her spine, “Then again, Luke you can stay at Ashton’s.” 

“Fuck you guys!” Luke teased cueing them all to laugh, once the waiter returned they ordered food talking about the concert. 

___ 

She finished spraying hairspray on her freshly curled hair, she quickly unplugged her curling iron and set it on top of her hamper on the towels. She set her makeup with setting spray and closed her contacts case moments before she heard a knock on the bathroom door, “Almost done baby?”

“Yes! I’ll be out in a second.” She explained before flattening her dress and putting on her white heels and making sure she looked presentable for Ashton’s party. She slowly opened the door to see Calum leaning against the wall dressed in all red as his eyes glued to his phone.

She cleared her throat causing him to look at her, he looked her up and down and bit his bottom lip, “O-oh fuck.”

She quickly twirled, “What do you think?”

“You look, perfect angel,” He beamed as he stepped closer to her, putting his phone in his pocket so he could place his hands on her hips, “We could just have our own party here.” He smirked before kissing her lips softly.

“Oh yeah? Do you not want to go to Ashton’s party?” She asked, resting her hands on his chest.

“I do, I just prefer his friends seeing my smoking hot girlfriend in this outfit.” He winked, kissing her lips softly.

She smiled against his lips as her cheeks flushed, “We can stay as long as you want okay?”

“So we’ll be there half an hour, sounds good to me,’’ He chuckled, leading her towards her front door.

She giggled as she grabbed her clutch by the front door, “I at least need to see Luke.”

“Mhmm, we’ll see about that angel.” He winked opening her front door for her.

“We will, won’t we?” She teased as she grabbed her keys and locked the door.

His hand intertwined with his while they walked to his car, he quickly unlocked the door and opened it for her. She kissed his cheek moments before he helped her into his car. He closed the door behind her and ran to his side of the car and got in, he started the car as her hand rested on his thigh, she set up her phone and started playing music softly.

Her hand stayed on his thigh the entire drive to Ashton's house as she played her Halloween playlist softly in the background. As they pulled into the neighborhood they noticed Grayson and Luke’s car on the street. Calum quickly parked his car on the free spot he found a block away from Ashton’s house. He cut the engine and took his seatbelt off, “Wait for me baby.”

“Okay.” She smiled as she took off her seatbelt and grabbed her clutch, he got out of the car and closed his door before getting on her side and opening the door for her. He grabbed her hand and helped her out of the car, he closed the door and locked his car. “Thank you handsome.”

“Of course, beautiful.” He smiled, kissing her forehead before snaking his arm around her waist, she wrapped hers around his and rested her hand on his chest. He kissed the top of her head softly and she looked up at him and smiled.

Her phone vibrated in her clutch and she quickly checked to see who it was; Lule texted her to see where her and Calum were. She put her phone back in her purse. “Luke is looking for us.”

“Of course he is, he’s excited to see our couples costumes.” Calum expressed as he winked, when they got close to Ashton’s house they could hear the music blaring. Calum opened the door for Veronica letting her into the house.

(Calum POV)

Veronica hugged Luke as he admired their costumes, he looked around for Ashton and Grayson but didn’t see them anywhere. Luke dressed as a vampire because Veronica kept urging him to dress as  Louis from Interview With a Vampire, “Give me your phone, I need to take photos of you two.”

“Right here?” She asked nervously as she clung to him.

“Your right, there’s better lighting in the bathroom.” Luke explained as he motioned them to follow him.

They followed behind him towards Ashton’s bathroom as they weeded through the crowd of people. Luke quickly opened the bathroom door and let him in before shutting the door, “This is much better.”

She shook her head playfully at him as she reluctantly handed Luke her phone, “Are you okay with him taking pictures of us?”

“Of course I am,” He said with a smile as he pulled her closer while Luke started snapping pics.

She kissed his cheek and he flipped it around and kissed her cheek before staring in her eyes, “You're so perfect.”

She blushed and hid her face in his neck, “Calum!”

“Hey! I’m still taking pictures!” Luke giggled as he shook his head.

“C’mon baby, he can’t take pictures if the sexiest person isn't looking.” He complimented before softly giving her ass a smack.

She yelped before giving him a look he had memorized, “Calum I swear to god.”

“Ronnie, c'mon he’s almost done. Aren’t you Luke?” it was time for Calum to give Luke a look he had memorized. He nodded and Veronica hugged his waist and they took a couple more pictures before Luke handed Veronica her phone before they all left the bathroom. They walked towards the living room as he looked for Ashton.

Luke stayed with Veronica as Calum went to get him and Veronica something to drink, he grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with spiced rum and filled the other half of the cup with coke. He grabbed a bottle of water for himself and walked up to Luke and Veronica who were laughing at something, “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She smiled as she grabbed the cup and kissed his cheek. He scanned the room to see if Ashton was even inside of the house, he eyed tucker and rolled his eyes.

“Where is Ash? I see everyone but him.” He asked as he opened his bottle.

“I think he’s outside, should we go find him?” Luke asked and they both nodded as he grabbed Veronica’s hand and squeezed it tight as they weeded through the crowd.

The music welcomed them as they stepped outside and saw Ashton talking to Michael who was DJ’ing. They walked up to them and Ashton smiled when he saw them, “Wow look at you two!”

“Don’t they look great?” Luke gushed causing Veronica to blush and look at Calum.

“You do, I’ve never seen Calum dress up in a couples costume before.” Ashton mentioned as he sipped his drink.

Calum cleared his throat and Veronica gave him a look and smiled so big, “He picked tonight's outfit and for my party I picked our costumes.”

Ashton and Luke gave Calum a look and his eyes widened at them, ‘We’ll be there won’t we Luke?”

"Oh we definitely will.” Luke commented and she giggled as she sipped her drink.

Veronica attempted to dance but gave up until she finished her drink, Michael’s playlist was perfect according to her. Once she finished her drink she grabbed Calum’s hand and joined the crowd dancing. His hands found a home on her hips as she slowly grinded on him, causing him to grip her hips tightly as she continued to grind on him. It didn’t take long for her dancing to turn him on causing him to get hard underneath her which didn’t take long for her to notice, she pressed her ass on him as she grinded her ass on his ever growing boner. He softly smacked her ass, “What did I tell you about teasing me?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” She winked as she continued her movements causing him to groan in her ear.

He smacked her ass harder and growled, “Baby stop.”

“Make me.” She sassed and he stopped dancing with her and grabbed her hand before taking her inside leaving Luke and Ashton as he walked with her towards the guest bedroom.

 @pxrxmoore  @sublimehood @ghostoflrh @calumscalm @mellifluoushood @calumthomcs @twilightmomentswithyou @boytoynamedcalum @ohhmuke @calswildflower @highscal @sanrioluke @softlrh @flowers-on-the-graves @currentlyupcalsass @clemmings @highfivecalum @wastelandcth @himbocalum @feliznavidaddycal @icyicejuice @notinthesameguey @blackbutterfliescal @calumrose @tpwkatsumu

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.9

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all… Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.8k Announcement: This Chapter is dedicated to @w0lfqu33n​ who left some fire comments on the chapters, it makes me really happy and motivated to write. Especially considering everything that is happening in my life right now. 

[Part 1]  [Part 8] [Part 10] [Tag Yourself Here]

At some point the Adrenaline in your system had crashed, exhaustion taking over, your body falling limp in Jungkook’s arms. He took the towel you kept hanging over the shower stall and wrapped you securely in it. Carrying your smaller form and laying you onto the long wooden seat while he dressed. Not wanting your brother to have an actual stroke at the idea that you had showered together. Scooping you back into his arms he let you rest your head against his chest, your hair dampening his shirt. Strawberries and cream. A scent he couldn’t forget. 

Walking your limp form back into the room, telling Yoongi to move off the sofa. Jungkook didn’t speak, his priority was to gently lay you down and cover you with a blanket. Stalling for time as he searched for the right way to explain what happened. But now that he had time to process he realised you hadn’t told him anything. 

“She is fine, it was a bad chemical burn and so she had to wash it off but passed out, luckily I was in a towel, the redness and the rash-like reaction is gone” Jungkook rubbed his arm thinking over his words. “she didn’t tell me anything else”

Unaware they had been concerned until the tension in their muscles unwound slowly. It was like they had been so distracted by the situation they didn’t know their bodies had become so tense. And seeing you sleeping mostly unharmed and peaceful eased their worries. They followed your lead, wall to wall, the room filled with bodies lounging and sleeping peacefully. 

Waking with a start, there was gunfire upstairs. Areum was crying saying the boys had gone to check but hadn’t returned. You ducked out from the room telling her you were going to the bathroom to grab your weapon. Opening the door you peeked out, the silence feeling heavy like the calm before a storm. 

As quickly as you could you got to the bathroom, you had to retrieve the gun off the ledge. Standing up on the toilet you reached up, your hand barely able to brush the weapon. Painstakingly pulling it closer with the pads of your fingers. You jumped down gliding briskly to the door. Nervous you stopped your hand on the handle. It was like a checkpoint in a game, you knew something was about to happen. Your breathing became heavy and your vision distorted slightly. 

Unable to take the growing stress that was caused by the unknown you ripped the door back and sprinted for the storage room. Behind you, you heard Jimin’s voice and a loud clattering down the stairs. Looking over your shoulder. This had to be a sick joke. Jimin was flanked by your brother and his band members. They all ran getting dragged and pulled by what looked like previous BigHit members but were now the undead. You cocked the gun and told them to keep running, there was nowhere to shoot that wasn’t them. 

Heart shaking with fear as you watched Seokjin fall, he screamed at them to keep running before he was unable to make a sound. He was the first one to get to know you, the first to be there for you and he had kissed you. Hot tears fell down your cheeks. Namjoon turned after he heard the eldest stop yelling and tripped. You wanted to shout for him to get up but your mouth was sealed shut. He tried looking like he was in pain. Yoongi stopped running purposefully trying to give him time to get up and keep moving. He gave you a small sad smile before he closed his eyes looking almost peaceful. 

You watched him get torn apart. Namjoon was taken as well, too stunned and horrified, unable to get up off the floor. Jungkook pushed Hoseok ahead and started to fight back. He was holding up pretty well against them but when he was faced with Namjoon, Yoongi and Seokjin he couldn’t bring himself to hurt them and instead let them rip him limb from limb.

The hallway seemed so long and yet so short, as they were closing in on you. Taehyung was crying audibly, Jimin holding his hand pulling him along but felt a tug. Taehyung’s screams had broken him. Jimin saw his best friend and soulmate caught by the hair, sharp teeth shredding the flesh of his neck. Taehyung’s mouth fell open as he almost collapsed, hands grabbing at him. Taehyung tried to let go but Jimin wouldn’t give up. Stepping towards his tall best friend Jimin wrapped his arms around him holding Taehyung up while he too was attacked. He stood firm holding in his screams comforting Taehyung with his most pained smile, as the two were mauled before your eyes.

Hoseok and your brother were closing in but so were these creatures. You couldn’t take anymore, they were running and dodging with all the grace and strength of dancers. You aimed the gun taking out one of the undead getting a little too close to your brother. Hoseok reached you first. Noticing your brother struggling he took the gun and stepped out, shooting the oncoming crowd helping your brother get free and run towards the room. The numbers were decreasing until the gun made a barely audible clack. No more bullets.

Hoseok smacked one of those monsters in the head and ran but your brother pulled you into the room. “He isn’t going to make it.” Fighting the older male trying to get the door to stay open long enough for Hoseok to enter. “He has been exposed to the gas, it turns you.”

Looking back you noticed Hoseok was no longer running from them, but with them. The door shut, ignoring him and the other boys calling your name. Crying head pressed against the door hands pressed to your ears as you tried to stop hearing them call you. 

You couldn’t save them. Areum shouted your name concerned, you turned to see her on the ground trying to hold off your brother who had his teeth embedded in her arm. Had you really not managed to save any of them.

“Y/n?” They called and you tried to hold it together, the foreboding feeling overwhelmed you.  “I got this” You brother turned to you, eyes as red as the blood on his face and shouted “Y/n!”

Struck across the cheek you jolted yourself, backing up against the arm of the couch panting and looking around in fear. They all jumped back at your reaction each showing concern and looking so beautifully healthy and human. 

It was a nightmare, just some shitty apocalypse-themed movie in your mind, tears of relief poured from your eyes as you grabbed the nearest being. Hugging Yoongi around the waist, burying your face against his soft lumpy old man cardigan. He laughed “what did I die?”

“You all did, you were turned into Zombies!” “Hey zombies aren’t real” Jimin laughed  “Tell us what happened, you will realise how silly it sounds and then you will feel better,” Namjoon said you told them what happened and they seemed to laugh. 

“Why did I die, you think I wouldn’t  punch my zombie friends” Jungkook scoffed “I don’t get it, Joonie you will trip and get yourself killed, but why was I first to die” “The funny one always dies first” Areum laughed. It was a nervous sound as she made awkward eye contact with your brother. 

“Tell us, what happened?”  “That was it, I told you?” “Not the dream out there, where did you go?” “I went to get more supplies”  “Tell us what happened?” Namjoon said, 

“I went out to get some supplies at the hospital. I came back and there were people out of the street, just like last time, I had to turn off my breather or they would find me. There is no way to see more than a foot in front of you so you have to move quietly as silently as one could in a full-body hazmat suit, but as I went I almost ran directly into another man, his back was to me and his breather was loud. I hit him across the back of the head and took his gun”

“Gun!” “That’s why you walked in the bathroom with it yesterday” Jungkook pointed and you nodded  “This company sees me as expendable, that gun is my only form of protection”  “Why did they need more supplies?” Areum asked curiously, but you were clueless shrugging. 

Areum left heading to the bathroom, she said it was almost time for her to get to work. Your brother left saying he had gotten a text from his students they were apparently scared. One of his pupils had apparently started to have a breakdown. So he told them all to head to the dance studio and he would watch over them while they slept. 

The silence fell, making Yoongi groan, the sound vibrating his torso deeply, and you felt a tiny twinge between your legs in response. “Let me sit” Yoongi tapped your shoulder with his long fingers. Loosening your grip, he sat on the couch and pulled your legs over his lap so you could lean back on the arm of the chair. 

“I won’t die,” Jungkook said, “I would protect you with my life but I won’t let myself die, the only person I would let kill me would be you?” He flashed you a bunny smile, his ears turning red. 

They each laid back down and started to drift back to sleep, you pretended but you were afraid you would return to that nightmare. A tap on your knee brought you to the present. 

“I am going to go to my studio, get some more rest” Yoongi stared at your knee and then patted it listing your legs standing and placed them back down. He was leaning over you tucking you in and he held your chin pressing his lips to yours surprisingly slowly. Slip. The way your lips instinctively parted had you met with a smirk as he teasingly brushed his tongue against yours. He was playing beautiful symphonies in your mouth. Before you could react he left. Without a sound. That man could easily be mistaken as a ghost with how quiet he moves.

“What!” You slapped your hand over your mouth in shock. That bastard seriously just kissed you and then ditched. Who does that sly piece of shit think he is? You were confused what did the kiss mean? At least Seokjin gave some speech about being denied physical affection or something, so you were willing to overlook that kiss. But this one was just out of nowhere with no explanation. Maybe he too felt like he was going crazy without physical affection. BigHit needed to do something, these boys were pent up and luckily you were in the right mind frame to understand it meant nothing they were just trying to relieve some stress.

No cap though, kissing both Seokjin and Yoongi was low-key fire. You felt your walls slowly slip a little more. It seems whether you liked it or not the Bangtan boys had ways to sneak back into your heart.

[Part 1]  [Part 8]  [Part 10]  [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags:  @bubbletae7​ @lovemusicandotps​ @taetaeb @seveniefive​ @w0lfqu33n​ @anaiss97​ @moccahobi​ @maddymal​ @lilacdreams-00​

[mychemicalficrecs]

anything with a similar to magic!verse? thank you so much for this blog

You're welcome, nonnie!

I haven’t read this fic, but based on tags and summaries I hope this comes close?

Modern Days Fantasy and Magic

MagicVerse by jovialien, Frank/Gerard, 256k, mostly Teen And Up Audiences. The Way brothers, and Ray, and Bob, are special but they don't really notice it that much; it's just their lives. Frank Iero is not special. At all. He's different, yes, he knows that. Everyone at his old school knows that. Everyone in his old town knows that. Every fucking jock and wise guy who was after a bit of a distraction or punching bag knows he is different and tried to punish him for it. But at least it was enough to get him out of that dump and into a new town, a new school, and maybe a new start. But when he meets Gerard Way, he starts to learn that different isn't always a bad thing - and special is a term that covers an awful lot.

More Than You Could Ever Know by mokuyoubi, Frank/Gerard and a few others, 58k, Explicit. Frank's been saying he's saving himself for Gerard Way for years, and discovering that his new house/bandmate is actually friends with Gerard should make things easier. But it's bad enough that Gerard remembers Frank as that one freakish, stalkery fan that followed them from venue to venue, not to mention the fact that it's hard to make any progress when everything that comes out of Frank's mouth makes him sound like a giant asshole. Oh, and how Frank's trying to keep his stupid elf magic from outing himself and Brendon to a national audience. Featuring Panic! as a fivepiece, My Chemical Romance (where Bob's still around) +Matt.

burned, about to burn, or still on fire by inlovewithnight, Gabe/Mikey, Gabe/Pete, Mikey/Pete and more, 25k, Mature. Sex, drugs, rock & roll, psychic abilities, and a few shapeshifting dragons. (Or: Gabe is a dragon, Pete is his treasure, and Mikey is a pyrokinetic who lights his fire. From New Jersey pop-punk to rehab and starting over, they orbit each other.)

Mythical Affairs by vampirexchild, Frank/Gerard, 55k, Explicit. Frank Iero has always had the strange ability of being able to sew up his own wounds without stitches, heal a broken animal with a single touch. Once he is introduced to the brother of his best friend, he may finally discover that he isn't the only human to posses an incredible power.

Give Me A Reason To Believe (Failboats In Love) by Acadjonne, Frank/Mikey, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. On the night of October 31st, Linda and Frank Iero welcome a baby boy into their family. He weighs six pounds, four ounces, and is nineteen inches long. They give him a family name, and he becomes the third Iero man to bear the name of Frank. A year later, on All Hallow's Eve, a sleeping baby is taken from his crib and replaced with a fake. The babe will later be taken from the hands of the goblin that stole him, and he will be raised by two rowan treefolk, a house brownie, and some pixies. ----- When Ray walks down the stairs to the Way family basement, the last thing Mikey expects to see is a scrappy and long-haired form following behind him. But as he later finds out, Frank is almost always unexpected in the best of ways, the rest of the world be damned.

Saving Witches? Hunting things? The Family Curse? by Honestmouse, Frank/Gerard, 104k, Not Rated. Finally, life is getting good. After the hell they went through so soon after they met, they deserved this. This happiness. It's all going so well. They're both surprised by it honestly, but not willing to question it. Who cares if Gerard is still a little( kinda a lot) over protective of Frank. Who cares if they are so in love that after only a few short months they're moving in together. Frank is completely safe, he knows this. If only he could convince Gerard of that.

The Plant Shop by moss_and_rocks, Frank/Gerard, 16k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Based in a universe in which Wicca is the most dominant religion. Frank Iero is a chubby ray of sunshine who owns a plant shop. Gerard Way is an artist/barista who wants to buy a plant. Flirting and very unique dating rituals ensue.

My Boyfriend's a Vampire by dangsu, Frank/Gerard, 19k, Mature. Frank Iero is intrigued by the raven-haired boy that smiles with his lips but frowns with his eyes. ~ Or how Frank Iero scores a vampire boyfriend.

Frank Iero & the Elementali by xcrossxoutxstarsx, Frank/Gerard, 29k [WIP], Explicit. All Frank wanted was to live his life. Not necessarily a normal life, because he wanted to be a musician, the kind of musician who has a band and goes on tour all over the world, plays his music in front of thousands of people and maybe, just maybe, finds someone to share his life with until the day he dies. But of course, that’s exactly what didn’t happen. Apparently, the universe decided that was either too much to ask or too lame of a goal for him to accomplish, because somehow he ended up being miles and miles underneath New Jersey, trying to understand what the hell is wrong with him and what the fuck did he do to deserve all that’s happened since Gerard Way appeared in his life. Don’t take me wrong, I love the guy. But God, I wish he hadn’t come into the shop that day. Maybe things would be a little bit normal still.

Hocus Pocus AU by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 19k, Teen And Up Audiences. Hocus Pocus AU. Frank's new in town, and his new best friends think it'd be awesome to check out the old Way Cottage on Halloween. Frank thinks it'll be the best birthday ever. What he gets is two eighteenth century witches and a lot of strange situations.

Stairway to Heaven by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Grant/Gerard, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Father Way accidentally taps into the memories of an angel, and stumbles into the middle of a millennia-long doomed romance.

If You Go Down To the Woods Today... by SaskiaK, Frank/Gerard, 25k, Mature. The guys are sure of a big surprise when they discover the secrets of a cursed forest, the setting of their new video shoot

Me and My Shadow by SaskiaK, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frankie is a trainee fairy godfather. Gerard is a struggling artist with low self-esteem who happens to be Frankie's first client. Frankie really only wants to help but when Gerard is accidentally separated from his shadow, he can only watch as it enjoys the life he always wanted. When he finally realises his shadow is taking over, will he be able to regain control over it and his life?

Kiss The Bottle by cellphonecharm_au, Frank/Gerard, 36k, Explicit. A drunk wizard slips Frank a love potion while the band is in between tour dates. Chaos and mischief ensues.

By Fate Alone by DrGraves, Gen, 37k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. ...ultimately, there was no answer until whatever was going to happen, did. The future was still an uncertain wasteland, and they were peering through time with a lens the size of a pinhole. Even though his brother has the uncanny ability to see forward in time, Mikey Way's future is still uncertain. After Gerard has a vision of Mikey's untimely death, the race is on to save Mikey from his fate. Fate, it seems, has her work cut out for her.

Inked by pyrchance, Frank/Gerard, 28k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has always wanted a tattoo. He's pretty sure seducing the witch lurking behind the band room is the only way to get one.

[veridium]

fake happy

Well, whaddya know! The College AU is back, baby! Unfortunately June was pretty much hell in a handbasket, so writing took a backseat. But, we are far from done. Thank you to everyone for sighting tight, and to @bitchesofostwick for being a very patient co-author. 

So, where were we? Ah, yes, the holiday weekend from hell. On with the show! Title bought to you by a great Paramore song.

masterpost // last chapter

--

“Hey baby cakes!”

The moment she hears the shrill greeting whilst getting out of her car in the sandstone-colored driveway, Olivia knows she’s in a chapter of Dante’s Inferno. All the calmness she had with Ellinor earlier that day is gone; it is easier said than done enduring four days in the house of Paula Sinclair.

“Hey,” she rushes over her shoulder, pulling the side lever to release the trunk where her bags are kept. Just two, one of clothes and toiletries and the other books and supplies to do assignments. She’ll need the preoccupation as an excuse for the gauntlet of trials her Mom will invite her to.

As she’s filing her luggage out onto the driveway, she sees her Mom’s shadow approaching. She glances and sees her in all her glory: an olive green sundress with one of those straw pool hats. She was probably out basking in the sun all afternoon before this. Olivia is surprised she thought to put down whatever spiked beverage she must have had with her to come outside and greet her only child. 

“Did you have a safe drive? You certainly did not rush to get home safe,” Paula says, halting and crossing her arms. 

Olivia slams the trunk closed and huffs, slinging one bag’s strap over her shoulder and the other on her opposite forearm. “I woke up late, and had to help Ellinor pack.” Sorry, Ellinor. 

“Ellinor! I will miss her this year.” A lie said out of convenience. The whole time Ellinor stays with them, Paula shoots her peculiar questions about her personal life or her political views. Ellinor knows better now after these last couple of years how to play them off, but Paula can’t help but size people up. It’s how she cultivates all her complaints.

“I will, too,” Olivia lets out as she makes her way to the front door, past the splendorous potted plants and fake green grass turf. Her Mother saunters behind her through the open door. 

Once inside Olivia notices what’s missing, and sets her smaller bag down. 

“Wh--”

“No no, do not just leave that there! Take it to the mud room or your bedroom.”

Olivia bites back a groan and turns around to face Paula as she shuts and locks the large-ass, gaudy-ass front door. “Fine. Where is Nemo?”

“Nemo?”

“...the dog, Mother.”

“Nemo! Oh, psh,” she waves her acrylics. “He is off in the yard. I kept him outside because the carpet steamers came this morning. You know how his muddy little paws are! Now, do I not get a hug?”

Olivia tenses up from head to toe, seeing her Mother coming in for the hug she didn’t wait for permission for. At least Nemo isn’t mysteriously gone -- she’s read too many horror stories online of people’s parents being complete monsters about their old family pets dying, and not telling the children who live elsewhere -- but Paula keeps Nemo out in the yard for days at a time when she gets the carpets cleaned. He will need company, and not just the husband going out and practicing his golf swing adjacent to him. 

Oh, right, there’s a husband around here.

Paula hugs her with her arms draped over Olivia’s shoulders, rather than around her waist like a good bear hug. Something Dad would know how to do.

“I imagine Fred is off shooting, stuffing, or smoking something,” she mutters over her Mother’s shoulder, to which Paula gently swats at her shoulder and guffaws. 

“No, silly! He’s in the yard with Nemo, your fellow prisoner,” she teases, picking up on Olivia’s dread with her trademark passive aggression. Only three minutes in the door, a new record. 

“I didn’t say he couldn’t do those things out in the yard.” Lord knows he has before. 

“Where do you think our holiday meal comes from every year?” 

“COSTCO, like God and Uncle Sam intended, right?”

“Ugh, Olivia, your humor changes every year you’re at that College. Don’t be so morose.”

She takes a breath and picks up her eyesore of a bag so that it does not further desecrate the sanctity of the foyer, and makes for the curved staircase just across the pristine hardwood. “I’m just tired from the drive, Mom. I’m going to go upstairs and get settled.”

“Okay, and come downstairs soon! I wanna catch up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

She glances behind her but her Mother is already vanished. Sure, catch up, but not too quick! Releasing her bated breath she lurches up the rest of the stairs. The place is heavily renovated from the home it originally was when her parents bought it. In the beginning they didn’t have much -- well, much compared to what Paula has now -- and so their first nest was a fixer upper. Year after year, corny wallpaper became fresh painted walls, and thick upholstered couches handed down from in-laws became brand new installations from the boutiques downtown. Two additions to the place upgraded it from a modest family home to a wannabe mansion. Olivia grew up in this ever-changing little kingdom of improvements, but only when she was a newly-minted adult did she realize she was one of its fixtures.

The one comfort had always been that her Father dwelled there with her. He brought heart and humanity to the kingdom of objects: his muddy shoes by the front door, not the “mud room.” His fishing rods hung up on the garage rack. His barbeque out in the yard. They weren’t all state-of-the-art, but they were his. But, by now, they, too, were all gone. ‘Improvements’ in every stead, including his.  

Olivia had one sacrosanct place left, and that was her childhood room. Walking down the hall decorated with big, framed portraits of the family -- none of her Father, though, to be sure -- she found her door, the second one to the right in the west hallway. “West” being the original upstairs hallway, the only hallway, before construction added the one referred to as the “East.” She pushed the ajar door open and slid in to see it as she remembered: the bright lavender purple walls strewn with posters, pictures, and a tapestry up behind her bed. The pearly purple carpet smelled of the carpet cleaner, but it did not mask the smell of vanilla she expected. On the opposite wall from the door, her princess bed complete with ivory white canopy was freshly made. Her bedspread was white, with pillows in alternating shades of green and lilac. Years ago she fought endlessly for her Mother to let her paint her room a darker color than the baby pink it was first. Thanks to her Dad, they “compromised” with purple. Sadly, Paula took that as “the lightest shades of purple” and so it was.

In the details, though, there was Olivia’s rebellion. The posters, Paramore, My Chemical Romance, and an old one from a Sheryl Crow concert she found on Amazon, contrasted the brightness with a grit. To the left by her small balcony doors, her vanity mirror and stool were covered with polaroid pictures, concert tickets, movie ticket stubs, and bracelets. She had taken all of her incriminating, “immodest” makeup with her to college, so all that remained were an old bottle of sunscreen, some pastel eyeshadow palettes, and lip glosses. So many lip glosses. 

Olivia dropped her shit in the middle of the floor and made for the reading chair in the far corner, where she collapsed into a curled, reticent ball of conflicted emotions. She predicted this -- she dreaded this -- and now, here she is. The first day is always a test of anxiety, more so than enduring mistreatment. Paula is always good on the first day -- great, sometimes. She is generous, and outgoing, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. The grueling part comes after the first night ends and she realizes she has to do something with her daughter who isn’t just in for dinner and giggling. That’s when she remembers how she actually feels, and who she actually is. And with no one like Ellinor to buffer and provide excuses for her not standing in one place for too long, it’ll be particularly concentrated. 

She slides limply against the plush chair and closes her eyes. It was a stressful drive full of hasty college kids getting home to their more harmonious families. Olivia was in no rush, though. Three trips through various drive thrus surely added time.

Her phone goes off, and she slips her phone out of her back jean pocket. 

Ellinor: You ready to walk the plank yet?

Smirking, Olivia replies: 

-- I am already keeling over the edge. How is your family?

Ellinor: I nearly did a drop and roll out of Lyssa’s car on the way here, but they’re bearable. They are who they usually are. No surprises, this holiday season! 

-- One of these years we’ll be successful enough to buy everyone therapy for Christmas. 

Ellinor: No shit, I’m making them pay for mine first. 

Olivia is replying when another notification comes up, an instagram like this time, from Maryden. Grinning she taps on it. Maryden finally saw the group pic they all took at the fair: her, Ellinor, Cullen, and then Olivia and Cass in the bottom corner. Olivia had made Cass hold the phone due to height advantage. Her grin expands before it sinks fast. 

Ah, fuck. 

She pulls up her messages again and sees the one Cassandra sent her while she was driving and unable to check. 

Cassandra: Text me when you arrive safe. ❤️

The heart emoji. Olivia’s cheeks turn hot, and she hastily types. 

-- Here in purgatory! 

The sound of a man shouting something, and then laughing, rings from the balcony windows. Fred must be huffing and puffing about something amusing, like meat or guns. She can’t wait for all his odd comments and attempts to “relate” that almost always devolve into him talking about whatever season of sport he’s onto and her nodding along. Poor man. He makes sea sponges seem like sophists. 

Soon after sending, Cassandra replies, an opportunity Olivia doesn’t predict: 

Cassandra: Awesome. my Uncle has stopped us for gas, still about 40 minutes out. 

-- That’s good. Hopefully you won’t get stuck in rush hour. 

Cassandra: My Uncle sucks at navigating traffic, so I wouldn’t bet on it. 

-- Lol

Cassandra: You alright? 

Olivia is sort of surprised by the question and its sensitivity, albeit direct. 

-- Just tired from the drive, that’s all 

Cassandra: You love driving. You would drive the entire stretch of the coast highway without blinking once.

Damn, Cassandra. A bold insight. A correct one, too. 

-- 🤷🏼‍♀️

Five seconds after she hits send, Cassandra calls her. She nearly drops the phone on the floor, and her slack posture goes full vertical. She checks that the door is closed, only to decide to leap, rush, and lock it just in case. Then she hurries to the farthest corner of the room and hits answer right on the last ring. 

“No, Detective, I will not submit to the polygraph.”

Cassandra’s voice rings almost playfully. “Very well, we have other ways of making you talk.”

There’s the hot blush again. “Uh, a-alright, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” She hushes a bit, and hopes Cassandra doesn’t notice. 

“Nothing! My Uncle is in the gas station doing who-knows-what, so I’m stuck in here, boot and all.”

“I’m not kidding, I saw that Liam Neeson movie, I know how this goes. I have a special set of skills--”

“What do I have to do? Express my distaste for something? Quote Plato?”

“...It would be reassuring.”

Cassandra laughs coyly, and despite everything, it livens her spirit. She didn’t expect Cassandra to be in so playful a mood traveling back home. She was cool but unhappy about it that morning when they parted ways, entertained only by Olivia’s presence and a strong cup of coffee. Without the ability to drive due to her ankle, her illustrious but mysterious Uncle had to be the one to pick her up and take her back to her family. 

“I was just calling to check in on you.”

“I thought that was what the texting was for,” Olivia replies more curtly than she intends. She gnaws at her bottom lip.

“Sometimes it is worth the extra effort to call.”

“That is very un-millenial of you, you know. Horrifying.”

“Maybe so. Ugh, what is that man doing?” there’s sounds of Cassandra rustling against the leather seat, probably checking in through the window. “Probably searching for that expensive jerky he gets at Trader Joe’s like it will just magically turn up at an ARCO.”

“Who’s to say it won’t? People of all walks of life can enjoy finer things.”

“Yes, but not just the ‘finer’ things,” she then huffs. “Look, I don’t have much time, so if you aren’t in the mood to talk about what is bothering you, I can let you go and we can talk later.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to. My Mom wants to ‘catch up,’ which in her language means I get a hundred questions and the occasional asinine one from Fred.”

“Fred’s your stepfather, right?”

“He’s...my Mother’s husband.”

“I see.”

She mulls her teeth and looks around aimlessly. Cassandra goes ‘hm’ but nothing else. 

“How are you able to talk so much?” Olivia asks, diverting the subject. “Aren’t you worried your family will pry?”

“The good thing about holidays in my family is there are so many people around, you can get a great deal of private time if you are smart enough. Which is exactly what I intend to do. Ugh...he...oh, sorry. I thought my Uncle was coming back, but it was just another man.”

“Yeah, but you said they have superhuman abilities for nosiness.”

“They do. And I have superhuman talents of evasion. They’ll peck and prod about the ankle boot, though. Usually I can slip away to the gym or for a run to get away from them but...of course...can’t do that. Doctors don’t trust me to set foot in a weight room and it’s been weeks since my injury.”

“Cass, it’s been two weeks, almost precisely.”

“I said weeks, didn’t I? Look, overextending is not the same as knowing my limits. They’re the medical professionals, but they don’t live in this body 24/7.”

Olivia grimaces with sympathy, though she can’t say she agrees given how easy it is for Cassandra to throw herself into things without caution. “Uh huh.”

“Ugh, forgive me. I won’t be able to talk everyday, but I would like to try sometimes, okay? I promise it won’t all be about my messed up ankle.”

Olivia smirks. “You’re being very…”

“Very…what?”

Olivia stalls. Is it an asshole thing to do, saying your girlfriend is being more sensitive and caring than usual? Maybe not “more,” but in a different way. An unusual way. She could have really taken Olivia’s hurt feelings over how she acted about her injury. She could be really trying. But now, in the lion’s den, Olivia’s unsure about whether the timing of it is...well, ideal. 

“Nevermind, I lost my train of thought,” she excuses. “I appreciate you.”

“It’s no trouble. Now, I think my Uncle is coming back. Ugh, he got a whole bag of things...probably for me. Seeing me with my boot triggered his overprotective nerve extra hard.”

“Oh, no, sour patch kids! The torture!” Olivia teases. An ounce of her regular self bleeds through. 

“Very funny. I will text you later. Be safe, alright?”

“Alright. You, too.” She then remembers and slips it in before they hang up: “L-let me know when you get home, too, okay?”

“...O-okay.” There’s a pause, the kind of awkward pause when the thing you say -- the particular thing -- happens. But since they aren’t there yet, it’s full of pause and anxiety. 

“Okay,” Olivia takes her turn to smooth it over. “Bye!”

“Bye.”

Hanging up kills the feeling of safety. She looks into the big oval mirror at her dresser vanity and watches her grin crack, then disappear all-together. The scene in her reflected surroundings loses its luster. Even with all the impossibilities, she kind of wishes Cassandra was with her. It almost makes her laugh at herself: what, would she have driven up with her in the passenger’s seat, hear “hey baby cakes!” and smile, saying “hey Mom, here’s my girlfriend! You’re suddenly not biphobic, right? Oh and by the way she’s a Pentaghast, so, there’s that!” and they all retire to the sitting room for tea and introductions. Right. 

She turns and sees her unpacked bags, her only company. She rubs her forehead slowly with the back of her hand. She has experience being left to her own devices with her Mother. Hell, she has a lifetime of it with her. A long weekend won’t be anything particularly gruesome, and if it is, well, she’s survived them before.  

Fifteen minutes later she has everything organized and put away -- she won’t unpack much, anyway. A quick change into some leggings and a t-shirt, a toss of her hair into a ponytail, and she’s ready to face the music. She’s careful to shut her bedroom door before she descends down the hall and the stairs, betting that her Mother is out in the yard on one of the lounge chairs. She finds her there, indeed lounging, with that missing cocktail restored to her.

Unmoved but always observant, her Mother inquires: “Settled in?” 

Olivia puts on her best polite grin and sits down on the lounge chair five feet away. On the grass, Fred is dressed in pastel blue polo and cargo shorts like the overgrown fraternity pledge he is, throwing a frisbee for Nemo. Nemo, the 10 year old yellow lab, who can scarcely go up the stairs without being winded these days. Too bad for Fred the minute Olivia shows herself, the grey-faced dog bounds in his own way over to the long last playmate.

“Nemo! You little prince!” she smiles, crouching down to embrace him. His tail is wagging a million miles per hour, and he fills her face with old dog breath. His tickling gets her to finally laugh. 

“Good grief,” she hears her Mom say, “Olivia, don’t let him lick your mouth!”

“I’m fine!” she says through her giggles, rubbing his chest and back as she stands upright. “It won’t kill me.”

“Ugh.”

That joy was short lived. She returns to the chair she chose and does her best to make as little eye contact as possible as she sits and sprawls her legs out. Nemo follows circles around her, tail still going.

“Do we know what the plans are for Thanksgiving?” Olivia asks, expecting the same answer as always. Dinner at home with Fred’s relatives and those in Mom’s family who she isn’t on the outs with, all above the age of 35 for the most part, and vote like it. Another dinner she’ll have to dress way too modestly and matronly for her age in order to fit in for the group photo.

“Well, that is what I wanted to surprise you with,” Paula answers. 

Olivia side-eyes her Mom, and delays opening up her phone to scroll through Twitter. “What?”

“We will be having dinner with the family as always, but earlier this week we received a surprise invitation for us to attend a holiday party later on this weekend.”

“You aren’t going to spend the holiday campaigning, are you?” 

“‘Campaigning’ has a broad definition, Olivia, and it is never a bad idea to become more familiar with one’s community constituents.”

Olivia frowns and resumes scrolling. Great, likely another fundraiser or gala, not something substantially humble like volunteering time with those genuinely in need, who are also her “constituents.” She saved the label for those she could depend on to write a donation check -- the other 80% of society barely existed. 

“I assume then you are expecting me to go?”

There’s a sound of Paula’s magazine of choice turning a page. “What do you think the surprise was?”

“That as much as you would like me to come, that you respect my choice not to so that I can have a quiet, restful weekend at home before Finals are in full swing?”

No response for going out on that limb. The proverbial crickets chirp, and Olivia knows her point was deliberately missed. 

“Or,” she corrects herself, “that you want me to go.”

“Yes, silly girl. And for your information, even if I didn’t want you to come, the invitation specifically noted you.”

“P-pardon me?” She looks up.

Paula shakes her head and smiles. “When were you going to tell me you were making friends with the Pentaghast family?”

“I...I-I’m not!”

“You must be, there was a handwritten note in the card, your name and all.”

Olivia can feel a stroke coming on. The heat of the day now feels like a vise around her throat, a semi-truck on her chest. She jerks up and turns to look at her Mother dead on, who is still flipping through her latest issue of Vogue, sunglasses and sunhat and all. 

“So...so they wrote me in? Me, specifically?”

“Yes, that is what I said! Goodness, calm down, you’ll give yourself a heat stroke.” 

Too late. “Why? Aren’t they one of the big blue families? Why would they want to invite y--”

“Are you insinuating that I do not belong in a bipartisan space? Olivia, I work in one for a living. This whole business of networking is par for the course. In fact, it is a long time coming. The Pentaghasts should be taking the ‘other side’ more seriously. I have been in this town’s political realm for seven years, now. They cannot always hide behind their old money and liberal hypocrisy of “inclusion.””

There is that rhetorical savvy and venom. Quintessentially Paula. Olivia falls back on the lounge chair and stares out into the lawn, mouth open and words lost. Where to begin? Hey, Mom, don’t think so highly of yourself, they’re only inviting you to get to me! Because they want to sniff me out as one of their many daughters’ lovers! You’re full of shit!

“Do I have to go? I am serious about wanting rest. This semester has been a lot, an--”

“A semester that I paid for,” Paula cut in, turning yet another page. “It is restful to be with your family. You should consider yourself lucky, Olivia, that spending time with us is so comfortable. You have this nice home to come back to, and good people to spend time with, and beautiful parties to go to. A girl your age in a lesser position would claw someone’s eyes out for the chance to live the life you get to. Is it so really so demanding?”

The shots to the gut have started early. So much for the easy first day. She wishes even more she could pop her Mother’s balloon, but it would mean ultimate disaster for her in the end. Out in the open Fred is still trying to get Nemo to chase the damn frisbee, clearly aware that he should stay away from the two debating blondes. Olivia rolls her lips shut and tries her hardest to swallow the hunk of pride at the back of her throat, but there’s no room in her stomach. It’s completely filled to the top with anxiety about what it means to be going to this party. 

Then it hits her: Cassandra is going to shoot through the roof. 

“Fine, Mom. I’ll go.” The clock then starts ticking for her to find a covert way out of it beforehand. She’s dove deep into her head, and only catches half of her Mother’s pleased response. 

“--something classy, the party is black tie optional.”

“Okay.”

“I also have an appointment for us to get our nails done tomorrow at 11, so do not sleep in too much.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. She does another fake smile as she pulls up her messages on her phone in order to deploy the distress signal: 

-- Change of plan, I need you to call me as soon as you are able. Your family sent an invitation to mine for their big party this weekend. My Mom is insisting we go. Code red. 

[the-colours-of-music]

The Colours of Music - Ep.4

The Sharpiest Lives - My Chemical Romance

*English is not my first language, so I do hope whoever reading this can understand me.*

**My favourite MCR song btw. This song deserves more love.**

***For more accurate visual of the colours, look at my pin post.***

The intro creeps in with bright, flashing white light on a dark background. Gerard's voice soon replaces the flashing light with clouds and clouds of emerald green smoke. I find this a little odd as I was expecting a darker colour. The whisper along to Gerard's voice in the background is of a blue-grey colour, also in the form of clouds of smoke but smaller.

His voice becomes clearer as midnight blue coloured canon balls shoot out from the darkness of the background, smashing and crashing into a dim fire of the background vocal, which is of the colour coral orange.

"...the boys in the band" is where the fire bursts into a burgundy red mess which is now the colour of the background. Gerard's voice has turned into a powder blue glob and started to crawl on the red wall like some kind of vines, or like Venom in Spiderman (which is more accurate but I honestly don't know how to describe this well).

The vines/Venom-like thing becomes a ball of paint before the beginning of the chorus and as the chorus hits, the paint ball pops, all the drops of paint turn into a indigo colour, falling down in front of a background that has soften to the colour of fire brick.

The chorus ends and there's a puddle of indigo on the red floor. The female voice splashes a spurt of lemonchiffon yellow on the background but it quickly dissolves in small bubbles.

The second verse starts. The puddle slowly turns into green and grows in amount, then starts flowing like a small river on the darkened background. The colour of the river changes like it's on the colour spectrum, from green to yellow, and from yellow to red.

To the pre-chorus, the red meets a cliff and falls dowm like a waterfall, and turns into a dark shade of lavender.

At "...shot to remember!", there's a wave crashing into me and the water is now of a golden colour. Droplets of water rains down and shifts into golden glitter, almost like a starry night in an open space without artificial lights.

After "...a sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead", some of the glitter explodes into small, yellow bursts, lighting up the black background.

The "OW!" is the biggest explosion and is of a burning orange-red colour. We are getting to the intrumental part. The drum is cerulean, and the guitar sounds like antique white, which is unusual 'cause most guitar part are of stronger, darker colours. But it does stand out on the dark background. The drum looks like bouncy balls falls dowm from above and the guitar is a string that loops around, sometimes catching a bouncy ball or two.

Again at "...a shot to remember!", something cool happens. Dark red splashes across my vision like blood from a slashed neck. Behind the red, bright light green cracks randomly before bursting into tiny explosions. The chorus goes on as the red drips down like paint, or blood, slowly covering the green and the dark background. As the chorus ends for real, the red becomes a whirlpool and gradually drains away, before everything turns black. The song is finished.