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cheolism-archive · 8 months ago

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classroom etiquette

✰ — kim hongjoong x f!reader ✷ — summary: you and kim hongjoong are: members of the university english department; writing rivals; great enemies. and you meet in an abandoned classroom. ✰ — wc is approx. 2.5k ✷ — genre: rivals and lovers, smut ✰ — warnings: dom!hongjoong x sub!reader. degradation (brat, slut) and praise kinks, pet names (princess, good girl, etc.). slight exhibitionism. oral (m! receiving) and cum swallowing. dumbification of reader. ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: for @lovetaroandtaemin !! requested as part of my follower celebration! i hope this is what u wanted! ty for requesting <3 i can't wait to get to know you more <33

in short, yet again mr. kim has proved himself incapable of writing anything where a character has depth. he is so preoccupied with creating a story filled with dragons and intricate government systems that his characters fall remarkably behind. there is no substance to what he writes. he writes purely as an act of god: to create a world that inspires awe. he does not write for the art of it; for the humanity of it.

you grin to yourself, triumphant, as you publish the review to the lit magazine site. kim hongjoong's short story was littered with positive reviews, readers and fellow authors alike praising his elaborate world-building.

they weren't wrong to praise his world-building. you may not like the man and firmly believe he is a stain upon the university's english department, but you wouldn't lie and say he half-assed his world-building.

but, like you said: where he excelled in world-building building he failed in character-building.

each main character was like the next: brave and with a firm moral compass, a yearning to do the right thing. there was no depth. they felt as artificial as his nose ring, which you saw him pull off one time.

and yet, as you navigate to the home page of the literary magazine and look upon the monthly winners, as voted upon by fellow authors and readers, people just eat it up. they eager await everything kim hongjoong puts out.

as evidenced by the shining number one next to his story link.

with yours immediately beneath it.

well, you think to yourself, you did win last month.

still, you feel slighted; wronged. this month's work had been a masterpiece, in your opinion. a careful character study of a widow reminiscing of her life as she looks out the window, watching the sun rise and set and relating it to her life.

it was thoughtful. more importantly, it was human. it was everything kim hongjoong's story lacked.

your laptop chimes, breaking the near-silence of the lounge. you hurry to silence it, finger jamming on the mute button on your keyboard.

you got a new review on your story.

you click on it.

kim hongjoong (@no1likeme): another perfectly boring character study of someone the audience has no care for. every single word of this story reads as if someone was watching paint dry. no action. no plot. it's a poor imitation of a chekhov story, and a million times more boring. it's an insult to the genre. if i wanted to contemplate the meaning of life, i'd take a philosophy class. i wouldn't spend my precious time writing something as cheesy and trashy as this.

immediately, and predictably, you feel your temper rise.

who was he, you think, closing the screen of your laptop with a sharp movement, to judge your story?

just because he needed to fill his stories to the brim with gunfights and far-away dystopias didn't mean everyone else in the world was ignorant of the wisdom and humanity of character studies.

you shove your laptop into your bag, zipping it up angrily.

every story you put out, kim hongjoong leaves a comment on. it's like he's obsessed with you.

(nothing is to be said about the fact you wait for the moment he uploads a story to read it. you shimmer in your thoughts for a week, rereading and deciding the perfect way to weave your thoughts over his latest work. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a review immediately; wouldn't let him know that you were so eager to read what trash he put out.)

you stepped from the lounge, making your way down the metal staircase.

your work, you knew, was perfect. it was intricate and prompted thought.

just because he didn't understand --

you walked down two flights before stepping off of the staircase. hefting your backpack back onto your shoulder, from where it had been slipping, you make your way down the hall. the english building is nearly abandoned at this hour, a few students littering the hallways, cramming in assignments before they inevitably take the last bus back to their cramped apartment.

you go to the very last classroom on the third floor.

you switch on the lights for the front of the room, the section that is impossible to see by someone walking by and giving a cursory look through the door window.

you settle at the front of the room. the chairs are all on wheels for safety, and it slides gently as you recline into it. you pull out your laptop and boot it back up. kim hongjoong's review tauntingly stares at you.

you screenshot it and then add it to a folder labeled kim hongjoong reviews. there's 30 other reviews within, one for each story you've uploaded to the university literary magazine.

and kim hongjoong had to comment on each one of them.

he's obsessed.

the door to the classroom opens.

in steps kim hongjoong.

he is, naturally, fashionably dressed. black jeans and a black leather jacket, a striped cardigan udnerneath. hongjoong's wearing those stupid black-framed glasses of his, the ones that only seem to highlight the dark arches of his brows and show off his undercut. he's wearing his silver rings, of course, and when he lifts his hand to run his fingers through his black hair, you catch a glimpse of a brown leather watch.

hongjoong looks like he's walked out of a freshman student's fantasy concerning their literary teaching assistant.

you scoff at him. "if you gave your writing half as much attention as you did your clothes, you'd finally have something worth reading."

hongjoong scowls at you, eyes severe. "you really think you know everything, don't you?"

you smirk at him, looking back at your computer. hongjoong comes to the front of the room. he sets his leather back on the ground next to the leg of the table, beginning to pull at the sleeves of his leather jacket.

"leave it on," you demand.

he rolls his eyes. hongjoong continues to take off the leather jacket. beneath it is his striped cardigan, and it's horribly contrasting the undercut and overall sleek look he was going for.

you click your tongue. "shame. i would've said you looked hot had you left it on."

"you're such a fucking brat," hongjoong admonishes. he pulls at the armrests of the chair. it rolls easily in his grasp, and he twists it so you're craning your neck to look up at him.

hongjoong exudes power like this. staring down at you, eyes dark and serious. he's all dominance and imposing, and you can feel something twisting in your gut.

"am i?" you say, eyes glancing down at his mouth.

"you're fucking ridiculous," hongjoong scoffs. then he's swooping down and mashing his mouth against yours.

his hand finds the back of your neck, holding you firm. hongjoong's mouth is demanding, pressing against yours relentlessly, laying claim. he shoves his tongue in, dominant and not wasting a single moment.

hongjoong kisses passionately; he kisses like he's pressing forth all his anger and frustration with you.

you pull back, lips making a soft smacking noise as you separate. hongjoong's mouth is wet with spit from having stuck his tongue in your mouth, and you know your mouth isn't much better.

"seriously," you say, "you write like you're trying to fuck tolkien."

hongjoong gapes at you. and then, "get on your fucking knees, you chekhov-wannabe."

you pout for a moment, putting up a front.

then his hand is slipping up from your neck and into your hair. he guides you onto the floor, taking your spot on the chair.

the floor is cold as you kneel on it, the temperature seeping through the fabric of your jeans. you pay it no mind. instead you watch as hongjoong undoes his belt with a single hand, pushing down at his pants.

"you act like a little know-it-all," hongjoong murmurs. he pushes his jeans down to his ankles, sitting at the edge of the chair. his underwear, naturally, matches the rest of his outfit, black and tight around him.

"well," you say, looking at his bulge. you know hongjoong isn't particularly big, but you know how he fits so perfectly in your mouth. you've gotten wet more than a few times reading one of his stories, imagining him sitting down and writing, dick stuffed in your mouth. "i do know everything."

hongjoong takes out his dick. it's just — perfect. not too thick but still enough to stretch out your pussy deliciously, not too long to where it triggered your gag reflux when he kept it resting in your mouth. it isn't the prettiest dick you've sucked, but it's absolutely the best dick. it curves naturally towards him, ensuring he presses against your g-spot whenever he sticks it in your pussy.

it's just —

you never thought yourself particularly wanton; particularly vulgar or sexual. but fuck, hongjoong's dick —

he runs his hand over his dick. it's flushed from erection, and you watch, transfixed, as he delicately fingers his head and rubs his thumb against the slit, the angle of his hand showing off the watch on his wrist.

"what a little slut," hongjoong laughs. "running your mouth until you get a dick in your face. is that how i gotta shut you up? just get my dick out?"

you flick your eyes up at him. you can feel blood flush to your cheeks. it always feels demeaning to be on your knees in front of hongjoong, letting him bully you.

but you can't deny how drenched his bullying makes your cunt; how it always makes your pussy throb, desperate for him. and you just fucking love playing into it, especially when you know how fucking hard it makes him.

hongjoong slides his fist down his dick, settling it around the root of it. he presses his thumb against the head, pulling back his foreskin. "well? come on, princess. wanted a dick in your mouth so bad, didn't you?"

horribly obedient, you shuffle forward. you place your hands on his knees. hongjoong chuckles, raising his brows over the rim of his glasses. "should make you do it without your hands."

you pout up at him. "joong. . ."

"don't worry princess," he says. "not this time. but —"

you whine.

"don't be a baby," hongjoong admonishes you, though he's lost that severe look. instead he's grinning, pleased with how cock-stupid you are. "i know you just run your mouth and act out because you want my cock in your cunt. say it, baby. say you're sorry for acting out; that you want my dick."

you whine again, nails gently scraping against his thighs. it's always embarrassing how he makes you say such things. it's mortifying how they make your panties stick to your cunt with juices.

"what was it you said? 'no substance to what he writes?'"

"'m sorry," you whimper out. you settle, resting your chin on his knee. you peer up at him, pushing stray strands of hair from your face. "just wanted you, joong."

hongjoong hums, his hand once again delicately moving up his dick. "pretty shitty apology. but i guess it'll do for now."

hongjoong spread out his knees, tilting his dick towards you.

eagerly, like a puppy given the signal to pursue a treat, you lurch forward for his cock.

hongjoong held his dick still for you to press your lips to the tip. immediately you are met with the bitter taste of his precum, the taste of his skin. you slowly, gently, began to lower your mouth around the head of his dick.

"that's a good girl," hongjoong hisses out, hips lightly canting into your mouth. "such a good girl."

you can't help but preen under his praise. this part, where he rambles about how good you are, how you're a princess, you adore too. you love how the words make you heart and pussy flutter, how they smooth the sharp sting of his bullying tongue.

hongjoong glides his dick into your mouth slowly. he savors in the sweet glide of it, in his dick sliding along your tongue, your spit coating it.

you love the weight of his cock in your mouth. whenever his dick is in your mouth you can feel it dull down the sharp edges of your mind. your being becomes centered around his dick, how it feels against your tongue, how little pearls of precum mixes with your spit.

you're usually not crude, but fuck if hongjoong's dick in your mouth isn't the best part of your week.

hongjoong doesn't make you to take his entire dick. he isn't in a particularly mean mood, then. instead he slides his dick until the tip of it is on the back of your tongue, knowing just how much of it you can take after who knows how many sessions you've spent with his dick in your mouth.

"swallow," he commands. you swallow, mouth constricting around his cock. "good girl. good, princess."

one of his hands went to your hair. he guided your head back, his dick sliding around your tongue. drool fell from your mouth as hongjoong withdrew his dick, and you couldn't help but look down and watch his dick, how your spit glistens along his dick.

"good," he says, and then he's fucking back into your mouth.

hongjoong fucks your mouth slowly, his hips gently rolling into your mouth. he fucks your mouth like he's making love to it. endless praise pours from his mouth. "perfect," he sighs, "perfect fucking slutty little princess.

"gonna swallow?" he slows his thrusts even more, languid, biting down on his lip. his glasses have slid down his nose, bangs in his eyes. "gonna swallow my cum, princess?"

you nod, and he groans.

you shift forward. you move your hands up his thighs and slide them around the base of his dick, rising to your knees. hongjoong moves both his hands to your hair, fingernails scraping against your scalp.

you place your lips against the tip of his dick. slowly you take it back into your mouth. hongjoong's grip on your hair tightens as you take his dick further and further into your mouth. you go until the tip of it is hitting the back of your mouth, and then you still.

hongjoong's dick twitches in your mouth.

the need to please him endures, and so you begin fucking his dick with your mouth. you pull off of his dick until it's just your lips wrapped around his tip. then back down to the tip you go, swallowing once your lips are snug around his base. you begin to shallowly bob around his dick, hongjoong's pants, quiet and sweet, coupled with the slick sounds of your mouth around his dick.

when he cums, you can't help but choke. this part of giving head always catches you off guard, no matter how many times you swallow around his dick. you sputter around his cock, only pulling off once you begin to cough.

"good," he murmurs, voice tight. he cradles your face, his hand going to wipe at the cum that splattered on your chin. "good girl."

#ksmutsociety #cromernet #✏️ — writing #⏳ — jupiter's ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fic #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong fic #ateez oneshot #kim hongjoong oneshot #🪩 — 5k

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blackenedsnow · 9 months ago

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IT'S ME AGAIN DON'T ASK WHY AM I HERE AGAIN?!?! I LOVED THE WAY YOU WRITE LIKE OMG?!?? I HAVE 3 IDEAS TODAY YOU CAN CHOOSE ONE OF THEM, OR YOU CAN CHOOSE ONE AND THEN WRITE IT DOWN, YOU CAN DO THE OTHER. IT'S ALL UP TO YOU!!

1-Do you remember the song Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eillish in Collab? Yes, I have a request for it sooo reader we're so popular singer and shadow was her bodyguard he was her protection yk what I mean who hung out together all the time when they're alone anyway one day at a concert of hers when a group of guys tried to attack the people at the concert and tried to attack her and what was she going to do when shadow wasn't there, she couldn't run away because there were already a lot of people wounded, and suddenly a sword stabbed in behind her, and at that very moment shadow come to the shooting concert..but he was too late. (The man who stabbed reader was sonic and his team btw)

2-yk the comic the hungry hero which is sonic? Okay, I have an excellent second opinion because you can't convince me, that sonic was constantly eating human flesh, especially after Tails died, but after meeting the reader, his desire to eat human flesh increased his desire to eat meat for some reason..was he falling in love with her? but it couldn't have been possible! he couldn't have fallen in love with anyone! He changed his mind until the reader found herself eating human flesh in his house when he intived her and he fell even more in love.

3- Reader and shadow were created for Maria, but Professor Gerald had never paid attention to the reader,maria couldn't convince her grandfather to make reader spend time with her, but the reader was kept in the big glass all the time, and shadow cast doubt on that, After Maria's death, the reader had finally been freed by GUN, she had attack the city which is sonics team and shadow. She had begun to attack the city where the rain and thunder did not stop in the sky...But the color of the sky was mixed with purple and black. Finally, the reader showed herself on top of a large building.. pale skin, purple eyes with light blue pupils, and long, dark violet hair that becomes lighter at the ends,she also has a beauty mark below her right eye.. (The reader a game character named raiden shogun by genshin impact) she said "Inactivity serves no purpose whatsoever." sonics team tried to talk to her but not q moment later they found themselves a dark domain and she was the owner of that domain, she Said "we meet again,shadow." Would he be able to convince her?

project Raiden Ei,her purpose was make people feel safe and loved, after marias death..project failed to save the people and her beloved sister.

forgotten project

WARNING: Violence, emotional conflict, hurt/comfort

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Raiden Shogun!Reader

NOTE: You again!! I absolutely love your ideas—thank you so much for trusting me with them again! As for your requests, I’m not super familiar with the first two (though they sound amazing!), but since I’m somewhat familiar with Genshin, I’ll go with the third idea. I know this isn't what you asked for, but instead of "Raiden" I made the reader Y/N. That way if anyone wants to self insert they can. But all of reader describes Raiden!!

SUMMARY: After Maria’s death, you, a forgotten project created alongside Shadow, are freed and seek revenge on the world that failed you. As you lay waste to the city, Shadow steps in, hoping to remind you of your true purpose before it’s too late.

The sky above the city churned violently, dark clouds swirling as rain lashed against the streets below. Thunder boomed in the distance, shaking the windows of the few standing buildings, while purple lightning split the heavens with terrifying force. Chaos reigned in every corner of the city, and in the center of it all stood a figure—cold, unmoved by the destruction that unfolded around her.

You stood on top of the tallest building, the storm your perfect companion as you watched the streets below. Your hair billowed in the wind, the tips glowing faintly as they lightened in color. Your eyes scanned the city as if searching for something—or someone.

“Inactivity serves no purpose whatsoever,” you muttered to yourself, your voice calm despite the chaos. You weren’t here to cause destruction for its own sake, after all. Your purpose was clear: make the people feel safe and loved. But after Maria’s death, that purpose had become twisted, lost in the storm of grief and confusion that overtook you. Your project—your existence—had failed.

And now, you were ready to make them all pay.

Far below, Sonic’s team had gathered, the weight of your presence pressing down on them like a physical force. They’d been trying to contain the damage for hours, but it was clear that this wasn’t just an ordinary disaster.

“What do we do?” Knuckles muttered, scanning the sky as another bolt of lightning flashed overhead. “Who is she?”

Tails shook his head, his eyes wide with worry. “I don’t know, but she’s powerful. We’ve got to find a way to stop her before the entire city gets leveled.”

Shadow stood a little apart from the others, his expression unreadable as he stared up at the building where you stood. Unlike the others, he recognized you immediately, even after all these years. His heart clenched in his chest as memories flooded his mind—memories of you trapped in that glass, forgotten and left behind while he was free to roam the ARK with Maria.

You were a project, just like him. Created for Maria, meant to serve the same purpose: protecting her, keeping those on the ARK safe, loved. But Professor Gerald had never given you the same attention, never let you experience the world outside of that containment. Maria had begged her grandfather to let you out, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

After her death, everything had fallen apart. Shadow had been freed by GUN, but you—had remained trapped, your potential left to fester in the dark.

Until now.

Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were still trying to reason with you. Sonic stepped forward, holding up a hand, his usual cocky grin tempered with caution. “Hey, look, we get it. You’re upset, but wrecking the city isn’t going to bring anyone back. We can help—”

He didn’t get to finish. The moment Sonic spoke, the entire world around them shifted. The bright city streets, the wreckage, even the rain—all of it was swallowed in darkness. The sky above became a swirling void of black and purple, and the ground beneath their feet felt unreal, like they were standing on the edge of an abyss.

They were in your domain now.

You stood before them, your form as solid as the storm, yet otherworldly in the way you seemed to command the very space around her. You raised a hand, and the air itself trembled with power. “We meet again, Shadow.”

Your voice was colder now, distant, as though you were speaking not just to him, but to the shadow of a past you had long left behind. Shadow stepped forward from the group, his crimson eyes locked on hers. Memories of the ARK flashed through his mind—of Maria, of the years spent protecting her. But you had been kept from all of that, trapped in isolation, your purpose unfulfilled.

And now, here you stood, the embodiment of a failed dream.

“Y/N…” Shadow’s voice was steady, though tension rippled through him. He could feel the power you held, and it was vast—far more than anything he had imagined. “What are you doing? You weren't created to destroy.”

Your gaze narrowed slightly, the storm above rumbling in response. “You speak of purpose as though you understand it, Shadow. But you—just like me—were created to serve. To be a tool. And like me, you were cast aside when you no longer served a purpose.”

Shadow clenched his fists. “That’s not true. Maria—”

“Maria is dead!” Yourr voice cut through the air like a blade, and the entire domain around them shuddered. “I was meant to keep the ARK safe, just as you were. But Professor Gerald never allowed it. I was left to watch from behind glass as you, the favored creation, failed everybody.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy with grief and fury. For so long, you had been nothing but a failed experiment, a project abandoned after the one you were meant to protect was taken from you. And now, in your eyes, the world had to pay for that failure.

Shadow stepped forward, undeterred by the crackling energy that surrounded her. “I didn't fail her. I understand your anger. I understand the loss. But this… this isn’t what Maria would have wanted.”

Your eyes flashed, your hand raising as a bolt of lightning struck the ground between them. The force sent the others reeling, but Shadow stood firm. “I didn't even know Maria as well as you did.,” you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. “You were given the chance to be with her. I was left to rot in that glass prison.”

“I’m not the one you’re angry at,” Shadow said, his voice softening. “It’s not me. It’s not this world. It’s the people who kept us apart. You’re lashing out because you’ve been hurt, but you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Your expression faltered, just for a moment, before the steel returned to your eyes. “It’s too late for that. There’s nothing left for me now. Nothing except this… this power, and the destruction it brings.”

But as you spoke, there was a flicker of doubt in your gaze. Shadow knew that beneath the fury, the pain still lingered. He took a step closer, his voice low. “You don’t have to be alone anymore. I couldn’t save Maria. But maybe I can save you.”

For a long moment, you stood still, your eyes locked on his. The storm above raged on, the dark domain around them swirling with tension, but there was a shift in the air. The anger that had fueled your destruction began to waver, and for the first time, Shadow saw something other than fury in your eyes.

He saw fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of failing again.

And in that moment, something broke.

You lowered you hand, the power that had been crackling around you slowly dissipating. The storm above began to calm, and the purple and black sky started to fade into a dull gray. The domain, you domain, began to unravel, and the familiar cityscape of rain-soaked streets around them.

But you didn’t move. You stood there, your eyes staring at Shadow, as if searching for something—something you hadn’t found in years. “What am I supposed to do now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Shadow stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “We can figure that out together. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

The others—Sonic, Tails, Knuckles—watched in silence as the tension in the air finally broke. You, the weapon once created to protect, stood before Shadow, your power still immense but no longer driven by rage. And as the storm slowly died, there was a sense of quiet between you, as though the two of you had finally found some measure of understanding.

For the first time since the fall of the ARK, You weren't alone.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #sonic fanfic #sonic x reader #x reader #ask #oneshot #request #fanfic

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outofconcheol · 10 months ago

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resonance (scb x f!reader)

pairing: android!changbin x heiress!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, arranged marriage, e2l (a little bit), sort of cyberpunk au, 18+

summary: Perfection - an idea that’s been drilled into you from birth. As the sole heir to the empire known as Miroh Labs, you’ve watched technology and tradition collide. However, your family’s latest venture is one that puts your own fate in limbo – ambitiously arranging a marriage to an android of their creation, known as C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N. Grappling with the idea of marrying a machine, you come to realize Changbin is more than a set of intricate codes – the profound depths of his abilities are capable of changing the fabric of society, and you, forever.

warnings: strained parent child relationships (OC's parents are jerks), mentions of past abuse (very mild and not described in detail), class differences, failed past relationship references numerous times, cameos from Chan, Jisung, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Yuna (ITZY), fair warning OC is a lot, Changbin is precious, self-doubt and negative feelings, arguments, alcohol, blood and injury, swearing, genetic engineering, talks of self-determination and agency, Streetlight my beloved makes an appearance

word count: 12k

a/n: happy (belated) bday to my beloved Changbin (almost a month later, nice)! i hope this is enjoyable and worthy of someone as wonderful as Changbin seems (i might have slightly fallen in love with him while writing this, don't look at me). the lovely banner is by Sarah (@caelesjjk). I hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension (lots of it), making out, kind of hatefucking?, sex outside (against a railing), clothed sex, dirty talk, brief nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex (just because Changbin can doesn't mean you should), honestly more mild than the warnings imply

It’d been years since you’d seen candles - forgotten memories of birthdays past that faded into oblivion. Their warm, nascent glow had flickered much like your own life had, the comfort of past years giving way to the bright, grating pixels of the lights that illuminated New Domino - bright pinks, vivid greens, cool blues and silvers. Lights that greeted you from your window when you went to bed every night, reminding you that no matter how much your life stalled, the city never would, much of it your own family’s doing.

The years before Miroh Labs, your family’s company, took hold of the city, became difficult to recall — before the towering skyscrapers blocked out the sun, neon lights replacing its rays, technology weaving itself seamlessly into the fabric of your lives, like the patterns on your dress.

Picking at the threads – you wonder if someone had put love and care into intertwining each one, meeting perfectly to create the image of a flower. But the thought quickly dispels — knowing that a specialized machine was behind it, or an android doing the work that was once meant for humans.

Resonance, your family prided themselves on saying. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – only it’d progressed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Systems had advanced from being motherboards connected to screens to full blown humanized machines, who not only had to ability to perform human functions, but excel at them when it came to speed, efficiency, and cost.

The thought of it made you sick to your stomach. As the presumptive heir to Miroh Labs’ empire, you’d seen firsthand how ambition had slowly given way to greed, your family creating and creating and creating, giving no mind to how their projects always seemed to end up in the hands of the city’s elite.

You’d been to the outskirts, the fringes of society failing to catch up with the advancement of the inner city, a ruined wasteland where people struggled to find work to bring home food for their families.

But they had candles, you muse, smiling lightly to yourself, remembering how you’d passed by a home once, devoid of any electricity, a single candle flickering in the window, the family huddled around their only source of light. It had brought them closer in ways that you could only dream of.

Which is why the intimate setting of the dining room shocked you today – lights dim, candleglow every prominent. Except instead of comforting you, it felt strangely eerie, casting shadows on the faces of your parents, seated at the head of the long table, your own chair pulled out at the very opposite end.

Of course - your parents spared no opportunity to turn even the simplest of dinners into a boardroom meeting. Wincing, you feel the chair screech as you slide it across the cool tile, the sound grating your ears, which have begun to ring, pain throbbing at your temples.

The food is untouched, grave expressions on your parents’ face, and it’s your father who breaks the deafening silence.

“There’s a new project we want you to be a part of—”

“Forget it,” you pick at your plate. “I’m not interested. It’s not like I can contribute anything useful anyway.”

“This one’s different,” your mother’s voice cuts you off, and it’s softer, more gentle than you’ve ever heard it. For a moment, you could believe she actually cared.

Your father’s footsteps reverberate against the tile, walking over to your side of the table. A picture is set in front of you – a man. Dark curly hair, full lips, a strong jaw, the faint hint of muscle underneath his shirt. But it’s his eyes that pierce through the page – stark hazel. Your throat feels tight, closing in on itself.

“New employee?” you ponder, even though you know it’s not the answer.

Hazel eyes were for androids — no human would have eyes so piercing, ones that could glint in the darkest room, or pale in the brightest sun.

“___, meet C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Advanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. Our pride and joy.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the words, knowing they’d never applied to you – you with your rebellious streak, your lack of achievements, your failed engagement to a man that was far too good for you.

Hyunjin’s face flashes in the back of your mind, and you fight to keep your expression from shifting.

“C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N was created for a very specific purpose you see — he’s been built and programmed to be the perfect companion. To provide all the qualities that one would normally seek in a spouse. Although humans are falliable, C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N is not. But we need a beta tester.”

The reality of what your parents are proposing dawns on you, horror creeping up your spine.

“No–,” you begin to protest, but you’re cut off by a wave of your father’s hand.

“The announcements have already been uploaded to the city-wide servers. Starting tomorrow, news of C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N’s launch will go live, along with your engagement announcement. The wedding will be held in a week’s’ time.”

You look despondently to your mother, hoping the pain in your eyes is enough to dissuade her. Were you really that worthless to your parents that they’d hand you to a hunk of scrap metal, dooming you to loneliness for the rest of your life?

Your mother shakes her head. “___, dear, this is the least you can do for us, and for Miroh Labs. Especially given everything that’s happened.”

They always wielded it against you — the fact that you were hard to love. You hadn’t been enough to persuade Hyunjin to stay, and they’d experienced the fallout from whispers all around New Domino. Now, you were barely human in their eyes, not even equal to, and probably lesser than this machine they’d fabricated, one whose fate had become irrevocably intertwined with yours. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

When Changbin wakes, everything is a blur. While his lungs don’t burn for air, his circuits are driven haywire anyway by the new environment - the harsh gleam of fluorescent lights, the gentle whirring of motors, the coolness of the metal table. It hits him all at once, and he’s tempted to close his eyes again, to return to the darkness of being powered down.

A figure looms over him, a taller man in a lab coat, his eyes gentle and full of concern, almost as if he’s holding his breath looking at Changbin.

“Hello C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, my name is Chan. I am one of the lead research developers at Miroh Labs. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Changbin feels his system boot up, gentle heat spreading through the center of his body, all the way to his fingertips.

“Good morning, Chan. I am C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Andvanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. How may I be of assistance?”

His voice reverberates through his speakers, a monotonous tinge resounding against the empty walls of the lab, and he watches Chan’s face twist,

“Do you know why you’re here right now?” Chan asks, curiosity in his gaze.

“I am an advanced computer-human android, programmed to fulfill the role of a partner. My duties and capabilities include companionship, emotional support, and assistance with domestic tasks, designed to blend into one’s life seamlessly.”

As he speaks, Changbin notices his sensors blinking, watching different parts of his arm, chest, and the rest of his body light up as various programs are activated.

Chan slides something in his direction – a sheet of paper with a picture on it. He takes a look at it, his cameras analyzing the woman in the photo. Everything from the colour of her hair to the tiny mole on the back of her hand, to the way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, perhaps evidence that something is different with her psychology from normal humans.

“This is ___, the next in line to be CEO of Miroh Labs. You will be her future companion,” Chan sighs heavily. “The family has already gone live with the announcement for the wedding, we only have a week to prepare.”

Changbin’s sensors beep, red lights blinking while he processes what Chan is saying, and Chan looks on, a deep furrow in between his brows.

“A w-week?” Changbin, stutters, and Chan already wonders if there’s something wrong with his circuitry. That couldn’t be possible though, the ___ family had tasked him with working on this for the better part of nine months, dedicating each and every hour of his spare time to this endeavour. He brushes off the thought, knowing that there was no way your parents would proceed unless everything was guaranteed to be perfect. After all, the motto of Miroh Labs was to create a more perfect world.

Changbin straightens, legs swinging over the edge of the table as he rises, standing slightly shorter than Chan.

“I understand my responsibilities, Chan. I assure you I will carry them out to the best of my abilities, until ___ is nothing less than satisfied.”

Chan looks at the android in front of him, his face softening. For a moment, Changbin looked as real as him – from the way his hair curled to the strong lines of his body. He almost reminded him of a younger sibling, and a protective instinct washed over Chan.

“I know you will Changbin. But there’s also something you should know.”

Changbin looks up with anticipation at Chan, wondering if there was a new program Chan wanted to add, and whether that meant he had to wait before he could meet ___.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but should you ever decide that this is what you want, or that you desire to do something different, to be somewhere else, there’s always a way out. You’re more than just an android Changbin.”

Changbin’s processors began to hum. More than just an android? It didn’t make sense to him. His programs were designed to be the best, to cover every single duty one could expect from a partner. What more could there be? Still, Chan’s words sparked intrigue, and he saved a recording of them to his memory, just in case they would be useful later.

“Alright then Changbin, shall we get started? There’s a lot we need to go over about ___ before the wedding happens. Her favourite colour, favourite foods, the layout of her apartment … these will help inform your programs to adapt even more perfectly to your duties,” Chan’s voice is calm and even, with no hints of the darkness of the previous conversation in his tone at all.

They tour around the laboratories, Chan introducing him to the new world he was now expected to be a part of — from the windows, Changbin looks out onto New Domino, watching the hovercrafts zip down the neon-lit streets, and the skyscrapers graze the clouds, a dense fog covering up the skyline.

Changbin listens intently as Chan goes on, his motors continuing to whir and sensors lighting up as each new piece of information is revealed — the new dimensions of his existence seemed vast and overwhelming, and he worried whether he’d be up to the task, knowing what happened to androids who were faulty – they were deprogrammed, becoming no more than scrap metal to fuel the fires of those on the fringes of society. Shuddering at the thought, Changbin knew he had no choice but to succeed. All he could hope was that you would accept him too.

Goosebumps rise all along your arms — you feel the thorns of the roses prick your fingers as you clutch the bouquet in your hands tighter, listening from behind the door as the muted whispers of the guests fill the ceremony space. You can hear cameras going off, preparing yourself to be met with a grand scene - shimmering lights, velvet drapes, everything bathed in opulent hues of gold and silver.

There’s an uncomfortable buzz – everything had happened so quickly. From the invitations going out to the details being finalized, you’d had little to no say in any of it, the uncomfortable lace of the dress you could barely voice your resistance to scratching against your skin, setting it on fire. For once, you wished you could down a glass of champagne or two to keep the nerves at bay.

A pit settles in your stomach once the door opens, and you’re blinded by the twinkling lights of crystal chandeliers. Heart pounding in your ears, you move automatically without thinking, heels clacking against the polished marble floor. Everything around you is a blur – senses in overdrive, it all melds together. The bright flashes of the photographers, the uncomfortably cold temperature of the room, even the soft tones of the piano becoming grating to your ears.

The only thing that remains clear is the figure waiting for you at the end. You suck in a breath – seeing Changbin for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how stunning of a specimen he was. Of course, he’d been designed to be crafted to perfection, but he was beyond flawless.

Clad in a black tux, the fabric hugs his broad, muscular, frame and tapers at the waist, highlighting his athletic build. His dark hair is swept away from his forehead, exposing the prominent angles of his face. The put-togetherness of his appearance must only serve to highlight the chaos of your own, the makeup doing little to cover up the lack of sleep you’d dealt with ever since that fateful meeting with your parents.

Coming up to the altar, Changbin extends his hand in your direction, and you’re shocked when you feel the warmth of his hand. Sparks jolt where your skin makes contact, and for a moment you forget that he’s not human like you, a jumble of circuits and running electricity. But it floats away when his posture goes rigid once again, with no hint of emotion on his face.

Mechanical – that’s how every bit of this felt. From the brittleness in the officiant’s tone as he droned on about the sanctity of marriage, to the pointed stares and light din that surrounded what should have been a sacred moment – two souls joining together as one. But Changbin didn’t have a soul. And you weren’t sure you did either. The two of you were just glass figurines, put on display for everyone to ogle, cogs in the machine of this elaborate public spectacle that your parents had crafted.

For a brief moment, you wonder if Hyunjin’s somewhere in the crowd, eyes widening as you search frantically for him, the one person who could have been your out, your chance at a normal life. But not a single face stands out to you – a crowd of strangers looking back at you. A bead of sweat pools at the base of your neck, and you suck in a breath.

You feel fingers wrap around your own, Changbin’s hand coming to clasp around yours, and it takes a moment for you to reorient yourself to the scene going on around you. The officiant is asking you to join hands, ready to repeat the vows that will join you and Changbin together.

Changbin’s eyes bore into yours, the hazel containing more depth than you’d imagined for an android.

“Are you ok?” the words are whispered so quietly you may have almost missed them. In fact, you believe you might have missed them, unable to believe what’s coming out of Changbin’s mouth. His voice is deeper than you’d expected, gravelly yet with a pleasant tone, far from the flat and monotone affect you’d expected.

Either two things could have been true in this moment: 1) Changbin knew you better than you knew yourself, or 2) he was malfunctioning, a slip in his meticulous programming. But androids weren’t people, they weren’t capable of feeling for people. They were only capable of completing the tasks set out for them.

You drop his hand, lips parting, unable to croak out a reponse for fear of arousing suspicion. But the moment is over before you’d even had a chance to respond, buried underneath his calculated rigidness once more.

The knife twists deeper in your gut when your lips curl around the “I do”, the words sounding as artificial as Changbin’s own, sealing the vows that doomed the two of you to a loveless existence by each others’ side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you pull the heavy diamond earrings out of your ear, setting them on the cool crisp marble of your bathroom counter, rubbing at your burning earlobes. Alone in the comfort of your bathroom, you feel like you’re finally able to breathe again. And that’s when it all hits you, the gravity of what had just transpired weighing on you with the force of a heavy boulder.

Throat closing in on itself, you struggle to breathe, doubling over as tears fill your eyes. Fingers, shaking, you fumble with the laces of your dress, until the tightness is removed from your rib cage and you can finally breathe again, the dress falling to the floor.

If Hyunjin was here, he’d help you take it off, his fingers dancing delicately across the skin of your back. He’d remove the pins from your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your head in the spot where each one of them had been, until you finally grew tired of his teasing, pulling him in to meet your lips. If Hyunjin had been here, your wedding would have been full of love and joy and laughter, the most vivid of paintings come to life. But you’d lost him, and now yourself. You were alone.

A distant clanging jolts you from your misery, and you slip into your pyjamas, softly padding out from your bathroom to see what the commotion was about. Immediately, you’re hit with the aroma of savoury garlic and herbs, stomach rumbling in response. You’d barely eaten anything the whole night, scared that whatever you tried to would just come back up due to the gnawing feeling in your gut.

It hits you that you were no longer alone in this apartment — there was another being here now, one who’d managed to crawl inside the walls that you’d kept up. Changbin had no choice but to be here with you, to see you at your most vulnerable and exposed.

The hallway is dark as you make your way to the kitchen, pausing when you see Changbin bent over the stove, a crisp white apron around his waist. He’d changed too, clad in a comfy pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt that showcases his wide shoulders.

The grumbling of your stomach gives you away – Changbin turning to see you at the threshold, his face lighting up in a smile. You notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes, restrained and polite – like the ones that littered the billboards of New Domino, promoting the latest breakthroughs.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he assures you. “I made aglio e olio.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the Italian dish he’d mentioned — one of your favourites, but it sours when you think about how he’d probably been trained by the researchers to know your preferences. If it had been another person, maybe he would have made kimchi jigae or maqluba. It meant nothing.

“Smells great,” you manage to croak out, grateful for the hot meal. In a few moments, the table is full of two steaming plates of pasta, Changbin taking his place at the other end. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to sit next to you, allowing you to eat in piece. Silence passes, filled only with the clanging of forks, and you watch Changbin bristle in his chair. He pauses every few moments, like he wants to say something, but holds back, until you can no longer take it.

“What is it?” you spit out, uncaring at how harsh the words come across. Changbin doesn’t flinch, but you watch lights run across his arm, whirring emanating from him, like he’s trying to process your actions. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” he asks, and you’re taken aback. You hadn’t expected such a simple, yet earnest question. You’d half-expected him to ask you to rate his skills from one to ten, like the surveys that popped up whenever you dined out at a fancy restaurant.

“It was delicious,” you refuse to lie. The pasta had quelled the burning hunger you’d felt, making you considerably less irritable, and Changbin whirs to life again, processing what you’d just told him.

You help him clean up, the two of you working in tandem to clear the table, carefully skirting around each other. Shadows dance across the wall from the city lights reflecting through the window.

Warmth emanates from Changbin, as you feel his heavy breath fan the back of your neck, startled by how life-like it actually felt. You realize you’re caged behind his arms as he puts the dried plates into the cabinet above you, the air growing thick with something you couldn’t name.

Turning around, you’re pressed against the hard planes of Changbin’s chest, and you lurch at the way your body comes to life against his, nipples peaking in the cold air.

A light flickers at Changbin’s temple, and he studies you curiously, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your breathing quickens.

His gaze lingers on your lips, leaning in closer. But before he can meet yours, you’re pulling away, shame and guilt in your chest. This wasn’t real. None of it was. And the sooner you learned to accept it, the less miserable both of you would be.

“I’m tired,” you whisper into thin air, turning your face away from his. “I want to go to bed.”

You swear Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment before he straightens, responding with the mechanical tone you’d expected all along.

“Of course, you must be exhausted from today.”

You falter, not knowing whether he’d follow you into your room. Now that you were married, it was expected you’d share a bed. Stepping away, you’re relieved when he doesn’t follow.

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, your mind replays everything that had happened – the fake fanfare of the wedding to Changbin asking if you were okay, to whatever had just happened now. Changbin couldn’t have wanted to kiss you, right? He lacked his own desires. Someone had probably told him that was what couples did.

The softness of your sheets and the light streaming in from your window did nothing to quell the turmoil arising within you – your room no longer felt like the safe refuge it had once been, where you could shut out the rest of the world.

In the silence of the night, the weight of what your life had become settled heavily on your chest. Once full of warmth and love, it was now cold and unfeeling, as clinical as the hallways of Miroh Labs.

For a brief moment, you hear steps come towards your bedroom, before they retreat. The hallway light flickers, before it’s turned off, and you’re able to retreat into the darkness once more.

No, you’d told your parents when they’d brought up the idea. Absolutely not.

As usual, your pleading fell on deaf ears. The invites had already been accepted, your dress had been arranged, and a night filled with mindless drivel and booze chatting with the city’s elite waited for you and Changbin.

You hated it – this pretending. At home, it was easy to accept, the way you and Changbin moved around each other, the uneasiness of that first night permeating every interaction you’d had after. But out here, in New Domino, the pretending had to happen. You had to play the part of a couple in love.

Changbin took to it easier than you’d expected. You’d nearly stumbled the moment you’d stepped out of your room, watching him turn to you with hands tucked into the pockets of yet another black tux. You briefly wondered if it was the exact same one he’d worn to the wedding – it wasn’t like there was a need for him to have different outfits, since his clothes never got dirty.

You hoped Changbin didn’t notice your gaze lingering on just how good he managed to look – outshining even your emerald silk gown. You wait for the same from him – a falter, a nod, some sort of acknowledgment that he was just as taken by you. But it never comes, his arm slipping stiffly into yours.

The car ride to the gala is silent, a sea of nerves and anxiety filling the space between you two. The lights from the city pass you by, illuminating Changbin’s face in a strange, yet beautiful glow.

However, you barely acknowledge it, lost in thought while watching the cars speed by on the freeway. Before long, the glittering lights of the manor greet you, and it feels as though you’re transported back in time. As much as the upper echelon of New Domino loved their androids and their hovercrafts, nothing could replace the value of a night full of egregiously expensive liquor and brainless chatter about how far society had come, knowing they’d done little to contribute to it besides emptying their pockets.

Changbin lingers by your side, and you’re painfully aware of his scent – the one he’d chosen for tonight. Black leather and sandalwood saturate the air in between you, and you notice the stares from other guests as the two of you weave through the crowd, you in search of water to clear the pounding headache that had begun to form at your temples.

For how out of place he is, Changbin dances the dance of your peers well – meeting their fake smiles with a polished one of his own, waving and happily introducing himself to anyone that passes by.

It shouldn’t bother you that none of it directed at you – you told yourself you didn’t want his affection, that he could never give you what he desired. So why did it bother you when he stops one of the hostesses for a glass of champagne, watching her face turn sour when he swerves to hand it to you?

You down the drink before he can even blink, moving away from him and further into the throng. Your head is buzzing, and you feel the alcohol come straight back up, rushing to the bathroom when you hear it – a soft whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.

“It’s almost amusing,” a woman says, “to see such a flawless machine with someone so... human.”

“You know what happened with her last engagement, right? Hyunjin left her for another woman…”

It’s too much to bear, bile rising in your throat, before you feel a hand on the small of your back. If Changbin was human, you’d almost expect his knuckles to turn white with the force he uses to grip your waist.

“I suggest you keep your unwanted comments to yourself,” Changbin seethes, watching the guests turn pale. You sway under his touch, head spinning from the combination of alcohol and Changbin coming to your defense, before he’s leading you away, the crisp night air from the balcony nipping at your backs.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you gently, while you watch the same light at his temple flicker.

None of this was okay. None of it at all. But you didn’t want to make him understand how much was wrong with you being here with him, when it should have been someone else, someone you actually had loved.

“It’s fine,” you clear your throat, peeling his hand from your waist. His touch continues even after you’ve removed his fingers, and you shiver.

You were used to it – the stares, the whispers. They’d followed you your whole life, the cuts left in their wake eventually turning into hardened scars. You didn’t need defending, least of all from him.

“I’m going to leave,” you tell him, stepping away. “You’re free to stay. Please don’t let me ruin your evening.”

“I can go with you,” his voice echoes from beside you, “I was getting tired anyway.”

A sick, twisted laugh bubbles from your throat at his insistence. Changbin didn’t get tired, he couldn’t get tired. He wasn’t like you.

“Stay,” your voice is resolute. “That’s an order, Changbin.”

Changbin turns to face you, recoiling at the red rimming your eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent when the lights of the manor illuminate you from behind.

You don’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Your paralysis slowly melts away and you’re pushing him away without realizing it, walking away without another word. You don’t dare to turn around, knowing your heart would twist when you found Changbin looking at you again with that same blank expression – the one you’d come to know all too well.

Dawn is is barely trickling when you slip out of your apartment. Passing by the living room, you notice Changbin in the corner, standing against the wall. For a moment, he looks so peaceful you would almost think he’d fallen asleep. However, you take one look at the outlet and realize he’s powered down for the night, free from his duties of following you around. A pang of annoyance rattles through you. It should have been romantic, knowing Changbin had no point to his existence if it didn’t revolve around you. All it did was made you sick to your stomach instead.

Curling your jacket tighter around you, you duck your head down, few vehicles on the streets due to the early hour. The city seemed eerie yet peaceful at dawn, the dim rays of sun barely breaking through the clouds, casting everything in a soft orange glow. Such a stark contrast from the bright neon and gray that tinged its walls at every other time of day.

With only the sound your heels slamming against the pavement to keep you company, your walk slips into a run as your coat flies behind you, the wind whipping through your air. The city is soon left behind, tall skyscrapers giving way to modest brick houses, plumes of smoke wafting through the air.

Fire. You smile at the thought of it. Fire meant happy homes, with happy families. Families who relied on each other, who loved one another.

The haze that had clouded your head last night seems to have subsided, head clearer from the fresh air. But thoughts of Changbin cease to depart as easily, and it leaves you to wonder exactly where you stood with him.

He cared, more than an android should. For a moment it almost seemed like maybe he–

You shake the thought away, rounding the corner, shoulders immediately slumping in relief when you see the worn-out sign of the clinic.

“___?” a voice calls out to you. “Is that you?”

“Hello Jeongin,” you smile at the younger boy who bounds down the steps when he sees your figure standing outside, hair windswept and cheeks flushed as he comes to a halt next to you.

“Noona, what are you doing here?” he asks, and you feel yourself shrink underneath his sincere gaze.

“What do you mean? I always come by this time every week,” you raise an eyebrow, watching Jeongin bounce on the balls of his feet.

“But noona, you’re married now.”

You freeze at his statement, not realizing that the news had reached here too. Jeongin’s eyes are alight with excitement, and you know he’s going to ask questions that you don’t have the heart to answer.

As if he can sense your trepidation, Jeongin ushers you inside, the warm smiles of the elderly patients you’d come to know and love greeting you.

Before long, the two of you are at work, you helping them fill out their paperwork while Jeongin works to check their vitals and bring them back for the doctor to see them. All the while, you’re regaled with stories about their lives, including lost loves, mischievous grandchildren, and fond memories of a time that has since passed.

This is why you loved coming here. It reminded you that away from the hustle of New Domino, actual life existed. Life imbued with meaningful moments, connections, and people. Something that society seemed to have forgotten.

“You have such a beautiful smile,” one of the regulars, Miss Choi, pinches your cheek affectionately. “It’s such a shame we didn’t see it in any of your photos.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, shoulders tensing. “I guess Jeongin must have shown everyone.”

“Of course dear, you looked lovely. And such a handsome groom too!”

She titters, and you ponder about whether or not she knows the actual details of your wedding, of who Changbin really was. Even if she did, would she understand it? Even though he’d long since passed away, Miss Choi had a husband who’d loved her, who was capable of loving her. She wasn’t a victim of someone else’s greed, of their ambition. She’d never understand the kind of abyss that New Domino had become, and if she did, she’d probably be horrified.

You pat her shoulder, hoping she can’t see the way your breath hitches, before you’re rushing to the back, curling in on yourself as sobs wrack your entire body.

Jeongin is by your side in seconds, a steady arm on your shoulder, and you lean into the younger boy, someone who despite not having spent that much time with, had become your one of your closest friends.

“How much of it did you hear?” you mutter, looking at the floor.

“I heard enough,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, noona.”

You don’t know how long you stay glued to Jeongin’s side, unable to stand upright, the two of you failing to notice the figure watching from outside the window.

. . .

Changbin hadn’t meant to follow you. He’d heard you slip out in the morning, not having powered down completely last night. After what had happened at the gala, his processors had gone into overdrive, replying everything – the whispers of those awful guests, the way you leaned into his touch, to your harsh words telling him you didn’t want him around.

Changbin wonders if he’d already failed at his task – it seemed like you didn’t care for his companionship, no matter how hard he tried. The walls you had built were too high for even his sophisticated technology to penetrate, and he hums, wondering if this meant he’d be deprogrammed.

Chan’s words from before echo in the back of his mind – what did he mean an alternative? Was there another task he could be useful for, even if you didn’t want him?

Not wanting to dwell too long, he trails a safe distance behind you, watching you break into a run, limbs heavy with fatigue, your breathing labored, until an unfamiliar neighbourhood materializes, the grandeur of luxury boutiques and high-end restaurants fading into older buildings.

Finally catching up to you, he watches you embrace a younger man, the two of you walking into a battered, broken down building together. Heat floods Changbin, his gears kicked into overdrive, struggling to make sense of what he was witnessing. Did you already have someone else? Was this Hyunjin, the one who’d left you?

The air turns crisp the longer he lingers outside the door, waiting for any sign. He gets it when he sees a leaf fall, your figure appearing in the window, hunched over like you’re in pain. The same man from before is by your side, offering you his shoulder to lean on.

Changbin doesn’t know what comes over him — he’s at the door before he can think, even rationalize what’s going on.

He waits until your figure materializes from the back, wanting to see who the new entry was. Your lips part in a silent gasp when you see Changbin standing there.

It’s like he’s malfunctioning, gears whining and lights glinting, his jaw tense when Jeongin comes up behind you.

“Noona,” he hears the other man whisper. “I think you should go.”

You nod wordlessly, motioning for Changbin to walk with you, the two of you ignoring the many eyes that follow you, making your way down the dimly lit street.

The wind whips around him as Changbin jogs behind you, watching as you push through the crowds of passerby. You walk and walk, and he follows, watching the houses disappear behind him as you go higher and higher, eventually stopping when the road ends.

The view isn’t even comparable to the one from your penthouse – it’s even better. From the hill, he can see everything – the houses you’d passed on your way, to the bright lights of the city center, to beyond the horizon, where a mass of dense clouds covers the horizon. Which is exactly where you’re looking, and Changbin can’t help but look too, wondering what lies past their cover.

“I used to come here with Hyunjin,” you break the silence. “Before everything fell apart.”

“We’d just sit here and look at the sky,” you continue, words crashing into each other as you rush to get them out. Changbin doesn’t know whether he should reach out for you, but decides against it, not wanting to startle your trembling figure.

“We’d look at the sky and wonder about what the future would look like — a million different scenarios. Sometimes we’d be rich, other times poor, living in the city, living out of it. But we always had each other. Until he decided to leave.”

“We should get you home–”

“Am I really that hard to love?” you blurt out, and Changbin freezes, the naked truth of why you’d been so cold finally exposed to him.

“___, it’s not, you shouldn’t think like this–,” Changbin struggles to analyze this, something far beyond the limits of what his data sets had compiled. This was different, this grief was beyond the depths of his understanding. This yearning for something else, someone else.

“Can you make it go away Changbin? This emptiness that lives inside me. This feeling that my life has never been mine, will never be mine?” you taunt him, knocking against his chest, scoffing when you hear the hollowness of metal.

“You can’t, can’t you? You’re just an android–”

“I’M NOT!” Changbin screams, his circuits devolving into chaos at the sharb jab of your words, Chan’s words coming back to him. “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not.”

He feels sparks inside him, his words stilting as he struggles to get them out. His fingers grasp at the back of his neck, searching for the one button he knows can end this, can put him out of his misery. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

He doesn’t even notice how close you’ve become until he feels your breath fan against his lips, like that first night.

“Prove it,” you whisper, eyes off to the side like you didn’t expect him to listen.

But he listens.

Changbin surges forward, seeking your lips, and you stumble for a brief second, thinking you’ll hurtle off the hilltop, before his arm comes up to wrap around you, your hands tangling in his hair in an instant. The wind howls around you both, yet a shiver ran down your spine, blood pounding in your ears.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, and you capture him with your teeth, drawing him in, a moan bubbling up in your chest.

He feels so real. This felt so real.

Changbin can hardly think either, kicked into overdrive, the feel of your hungry mouth against his, the fervent swipe of his tongue against your lips. You knew this was a bad idea, that it would complicate everything, but you didn’t have it in you to care, hands roaming everywhere, slipping underneath the hem of Changbin’s shirt to trace circles against his hard stomach.

A strangled sound escapes Changbin’s throat, and the two of you part, flustered and trembling, Changbin resting his forehead to yours. Your fingers card through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he moves again, roving down your jawline, lapping at your skin. Despite it being freezing out, a thin trail of sweat trickles down your neck, and Changbin doesn’t miss the opportunity to taste you, teeth grazing as he goes.

“Let me show you,” he rumbles into your chest, voice raspy from the lack of air.

The cold metal of the railing juts against your back as Changbin lunges, his arm locking you into place. Your cry of protest turns into a gasp when he nudges a knee in between your thighs, spreading them apart.

“God, just fucking touch me already,” you seethe, gasping when he thumbs at your nipples through the fabric of your shirt, the swollen peaks stiffening when he tugs them with his fingers.

An ache begins to build between your thighs when you look into Changbin’s eyes, their laser-like focus on you and you only, and that’s when his fingers slip underneath your skirt and straight to where you need him.

“Say please,” he whispers, and for a moment, you imagine the same desperation in his tone that colours yours.

Even when you don’t say anything, he knows from the tremble of your lips and the slight nod of your head that you want this.

The moment he swipes his fingers against your core, Changbin curses, palm meeting the furious grinding of your hips.

Your hands ball into fists, feeling the slick leak out of you, and you whine, a warm flush settling over your body, evidence of its betrayal.

“Pretend all you want,” Changbin hisses. “Pretend you hate me. Pretend you don’t see me. But we both know you want this.”

You try to hold your resolve, your wet cunt leaking even more, walls fluttering around his fingers. One wrong move and you’d go hurtling over the railing. But Changbin’s grip on you is like a vice, which only makes you squeeze harder around his knee.

He changes his pace, circling faster, harder, and your head goes hazy from the stimulation, your hands grabbing fistfuls of Changbin’s shirt. When you feel yourself teetering on the brink, body flushing with anticipation, it all stops.

Panting, you look at Changbin, his dark eyes surveying you hungrily, and you hear the clink of his belt, quivering as you try and spare yourself from being utterly wrecked by the sight of his cock.

“Look. at. me,” he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, your eyes fluttering from the delirium of it all.

Gripping your thighs, he sinks you down onto him. You cry out as the initial pain subsides and you feel his hips snap up into you, pubic bone rolling against your clit.

“Changbin, I, shit-, it’s too much!” you plead, shamelessly rocking aginst him as he sets a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathy moans echoing bouncing from the walls.

Changbin says nothing, planting a messy kiss on your lips, prodding his tongue into the seam of your mouth to taste, and you anchor your palms against the railing, allowing him to roll his hips upward, the two of you moving in tandem.

The fire in your abdomen reaches a peak, a new wave of arousal suddenly washing over you as you feel your hips jerk, coming undone as you collapse against Changbin, stifling a groan against his throat.

Lifting you off of the railing, Changbin’s arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel something wet against the side of your face. Tears.

“Changbin–”

You wobble to your feet, head swirling with emotion, but he’s already pulling away, the faint outline of his figure the only thing you see as he heads off into the night.

Sighing, you pull your glasses down onto your face, hoping they can diguise the fact that despite your best efforts, your night was absolutely restless, swimming with thoughts of Changbin.

After leaving you on the hilltop, he’d vanished, leaving you to make your own way home. And now, not even a day later, your parents had decided to add to your headache by summoning you for a board meeting.

You expected them to ask for updates on your relationship with Changbin, to pry into your life, pretending like they cared. It was what they’d always done.

But you never expected this.

“I–, I don’t understand,” you gnaw at your lip, biting down so hard the skin may break. In front of you, the powerpoint gleams brightly. You can read the words off the slide, but you struggle to actually process them. And what they mean.

The beta testing was successful. Although people responded rather tepidly at first to the idea of a human-android relationship, we’ve gotten more positive feedback and requests to expand than ever. We’re on the verge of a new breakthrough here at Miroh Labs. And we want you to take charge of it.

Your father’s words have been echoing ceaslessly in the back of your mind, ever since he uttered them the moment you walked in.

The news has you deeply unsettled. You’d thought that this was some kind of social experiment, that you and Changbin were some freaks of nature, two outcasts in society brought together as a spectacle for others. You’d never anticipated it would come to this.

Miroh Labs wasn’t just looking to change the future of human-android relationships. No your parents twisted plan took it a step further – they sought to create models beyond Changbin’s capabilities as a companion, ones who would be equipped with the ability to reproduce.

We’d never have to worry about birth rates or a weak genetic pool again.

Looking out the window, you look out onto New Domino, the blueprints reflecting onto the screen, clashing with the holographic displays outside, a stark contrast to the storm that was brewing inside the boardroom.

Face illuminated by the blue glow of the screens, your breath comes out in short, uneven bursts. Your mother reaches out, watching your handles tremble, but you yank them away before she can clasp them in hers,

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss. “Was this all a fucking joke to you? Playing with my life, my emotions, so you could turn me into some kind of laughingstock for whatever sick idea you had?”

Standing up, you clutch the the documents to your chest.

“I’m done,” you declare. If you’d asked seven years ago, maybe you would’ve have done it, so desparate to please everyone around you that you’d say yes to whatever came your way. But now you knew better than to trust anyone. It’d only end up in heartbreak, and you refused to be a part of this sick and twisted legacy.

You needed to talk to Changbin.

. . .

The soft thud of shoes at the entryway feels louder than ever, knowing that you’ve been lying on your bed for the past eight hours, willing the tears to stop. But they never did.

Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you prod your aching limbs to get up, soreness flooding your entire body when you stand. Padding softly out into the hallway, you gasp when you see Changbin there, standing solemnly against the window.

He knows you from even the quietest sound, head turning when you come up behind him. There was so much you had to talk about, so much to address. But you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

You reach behind you to grab the papers you’d stolen,and Changbin’s eyes widen with surprise when you push them in his direction, confusion marring his handsome face.

The two of you stand there while he reads, a multitude of moments passing in silence.

“I don’t get it,” he protests. “This seems like a logical progression. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“You don’t get it, do you Changbin?,” you declare firmly, doing your best to overcome the wobble in your voice. “This changes everything.”

You hear Changbin whir, temple lighting up with red, and for a moment, all there is to fill the silence is the sound of clicking and beeping. Was this it? Had Changbin finally reached his limits.

You’d been thinking about this for hours, about how to tell Changbin, how to break the news to him. You had no idea where you stood without, about how he felt after what’d you’d both shared at the lookout. And despite the thousands of theorized and calculated ways you’d thought of in your head, telling you that this didn’t matter, that it wouldn’t hurt him, you still choke back a sob.

“Don’t you understand? They want to change everything, to alter what it even means to be human? If an android can reproduce with a human, then what’s the point of marriage? What’s the point of falling in love? It all just becomes a stupid commodity, a race to see who can pop out babies the fastest, who can engineer the most perfect spawn. All the meaning from life as we know will be gone.”

Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment, hurt and confusion settling on his face.

“What are you saying ___? Look at me. Please.”

The words come out in a desperate whine, Changbin lifting your face up to his, searching your eyes for a spark of emotion, but all he finds are hollow pools of emptiness.

You take a moment to respond, knowing that what you have to say will be the end of this, will probably drive a stake through the farce that had been your marriage.

“You’ll never understand Changbin. You can simulate every single emotion and fulfill every task. Hell, even if they upgrade you and you’re somehow able to reproduce, you just won’t get it. Because you don’t know what real love is like; all you know is the substitute. And it will never be enough.”

“This isn’t fair,” Changbin chokes out, recoiling. “All I have ever done is my best. All I can ever do is my best. Why is that not enough?”

“I’m sorry,” you look at him, tears blurring your vision. “I wish it was.”

“A-are you going to deprogram me?” Changbin hums, and all of a sudden, his sensors go haywire, every single one lighting up and blinking until they devolve into chaos. Your heart lurches seeing him like this, reaching out for him, but he slaps your arm away.

“Do you know what the worst part of this is ___? It’s not you, or whatever you think you feel. Because you’ve never fucking known what you wanted. No, it’s that, for one fucking night, you had me convinced. Convinced that I was something more than just a hunk of scrap metal to you. Convinced that there was some sick, twisted part of me that actually thought you could love me. But I don’t want you to lie to yourself anymore. I want to leave.”

You don’t say a word to him as he pads out of the kitchen, slipping his coat over his shoulders and tying his shoes.

As he slips out the door, you hears his voice, so quiet that you’re almost not convinced it’s real.

“Forgive me.”

The moon shines on the dark streets, it’s gentle light almost swallowed by their neon glow. Changbin runs, heart pounding in sync with his frantic steps.

Taking in a deep breath, he watches the city melt away again, the night air becoming colder, heavier with the fog of polluted smoke, until he’s there again. The hilltop. Looking out onto the city, he marvels at how it had once been a place full of so much intensity, maybe even love. He thinks back to the feeling of your lips on his, to the way you’d gasped his name. But now he feels nothing but emptiness.

Maybe he deserved that emptiness. Maybe you were right, maybe he could never be more than what he was – an automated program. Maybe it was better that he’d never see you smile again, never get to watch you hum contentedly when you took a bite of food that you loved, that he’d never ever have the chance to even say that he loved you. Because he wanted to, not because he had to.

“Changbin?” a voice calls out to him. “Is that you?”

Turning, he watches as the lithe figure of Chan comes into view, face furrowed in confusion at the sight of an android wandering alone on the streets.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Changbin feels himself shrink, embarrassment cutting deep into him like a knife.

“I had to leave,” he feels himself heat, drive replaying the memories of his last conversation with you. “I had to go, I didn’t know what else to do–”

Changbin clenches his jaw, body tense as he fears Chan’s response, wondering if the other man will laugh at his stupidity.

Androids don’t get choices.

Surprisingly, the look on his face is one of understanding. Chan motions for Changbin to follow him, the two of them heading out into the lonely night.

. . .

The flickering lights of a warehouse come into view, casting long shadows on the ground. Changbin turns to Chan, body going rigid, and the lights cast an eerie glow on Chan’s face, the other half bathed in the darkness.

Stepping through the door, he’s surprised to find it more cosy than industrial, a clean, fresh scent overtaking his senses, one that reminded him of your apartment. It smelled like home. Something that Changbin was unsure he’d ever find.

“Come sit here, Changbin,” Chan motions to a sofa. “Now do you want to tell me what you were doing roaming around at night like that?”

“You told me once that if I decided this life wasn’t what I wanted, that if I wanted to be more than an android, there was a way out. Is that still true?” Changbin’s words sound hollow to his own ears, and he watches Chan flinch in surprise.

“You’ve heard about the project.”

Chan bristles, reaching over to wrap an arm around Changbin, pulling him into a hug, and Changbin collapses against his shoulder. He was so tired.

“It’s not about the project,” Changbin mumbles into Chan’s shoulder, and Chan pushes him away gently. If he wasn’t mistaken, Chan could almost imagine Changbin’s eyes glimmering with tears. “It’s ___.”

Changbin can’t stop the words from spilling out, and he tells Chan everything. Everything from how cold you’ve been, to those little moments of warmth he’d come to live for, ones where your exterior of ice melted into something kinder, more gentle. He tells him about that night the two of you had shared, the one where your walls had come crashing down. And how he desperately wanted them to keep coming down for him every single day. He didn’t know whether or not he was capable of love, but he wanted it with you. And yet, you didn’t feel the same. You told him you couldn’t.

Chan listens to it all, and without saying anything, stands up. Changbin looks at him despondently, wondering if he’d just made a fool of himself, but Chan motions to one of the doors, telling Changbin softly that he’ll be right back.

A few tense moments pass, and Changbin wonders if he’s been abandoned. But then Chan comes back, and he’s not alone. With him is another person, slightly shorter. His long, brown hair curls around the base of his neck, chubby cheeks wide in a huge heart-shaped smile. If Changbin didn’t see his hazel eyes, he would have also assumed that he was human, just like Chan.

Another android.

“Hello, I’m Jisung.”

Changbin’s eyes widen at Jisung in front of him, wondering what someone like him was doing here on the outskirts, where most people were too poor to own an android.

“Jisung used to be a domestic android,” Chan explains. “He worked for a family in New Domino that wasn’t very kind to him.”

“They took advantage of me,” Jisung has a far-off look in his eyes. “In many different ways. But that’s why I ran. Chan-hyung found me in a coffee-shop one day and brought me back to live with him.”

“How did you, I mean, how could you just leave like that? People need you,” Changbin is perplexed at the sight in front of him.

“Do they really?” Jisung counters. “Think about it, Changbin, what do they need us for? To make their lives easier? So they can sit back and reject every sense of responsibility they have towards others? The system we have is so flawed, and there’s so many others out there like me and you who suffer because of it.”

Chan nods his head in agreement.

“Why should you and Jisung have to pay the price for the mistakes of others? Why are you left questioning your identity, your own existence? You could be so much more in society than an end for other people’s satisfaction.”

“I make music now,” Jisung has a soft smile on his face. “Chan-hyung showed me how to use a production software, and now, I can go out to shops, walk around the neighbourhood, and use that inspiration for something beautiful. It’s not much, but it’s better than what I had to live for before.”

“Aren’t you scared, though? Of being deprogrammed, of being replaced?” Changbin can’t help the question from spilling out, his mind flashing back to how you had Hyunjin before him, and how easily you leaned into Jeongin, the employee at the clinic. Who was he compared to them?

“Life is so much more than living in fear, Changbin,” Jisung tells him. “If you just take a chance, maybe you can see that.”

And Changbin wants to believe him, to believe that he can leave this all behind, to start over again. But that would also mean leaving you behind, and that’s something he’s not sure he live with.

As if he can sense Changbin’s trepidation, Chan lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.

“You’re smarter than you think, Changbin. You’ll figure things out.”

You stare up at the ugly popcorn ceiling of the gallery. For being a space dedicated to showcasing the beauty of art, it paled in comparison to its inhabitants, cold concrete floors along with walls filled with cracks and peeling paint.

It has to be that way. Otherwise, would you even focus on the art?

The words bring a soft smile to your lips when you think of the last time you’d heard them. They ring true when you look at the painting in front of you – bold, dark colours interspersed with flecks of white. You get what the artist was trying to go for - the brightness of snow gleaming against a hillside, the snowflakes tiny pearls of brightness against the inky black backdrop of the night sky.

Lost in your study of the piece, you fail to notice the footsteps behind you, only turning when you feel a shadow loom over you.

“That one’s new,” Hyunjin says, coming to stand next to you. “Me and Yuna went to Interlaken last winter, you know I had to paint it.”

You bristle at his voice, an uncomfortable feeling bubbling in your chest. You’d always imagined this, meeting him again. What you’d say, what you’d do. Somehow, your dreams always ended with him taking you back. But now, that no longer felt right.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” you breathe out, realizing how stupid it sounds. Hyunjin literally worked there.

“I heard about the wedding. Congratulations.”

“Nothing to congratulate me for.”

“___,” Hyunjin croaks, and you stiffen at your name tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was a lot Hyunjin had to apologize for – leaving you suddenly, ending years of a relationship in one single moment, only for him to turn around and marry your best friend months later. A friend you no longer spoke to.

But it all seemed trivial now – it seemed like the past had consumed you, your demons chasing and chasing until they’d cornered you, leaving you with nowhere to run, no one to to turn to.

You’d had Changbin, and now he was gone. And you were alone, like you were always mean to be.

Your lips purse into a straight line, giving no indication that you accept Hyunjin’s apology.

“___ please, I know I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. I know it’s unforgivable. But please, you have to move on. You deserve to be loved. To have love.”

You’re unsure how much Hyunjin knows about you, or even Changbin, but the bitter regret in the his voice tells you that you weren’t the only one with wounds who’d been festering for longer than they should’ve.

“It feels like I’m trapped,” you finally admit out loud. “I’m trapped and there’s this lead weight that’s crushing me, and I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t even breathe— god, I just want to breathe, Hyun. And I lost the one person that was my chance to live again.” The words come out as sobs, Hyunjin raising a concerned eyebrow, and you shake your head, dismissing his suspicions.

“You care about him. The android.”

“Don’t call him that. He has a name.”

You bite your tongue at the grating response, mouth filling with the taste of blood. Changbin’s words from that night echo in your brain – I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

He wasn’t.

Hyunjin sees the heat rush to your face when you mention him, the way your entire being changes – your once despondent body coming alive with emotion. And he knows that what you felt for him will never compare to now. Fate had steered you on opposite courses, your destiny intertwined with Changbin’s, his with Yuna’s.

“You know what you have to do then,” are his last words to you before you hear his boots tap against the cold concrete, walking away.

. . . .

The abandoned railway station lay forgotten at the edge of the city, a silent witness to years of decay. The iron tracks were tangled in weeds, and the once-bustling platform was now a graveyard of rusted metal and cracked concrete. The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows, painting the scene in shades of orange and gray.

Changbin feels the cold metal of the bench against his back, and cards his fingers through his hair. He wonders if the disheveled strands, or the stains and threabare seams of his clothes, make him look more real. More human.

Holding the flyer in his hands, he stares at the face on it, in disbelief that it was once his face. So composed, so put together. So much had changed since then.

Finding Jisung and Chan had been a blessing, but it wasn’t enough. The emptiness remained, filled with thoughts of you, and he wonders if he’ll ever see you again. Whether you even thought of him.

The hum of an approaching vehicle broke the oppressive silence. Changbin’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw headlights cutting through the dusk.

They’d found him. He had to run.

Miroh Labs had always been a prison – your prison. A cold, glowing fortress against the backdrop of New Domino, a place once full of so much promise. The place where you thought you’d prove yourself. But now it was time to let it go.

Chan is waiting for you at the entrance, lips parted in surprise when he sees you approaching. You don’t blame him for thinking that you’d bail. The plan had come together in mere hours, chaos unfolding the moment you’d returned to your apartment, going through every paper, every file as to how you could set your plan in motion.

Somehow, Chan seemed like a person you could trust. You briefly remember Changbin mentioning how Chan had been the first one to see him, shocked at how many of the little details about his presence you’d actually committed to memory.

It scared you, putting your heart and life on the line like this. But it had to be worth it – for the chance to live again, to love again.

“You ready for this?” Chan asked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your mess of emotions. His eyes glinted curiously in against the backdrop of darkness. voice steady and reassuring.

You nodded, full of determination. It was now or never.

“I am. I’ll take care of the security systems. You get to the servers.”

Chan gives a quick nod, before disappearing into the building.

You freeze, realizing you should have asked Chan if he knew anything about Changbin, where he was, what he was doing. You just had to hope this worked, and that you would be able to later. That was the only way.

The maze of the building is one you slip through easily, the long, dark hallways familiar to you from years of roaming around. You knew every door, where every secret was hidden. And how to shut it all down.

Fingers dancing across the keypad, you find the one you’re looking for. Booting up the system, the lights from the screens bathe the room in an eerie glow, and you begin to type.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered to yourself, eyes darting between the screen and the shadows outside. “Almost there…”

Your phone pings to life with a text — shoulders sagging with relief when you see it’s from Chan.

At the servers. Starting data extraction now.

You shoot a reply back quickly – two mins and i’ll initiate the shutdown sequence.

The two minutes pass by in agony, heart pounding out of your chest at the feeling that you could be caught at any time, that this could end.

The lab’s lights began to flicker and dim, casting an eerie glow over the deserted corridors. It worked.

You tiptoe silently out of the room, breaking into a run when you hear the sirens. You run and you run until you’re far enough away, Chan waiting for you a few blocks away.

“We did it,” he smiles, teeth glinting in the moonlight. “We got what we needed.”

He pauses when he sees you tremble, sobs wracking your entire body. You don’t know why the tears started, but they refused to stop when you think about everything – about how you’d just destroyed your family’s entire future, about how you were free, about Changbin.

His name slips from your lips without even thinking, and Chan freezes.

You hold your breath momentarily, waiting for the bad news to come. But all Chan does is let out a deep sigh of relief, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Come with me.”

When Changbin wakes, it’s like the first time all over again. Senses assaulted by a bright light, fear strikes him in the worst way possible. How long had it been since he powered down? Weeks? Months? Had he been captured? Was this the end?

His systems go haywire with the possibilities, until he feels something. A breeze, ruffling his hair. He was outside.

The abandoned train station materializes amidst the fog of his muddled senses, his fingertips coming away with rust when he brushes them against the old, dilapidated bench. Relief washes over him. He was okay. He’d live another day.

The crunching of gravel startles him from his reverie, and he feels someone plop down next to him on the bench.

Turning to meet his company, he nearly short-circuits when he sees you, face illuminated by the sun’s rays. You’re smiling. At him.

Changbin tries to form a coherent thought, but everything is jumbled and clunky. The sun. The air. You. You. You.

You offer him something, and he pales when he sees it, an earbud extended to him.

“I need you to listen to something,” you say softly, and his hands shake as he accepts it, watching you hit play.

The first few melodious notes ring in his ears, and a shiver goes down his spine when he realizes what you’d chosen to show him.

Like a streetlight, like a streetlight

At the end of a lonely day, standing vacantly

In the middle of the lonely night, I try my best to smile brightly

It was the song he’d been working on with Jisung and Chan, the first thing he’d had of his own. The first step he’d taken to becoming himself, to becoming just Changbin. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the music, a tear slipping out at the last few notes, when he feels the weight of your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Changbin,” you sigh, voice wavering, whisper so low he can barely hear it among the reverberations of the final note.

“I want to fix this,” you say again, more resolutely this time, turning so his forehead meets yours. And you feel the dam break, tears flooding both of you as you collapse against each other.

“Wherever you’re going, I want to come with you. I want to show you that you’re more than enough. Because you showed me the same. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

Changbin nods, his tears mingling with a smile of hope.

“The song. It’s for you. It’s for us. For what we had and what we can still have. I can prove it to you.”

“You don’t need to prove anything, Changbin. You’ve done enough.”

And he had. Somehow, despite having no heart of his own, he’d managed to re-start yours, to show you that you didn’t have to live in the city’s shadows, under the iron grip of your past. That you could be more.

Hope fills your chest – it’s bright and vivid, the force of your love for Changbin knocking you back like a supernova.

Changbin’s fingers brush away the tears on your cheek, shining in the sunlight, and his gaze drops to your lips. You don’t know who leans in first, the next thing you feel being the soft press of his lips to yours. The skin is slightly chapped, but you melt into his touch anyway.

Soon the kiss becomes heated, the roughness of Changbin’s jeans dragging against your thighs as you push yourself onto his lap, prodding the seam of his lips with your tongue.

Here with Changbin, you realize you’d never really been weak at all. Neither of you had. Not like the world saw both of you.

Resonance. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – the ability that you and Changbin now possessed to know whatever the world threw at you, wherever it took you next, you’d come out of it choosing each other every time.

a/n pt. 2: they are totally fucking after this btw (i don't make the rules)! all jokes aside, I'm so sorry if this sucks. I genuinely haven't written anything plot driven in over 8 months so I know there was a lot more I could have done and improved on. If you read this, thank you for giving it (and me) a chance. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @jellyleggz

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pretzel-box · 9 months ago

Text

Tags: Established Relationship, Slight Fluff, Domestic Life Style, Hallucinations, Lucid Dreaming, Paranoia and Angst. Also a tiny bit of violence.

Words: 2,6k

The smell of freshly prepared pancakes wafted through the house, mingling with the divine aroma of coffee and blueberry muffins. It was breakfast time—the most important meal of the day, essential for keeping the mind sharp and the body energized.

This was one of the rare occasions Sebastian experienced such a meal, seated at a fine mahogany table set with golden cutlery and a plate of his own. He squeezed himself into the cramped living space, just large enough to fit him halfway comfortably, though his tail still extended into the living room. The golden utensils felt weightless in his hand, the fork seeming almost comically small as he picked it up. He paused, glancing up.

The clock with its silvery frame, hanging on the wall, ticked softly, showing 11:11 AM. A bit late for breakfast, Sebastian thought.

Then you stepped into the kitchen, wearing a comfortable ocean-blue apron with a bird pattern on the front. You held a small kitchen knife between your fingers, ready to slice the fresh vegetables you must have just picked up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your voice so sweet it almost rivaled the sugar-coated food on the table.

He could swear, his heart just skipped a beat. It was followed by a kiss on his neck, right between his shoulder.

It only took three things: breakfast, the small comforts scattered around the room, and you, to remind him that he was safe now—living in your home until you both could afford something bigger. Somehow, you two always managed.

The radio crackled to life, filling the space with soft background noise, just like you always preferred during breakfast.

And then, you ate together.

The morning sun streamed through the windows as you shared a quiet breakfast. Sebastian ate slowly, savoring each bite, though still not entirely used to the normalcy of it all. You chatted between bites, your laughter occasionally filling the air, though he remained mostly quiet, content just listening to your voice.

After breakfast, the day unfolded in its familiar routine. Sebastian took to the chores without needing to be asked. He collected the dishes and brought them to the sink, the sound of running water filling the kitchen as he carefully scrubbed each plate and cup. His hands moved methodically, enjoying the repetition of the task. There was something satisfying about watching the bubbles form and then disappear, the dishes gleaming clean beneath his fingers.

Once the dishes were done, he moved to sweep and mop the floor, his tail brushing softly against the corners of the room as he worked. It was something he excelled at—cleaning. Each stroke of the mop was deliberate, leaving the floor spotless and gleaming under the light. He took his time, making sure no spot was missed. The rhythm of his movements was almost therapeutic, grounding him in the routine you had created together.

While you kept him from venturing outside due to the risk of running into too many people, Sebastian didn’t mind. He found comfort in the quiet tasks around the house, feeling useful in a way that kept him from thinking too much. Watering the plants was next. He carried the small watering can through the house, carefully tending to each plant you had nurtured. He had learned their schedules—when each one needed a bit more or less water, and which ones preferred more sunlight. The leaves glistened with droplets by the time he finished, the greenery adding life to the small space.

Meanwhile, you busied yourself with tasks outside. From the window, he could see you trimming the bushes with a precision that matched his own care inside. The flowers you had planted were in full bloom, their vibrant colors adding a lively contrast to the house's neutral tones. He watched as you watered them, your apron fluttering lightly in the breeze, your movements as fluid as his own.

You hung laundry out to dry, each piece flapping gently in the wind. Occasionally, you'd glance back toward the window, offering him a soft smile, which he always returned with a quiet nod. He knew you handled the outside tasks because it was easier that way, avoiding the complications of him being seen. And though he longed to be outside with you, to feel the sun on his skin, he understood. It was safer this way, and he was grateful for the life you had created together, even if it was within the confines of your small home.

By the time you returned from shopping, arms full of groceries, Sebastian had already finished his tasks for the day. The house was spotless, the plants were watered, and everything felt in order. You gave him a playful look, shaking your head as he reached out to help with the bags.

“I’ve got it,” you said with a grin, though he still managed to take a few from your hands. Together, you put away the groceries, slipping back into the easy rhythm you had both grown accustomed to, a dance of quiet understanding.

Though your space was small, and the outside world seemed just out of reach, there was a sense of peace here. You two managed. You always did.

Then you two would sleep, only to wake up for the next day.

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, still groggy, but the enticing smell of fresh pancakes, his favorite blend of coffee, and blueberry muffins quickly pulled him from sleep. A smile crept onto his face as he peeked into the kitchen, his heart light at the sight of the familiar setup. Though you weren’t in sight yet, his attention was drawn to his seat at the table, where golden cutlery and his own plate waited for him. The clock on the wall ticked softly, showing 11:11, the rhythmic sound almost lulling him into a daydream.

Just then, you appeared, breaking the spell. You walked into the kitchen with a soft smile, wearing that blue apron with little birds, carrying a basket full of fresh fruits. The sight of you always made him feel at home, a reminder of the routine you'd built together. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, you always said, and adding healthy fruits made it all the better.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted sweetly, your voice as warm as the smell of pancakes in the air. Then his kiss followed, placed on his skin between the neck and the shoulder. After that, you moved with practiced ease, grabbing a kitchen knife and quickly slicing the fruits into neat pieces, your hands steady as you filled a bowl with the colorful mixture.

You placed the bowl in front of Sebastian, the freshly cut fruit adding to the already enticing spread on the table. He mumbled a quiet thank you, still a little sleepy but content. As you turned to flick on the radio, the soft hum of music filled the room, adding that comforting background noise you always preferred during meals.

After breakfast, the day moved into its usual rhythm. Sebastian quietly took to his chores, starting with the dishes. As he reached for the sponge, he noticed the water was cold, the warmth from earlier long gone. He frowned slightly but didn’t complain, plunging his hands into the chilly water, the suds forming weakly as he scrubbed each plate. His fingers worked with precision, despite the cold bite of the water, and the familiar routine grounded him.

Once the dishes were neatly stacked to dry, he moved to the floors. There were wet spots scattered around the house, remnants of water splashes and humidity. He picked up the mop and began moving it across the floor, the soft swish of the mop head the only sound breaking the quiet. The floor seemed more slippery today, perhaps from the condensation that clung to the windows or the moisture that had snuck in overnight. Sebastian worked with steady focus, making sure each corner was spotless, soaking up every last drop of water before it could cause any accidents.

As he mopped away the dampness, he glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of you outside, tending to the garden. The sound of the radio played faintly in the background, still giving the house that soft, comforting hum. You were hanging laundry now, the colorful clothes flapping gently in the breeze. You looked peaceful, and even from inside, Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Once the floor was dry and gleaming, Sebastian set the mop aside. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel, satisfied with the way the house was starting to feel in order again. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was something he could do to help. He couldn’t go outside like you did—too many people, too many risks—but here, within these four walls, he could contribute. And that was enough for now.

The day had slipped by quickly, leaving Sebastian to drift into sleep beside you, only to be gently pulled from his dreams the next morning by the familiar scent of freshly prepared pancakes and coffee. And then, that unmistakable divine aroma of blueberry muffins. It never failed to get him out of bed.

In an instant, he found himself moving toward the kitchen, eyes lighting up as he admired the spread of food on the table. Right there, next to his plate, the golden cutlery gleamed in the soft morning light. Breakfast was easily one of his favorite parts of the day—not just for the food, but for the way it filled him with energy and set the tone for the rest of the day. More than anything, it was because he got to share that peaceful moment with you.

The clock on the wall showed 11:11, ticking softly in the background. The rhythmic sound was almost hypnotic, but before he could fall into another daydream, you entered the room. You wore your usual blue apron with the birds, a familiar sight that always brought a sense of comfort. This time, you held a basket full of fresh meat, setting it down near the kitchen knife.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted with a soft smile, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his skin. It was the kind of gentle affection that made his mornings brighter. "I picked up some meat for lunch—it was on sale."

Before sitting down, you walked over and turned on the radio, filling the room with a soothing background melody. With the quiet music accompanying your soft conversation, the two of you sat down to eat. You shared small talk, laughter filling the space as naturally as the morning sunlight.

When breakfast ended, it was time to tackle the day’s tasks once again, but those moments spent together over the meal made everything else feel lighter, even the inevitable chores that followed.

After breakfast, Sebastian moved to the kitchen to start his usual chores. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the radio in the background. He turned on the faucet to wash the dishes, expecting the familiar warmth, but the water was cold again, colder than it should be. His fingers tingled as he scrubbed the plates, the icy water making the task feel more tedious than usual. He couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the rhythm of cleaning.

Once the dishes were done, he grabbed the mop and made his way around the house. His eyes caught something unusual—dark red liquid pooled in scattered patches across the floor, smeared slightly as though it had been dragged by something. His heart skipped a beat, but he told himself it was probably nothing. Maybe it was just juice, or some spilled wine from the night before, though neither of you had drunk anything like that recently.

He moved quickly, mopping away the dark stains, but the uneasy feeling clung to him, growing heavier with each stroke of the mop. The house felt darker than usual. The curtains were all drawn, casting deep shadows across the room. He hesitated for a moment before stepping toward the nearest window. The thick fabric of the curtains felt unnaturally heavy as he pulled them open.

Instead of the familiar view of the garden outside, Sebastian was met with a scene that made his blood run cold. On the other side of the glass was a dimly lit hall, stretching far into the distance, filled with looming submarines and figures in hazmat suits. The people moved methodically, their faces obscured by the opaque visors of their suits. They didn’t seem to notice him, but the sight alone was enough to make his heart race.

For a moment, Sebastian stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t his home. Panic welled up inside him, and without thinking, he quickly let go of the curtains, letting them fall back into place. He turned around, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Sebastian’s head shot up, startled. His gaze locked onto you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. You were wearing that familiar blue apron, but something was wrong. The little birds that used to adorn it were gone, replaced by the stark, cold logo of Urbanshade sitting squarely on your chest. In your hand, you wielded a kitchen knife, casually slicing through a lump of white flesh.

“Breakfast is ready, and you're just standing there... Still spooked by a nightmare?” you asked, your tone sweet but unnervingly calm.

His heart pounded in his chest as he moved closer to you, his feet almost betraying him, as if they were drawn forward by some invisible force. You gently pulled him into the kitchen, guiding him to his usual seat. The cutlery was silver this time, not gold like it had been before, but it still rested beside his plate, polished and perfect. The table was covered in food that smelled familiar and warm—pancakes, coffee, blueberry muffins—but the air felt off.

You sat down across from him after turning on the radio, filling the silence with faint static. His eyes flicked to the clock. 11:11. A bit late for breakfast, isn't it?

He reached for a muffin, the warmth of the room doing little to calm the eerie chill that crept up his spine. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a bite, expecting the comforting taste of blueberries. Instead, his mouth filled with something cold, tasteless, and wrong. The texture wasn’t soft or sweet, but rubbery.

He glanced down in horror. The muffin was gone. In its place was the same lump of white flesh you had been cutting earlier. Panic surged through him, and he gagged, dropping it instantly. Without thinking, he jumped up, rushing to the sink, bile rising in his throat.

“Not tasty?” Your voice was right behind him now, soft and teasing. “I baked them with love. Or maybe you're just upset I haven’t given you your good morning kiss?”

His hands gripped the edge of the sink as he fought to steady his breathing. He could hear your footsteps, soft but deliberate. Before he could react, you were behind him, leaning in. Your fingers slid through his hair, your touch cold, freezing even. Your lips brushed against the back of his neck, sending a shiver through his entire body.

Then, without warning, you sank your teeth into his flesh.

Sebastian jolted awake, his body trembling. He wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. He was lying on a bed of wet, glowing moss, his breath ragged as he blinked, trying to get his bearings. The familiar, sterile walls of that cursed underwater facility surrounded him. His hand instinctively went to his neck, feeling the tender, raw spot where the teeth had sunk in, the memory of the pain still fresh.

In the distance, he heard footsteps—a wall dweller, scurrying away from him, the sound echoing through the halls. He sat up, the realization sinking in. Had that thing really taken a bite out of him?

Sebastian took a mental note. Staying in the moss for too long wasn’t healthy.

#sebastian solace #roblox pressure #pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader

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clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles · 8 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

>>>[ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ]<<<

Several days passed by after the incident. (Y/Cyb/N) sat by the window of his secret room, watching the streets of Iacon below. It was bustling with excitement.

Today was the Iacon 5000, the largest race on Cybertron, and bots from all over the planet would gather to witness it. The thought of it made his spark pulse faster. He had seen the races on the holo-vids, but he had never been there, never been allowed to stand among the crowd and feel the raw energy of the event.

“I want to go,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

He had asked his parents earlier, but they refused, as always. "Too dangerous," his sire had said. "Too public. Someone might see your insignia."

(Y/Cyb/N) looked down at his reflection in the glass. The insignia, a mark of his Codex lineage, was hidden beneath his shawl. A dull ache spread through him—an ache he could not express.

He wanted to be normal and part of Cybertronian society, not hidden away like some dangerous secret.

This afternoon, he would sneak out.

The plan formed in his mind. His parents would be busy working in the upper part of the building, far away from his room. He had memorized their routine and absence and knew there was a window when he could leave unnoticed.

The excitement of the Iacon 5000 pulsed through the air like a current, and (Y/Cyb/N) could feel it from even this high up in his secluded room. The roar of engines, the cheers of the crowd—it was all just out of reach, but the idea of watching the race in person filled him with a longing he couldn’t shake.

He glanced at the door to his room, his optics narrowing with determination. His parents meant well, but how much longer could he live like this—hidden away, confined to secret rooms and whispers? He wasn’t just a relic of the past, a walking Codex secret. He was alive, a part of Cybertron, and today, he would prove that to himself.

"I have to," he murmured, standing up and pulling the shawl tighter around him, ensuring the insignia was securely hidden. His helm, tilted as usual to keep the shawl in place, gave him a sense of comfort, like a second shield.

The plan unfolded quickly. He knew his parents would be occupied with their work for at least another hour. That was enough time to get to the streets below and find an excellent spot to blend into the crowd.

His spark pulsed faster at the thought of being out there—among the other Cybertronians and spectators cheering for the racers. For once, he would just be one of them. No hiding, no running from his past. Just a part of the energy that flowed through Cybertron’s heart.

(Y/Cyb/N) made his way to the hidden exit in his room, a small hatch his parents had constructed as a secondary escape route in case of emergencies. Today, it would serve a different purpose. He pried it open, casting one last look around his room before slipping into the dark tunnel behind it.

He moved quickly, his spark racing as fast as the engines outside. Each step brought him closer to the streets of Iacon, to freedom, to the race. When he finally reached the bottom, he could hear the distant hum of the city and the crowds gathered for the event.

He pushed the hatch open, emerging into an alleyway just a few blocks from the main racetrack. The streets were already packed with Cybertronians of all shapes and sizes, their voices blending into a cacophony of excitement and anticipation. (Y/Cyb/N) Pulling his shawl tighter, ensuring his insignia was still hidden, he stepped out into the crowd.

It was overwhelming—everything he had dreamed of and more. The sights, the sounds, the sheer life of it all. For a moment, he was just another Cybertronian, lost in the sea of bots, no one paying him any special attention. He could almost feel normal.

Slipping past the security had been surprisingly easy with the help of his Algorithms. Cynatcher allowed him to manipulate the structure of the walls, creating small crevices to pass through unnoticed. Binary Foolery had been equally helpful, creating temporary illusions to distract any surveillance systems.

He found a spot near the edge of the racetrack, where the engines roared to life as the racers prepared for the start. His optics gleamed excitedly as he watched the gleaming racers line up, their frames sleek and built for speed. The crowd's energy was contagious, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/Cyb/N) felt free.

(Y/Cyb/N) could feel the energy of the Iacon 5000 race long before he even arrived. The roaring engines, the thrumming excitement of the crowd, and the spectacle of speed drew him in like a magnet. He had always dreamed of seeing it in person—just one chance to experience it outside the shadow of his origins, the weight of secrecy, and the watchful eyes of his creators. The scene was exactly how he would have imagined.

But he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his optic—a pair of Cybertronian guards in the distance, observing the crowd. They weren’t here for the race; they were scanning the spectators, searching for something—or someone.

His spark skipped a beat. Could they be council agents? Were they looking for him?

His heart pounded as he turned away, blending further into the crowd. He couldn’t let them see him. Not now. Not when he had just tasted freedom.

"Transformers! Transform and get on your marks for the race!" The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, signaling the start of the race. His train of thought was snapped out when he heard the signal.

Engines revved, and the Cybertronians below him transformed into their alt modes. "On your marks!" The announcer continued, the light turning from red to yellow. "Get set…" He paused, waiting for the light to turn green.

*DING!*

*PEW!*

The announcer shot a laser on the signal, signaling the racers to go.

*ZOOM!*

The racers shot forward, a blur of metal and energy. The ground vibrated beneath his feet as the racers zoomed past, and (Y/Cyb/N) couldn’t help but grin, the thrill of the race filling his spark.

For a moment, he forgot about his insignia, lineage, and the dangers that lurked around every corner. Here, in this crowd, he was just another bot, caught up in the excitement of the race. Like any other Cybertronian, he wanted a closer look to witness the thrill.

He moved through the stands. His optics caught sight of a racer—a silver-plated Cybertronian with an impressive speed record—making a sharp turn on the track. The sight was so mesmerizing that he almost didn’t notice when his dodecahedron necklace slipped from his grasp.

Panic shot through him as he bent to pick it up, his servos moving quickly. It tumbled through the crowd with a soft tinkering noise. (Y/Cyb/n) had to shuffle through the crowd quickly, not wanting to see his necklace bounce down into the race. Just before it could bounce out of the stands, (Y/Cyb/N)’s servo shot up to catch it, grasping it quickly.

*SWOOOSH…!*

The race was finished, with the Transformers crossing the finish line. (Y/Cyb/n) sighed with relief, retracting his servo as he secured his dodecahedron necklace around his neck.

But at that moment, a gust of wind tore through the stands, lifting his shawl. The fabric flew down, revealing his helm—and worse, his insignia.

The symbol of the Codexes.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s spark froze as he felt the cool air hit his exposed frame. Panic surged through him. In that instant, the excitement of the race and the thrill of freedom vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. His optics darted to the crowd around him, searching for any sign someone had noticed.

So far, none of them had noticed—

"Hey! Look! There's a Codex here!"

The crowd’s cheers slowly fell into a stunned silence as hundreds of optics turned toward him. The trans-mech stood frozen, the cold weight of reality crashing down on him. The dodecahedron outline with the Mercedes star within it shimmered in the sunlight, unmistakable against the metal of his frame.

A murmur spread through the stands like wildfire, and soon, it became more than just murmurs and whispers.

"Is that…"

"Wait… it can't be!"

"That insignia… I recognize it!"

"Hold on… aren't they supposed to be erased!?"

"No way. No way! The Codexes—"

"A Codex!? HERE!?"

Shocked expressions gave way to fear, awe, and, worst of all, suspicion. The council had erased the history of the Codexes, labeling them dangerous, but to see one standing there, in the middle of the Iacon 5000, was a spectacle none of them had expected.

(Y/Cyb/N) felt his spark pound in his chest. His instincts screamed for him to run, but he stayed rooted in place for a split second, the weight of countless optics pressing down on him.

The Cybertronian guards stationed near the edge of the stands noticed that everyone had stopped cheering and was staring at something or someone. They looked in the same direction everyone was looking, and their gazes eventually landed on him.

Their optics locked onto (Y/Cyb/N)’s exposed insignia. Recognition sparked in the guards' gaze, and (Y/Cyb/N) could almost hear the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Move,

his mind commanded, and he bolted.

In the chaos, (Y/Cyb/N) grabbed his shawl and dashed through the crowd, his Algorithms working overtime. Cerulean Warp allowed him to open sea green-colored short-range portals, moving him quickly from one point to another, leaving the race.

But the guards were already on high alert. Shouts and commands blared as he leaped over barriers and darted through alleyways, the sound of metallic footsteps closing in on him.

His helm was now fully lopsided without the shawl on him, making it harder to maintain his balance, but he pushed through. His servos clenched around the dodecahedron necklace, the one piece of his identity that had been with him since the beginning.

The guards were getting closer—there were more of them than he'd anticipated. They knew now. They knew he existed.

"[DETERMINED] I can’t let them catch me… not like this," he muttered. Octo Hex came to his rescue, allowing him to create small bursts of force to knock over objects in his path—crates, metal pylons, anything to slow them down.

He turned a sharp corner and spotted a service tunnel just ahead. If he could just make it inside—

*BANG!*

*CLANG!*

A loud clang echoed as a guard fired a stun round, missing him by inches. (Y/Cyb/N) tumbled into the tunnel, his servo slipping on the slick floor as he scrambled to his pedes. His algorithms were tiring him, and his defects made it harder to focus.

He ran deeper into the tunnels with all his might, but he could hear the guards still in pursuit, their voices echoing off the metallic walls. "We have a Codex! Secure the perimeter! Do not let him escape!"

Panting heavily, (Y/Cyb/N) activated Saboteur Catalyst, overriding the lock system of the tunnel doors ahead of him. The doors slid open just in time for him to slip through before sealing shut behind him with a satisfying thud.

For now, he was safe. But the realization hit him like a heavy weight—his insignia had been seen.

His secret was out.

And all optics would soon be on him. There was no going back to hiding in the shadows.

Once erased from Cybertron’s history, the Codexes were now a reality again, and he was at the center of it all.

He had to get back home. He had to return to his creators in the tower—(Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N). He knew they would be mad, but he just wanted to prove he wanted to be independent. Shaking off his worries, he quickly put the shawl over his helm, hiding his face under the shadows and masking his insignia.

He quickly looked around, finding himself in an alleyway. It was only a matter of time before they began to try and locate him. He stepped out, seeing people still going on about their business. He tugged on his shawl, quietly rushing past the Cybertronians and avoiding guards walking around the place.

His spark was still racing as he moved swiftly through the back streets of Iacon, his shawl once again covering his insignia. The thrill of the Iacon 5000 was far behind him now, replaced with the crushing reality of his exposure. His awkwardly tilted helm reminded him of his disheveled state as he maneuvered through the bustling city.

As he weaved through the crowded alleys, his thoughts were in turmoil. How could he have been so careless? All it took was one slip, one moment of excitement, for his secret to be revealed. The emblem of the Codexes—a symbol that could get him captured, imprisoned, or worse. Now that it had been seen, there was no telling what the council might do.

He felt a deep pang of regret as he thought of his creators, (Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N). They had repeatedly warned him, yet he had ignored their caution. Now, he was on the run, and the council would surely be looking for him. They might even come after his parents if they thought they were involved.

His optics darted around, searching for any sign of danger as he neared the more familiar streets closer to home. He passed Cybertronians chatting about the race, oblivious to the panic inside him. If they knew the truth about him, they'd be just as terrified as the crowd back at the track.

Still, something gnawed at him. For a moment, in the middle of that race, he had felt alive—free. The cheers, the crowd's energy, the racers' speed—it was everything he'd dreamed of. But the price of that freedom was too high.

As (Y/Cyb/N) ducked into a smaller alleyway, he activated Cynatcher again to blend into the surrounding structures. He reached a part of the wall that opened into another secret passage leading back to his family's tower. His spark pounded as he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a quiet hiss. His home's cold, sterile corridors felt different now—less like a safe haven and more like a cage.

He made his way through the dimly lit hallways, his shawl still securely in place. When he reached his room, he hesitated. What would his creators say? They had spent countless cycles hiding him, keeping him safe, and now he'd ruined it all in one careless moment.

He stepped back into the shadows, his spark heavy with guilt. He wasn’t ready to face them, not yet. Instead, he retreated further down the corridor, slipping into a hidden corner of the tower where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He had tasted the world outside, but now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had changed. The council was hunting him, his secret was out, and the future he had always feared was now a reality.

We're family.

The words of his own when he spoke to his carrier and sire about telling them they should not keep any more secrets from each other. He chose not to contradict his vow.

With a sigh, he proceeded to open the door. The soft hydraulic hiss was released upon entry.

"[GUILT] Sire, Carrier, I have something to confess—"

His words trailed off immediately. He expected to find his creators talking to each other and be shocked when they saw him. However, he found the hidden room empty. Were his creators looking for him? Where were they?

He stepped in slowly, noting how nothing in the house had changed as much. "Sire? Carrier?" He checked their room, seeing how several objects were a bit scattered. They must've heard the news and perhaps left in a rush…

"[WORRIED]." (Y/Cyb/n) muttered, reflexively narrating his concern for his creators as he closed the door of his creators' room. "I wonder—"

*FWIP!*

"—MMMPH!"

His self-talk was cut off when he felt a gag wrapped over his mouth from behind. His servos flickered with the emblem. He attempted to use his Octo Hex Algorithm to generate a large red octagon screen and punch the living daylights out of the intruder.

*Skank!*

However, band-cuffs were immediately placed on him, and the Octo Hex Algorithm faded quickly. (Y/Cyb/n) felt his powers suddenly suppressed and held back by the device, unable to activate them anymore. It was nullified.

The High-tech, sleek, compact device is worn like a band around the user's wrists. It emits an invisible signal that disrupts his connection to his technokinetic abilities, temporarily nullifying the power.

"I got him!" It was one of the guards. "Algorithmic Override cuffs are on him. He's not able to use his ability anymore."

The sudden ambush left (Y/Cyb/N) stunned and immobilized. The guards who had captured him were swift and efficient, their optics hidden behind visors that revealed nothing of their intentions. The Algorithmic Override cuffs, designed to suppress his abilities, were a new and menacing addition to the arsenal against him.

The gag muffled his initial cry for help, and as he struggled against his restraints, the guards began securing the area. Panic surged within him, mingled with the residual thrill of the race he had just witnessed. His mind raced, trying to devise a plan to escape or at least understand what was happening.

“Secure the perimeter,” one of the guards instructed through their comms. “We have the Codex. Prepare for extraction.”

The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city and the occasional clink of metal from the guards as they prepared their equipment. (Y/Cyb/N) tried to focus, pushing past the fear and despair. His creators, (Y/S/N) and (Y/C/N), had to be nearby, and he needed to find a way to warn them or at least ensure their safety.

Through his muffled struggle, he heard one of the guards talking about the Codex’s significance, but the exact words were lost to his gagged condition. The mention of his insignia seemed to heighten the urgency of their actions.

His servos clenched as he tried to think. He had seen his insignia and understood that the council’s decision to erase the Codexes was now a precarious reality. His creators' lives were at stake, and he had to ensure they were safe.

The guards began to escort him out, their grip firm and unyielding. As they led him through the dim corridors, (Y/Cyb/N) tried to recall the tower's layout, hoping to find some means of escape or communication. He needed to warn his creators and find a way to evade the council's clutches.

One of the guards, a smaller and less imposing figure, glanced at him with a hint of curiosity. "Do you think he knows something we don't?"

The lead guard responded with a dismissive tone. "Doesn't matter. We have our orders."

*PING!*

(Y/Cyb/n)'s audio receptors picked up a soft 'ping' sound effect. He glanced down, noticing a small orange emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper on his cuffs. "Hmm?" He blinked, surprised and confused.

*FWIP!*

A muffled yelp left his intake. His wrists were yanked into the air by the cuffs pulled upward by the Quadirectional Keeper.

The sudden movement took aback the guards flanking his sides. They both looked up, seeing him stationary in the air because of a Quadirectional Keeper Algorithm wedged between the cuffs, the square keeping hold.

"What the!? Impossible!"

"H-He's cuffed! He shouldn't be able to use—"

*ZIP!*

(Y/Cyb/n) was pulled back down the hall, caught into another pair of arms. He glanced up, recognizing it was his sire and carrier. He was happy they came to save him, but he was also terrified because the protective rage in their optics was visibly implacable.

“We told you not to leave the tower!” His sire scolded him. He held his right servo up, which had the emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper hovering over his servo.

“We’re not mad, just disappointed,” his carrier added, letting (Y/S/N) break off the cuffs with the Octo Hex Algorithm. “We’ve figured out you would’ve done that.” (Y/C/N) used her Cynatcher Algorithm and bent the gag off her son’s intake.

“[EXASPERATED SIGH]” (Y/Cyb/n) narrowed his optics at them. “Sorry, but I wanted to see the race. I didn’t care about whether I was caught or not, but I wanted to enjoy it instead of staying cooped up in place!”

“We understand.” His carrier sighed with concern and fear. “But we just—”

“Explanations can come later! We need to escape!” (Y/S/N) interjected, grabbing a random crate with the orange-colored Algorithm and chucking it at the guards.

*SMACK!*

One of them sidestepped as the metal box knocked down the other guard. Pressing into the comm unit, he exclaimed, “There are two more Codexes here! Requesting backup! I repeat, requesting—”

*CLANK!*

He was cut off as (Y/Cyb/n)’s sire used the Quadirectional Keeper Algorithm to use the same metal crate and knock out the guard.

The tension in the hall heightened as the unconscious guard slumped to the ground. (Y/Cyb/N) glanced at his creators, heart pounding after the brief skirmish. The danger was far from over, and the realization that they were being actively hunted by the council struck him hard.

"[DETERMINATION]." (Y/Cyb/N) reflexively narrated his emotion, his optics narrowing as his processors raced through possible escape routes. The escape had to be swift, and they couldn't afford any more delays.

His sire, (Y/S/N), looked at him, the intensity in his optics unwavering. "We need to get you out of here now before reinforcements arrive. They won't stop until you're locked away—until we're locked away."

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, his gaze darting between his creators. "I know. But they were prepared for this—they had these weird cuffs—Algorithmic Override cuffs. It seems to disable our abilities with the Algorithm."

His carrier, (Y/C/N), who had always been the more cautious of the two, placed a servo on his shoulder. "That's why we need to stick together. There's no room for error, not anymore."

(Y/S/N) glanced at their room, where their door was opened. “Hold on.” He quickly rushed inside the room before pulling out a box. There were many different single-hand-held weapons.

"(Y/C/N), take this." He tossed her a handgun, which she grabbed swiftly, loading the stun gun. He grabbed a long-bladed sword, which spun smoothly in his servo. "(Y/Cyb/n), here's something special I had made for you." Finally, he picked up a short-bladed knife and threw it to (Y/Cyb/n), who caught it quickly.

The Laser-Blade is a state-of-the-art weapon seamlessly combines the efficiency and versatility of a cyberknife with the precision and power of a laser gun.

It is a sleek, compact device reminiscent of a futuristic wrist-mounted device. It features an integrated laser sight, LED interface screen, and ergonomic grip for optimal handling. It has a sleek metallic design with glowing blue accents around its barrel.

The laser gun is located on top of the device, and the cyberknife is attached to the bottom of the weapon. The laser beam can be shot from the top of the device to attack opponents. The cyberknife is located below and is used for close combat encounters. The Cyberblade is a powerful and versatile weapon.

"Come on, we got to move down the tower." (Y/C/N) gestured, the other two Cybertronains following her down the halls. "We're on the 18th floor of this 24-story building. The sooner we make it down here and out of this place, we'll find a safer place."

"But where?" (Y/S/N) inquired. "I don't know if we're going to be able to step a pede outside from a sanctuary—if we can find one!" He grunted, the trio going down a flight of stairs.

"We'll just go to the surface!" She remarked. "No one adventures there, but we did once before when our clan was still around. If we can do it once, we can do it again—"

"[ALARMED] Look out!"

*PEW!*

(Y/C/N) sidestepped the moment (Y/Cyb/n) warned his carrier from a stun round. The laser hit the wall behind her, narrowly missing (Y/S/N). In front of them, the trio was confronted by a group of masked Cybertronian guards, their stun weapons and cuffs ready to detain them with no mercy or sympathy.

"(Y/S/N)!" (Y/C/N) glanced back, her optics shimmering to ocean blue, prepared to use her Cynatcher Algorithm. "Use your Quadirectional Keeper!"

(Y/S/N) didn't hesitate. His servos glowed with the familiar emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper, orange light illuminating his features. He aimed at the advancing guards with a swift motion, sending one of them hurtling back against the wall as if yanked by an invisible force. The guard's weapon clattered to the ground, the others momentarily startled.

(Y/C/N)'s optics narrowed with precision, and she stepped forward. Her Cynatcher Algorithm activated with a blue shimmer, and the floor material beneath the remaining guards began to warp, shifting and reshaping itself around their legs. The once-solid ground transformed into flowing metal tendrils that wrapped around the guards' limbs, immobilizing them.

"[SUSPICION] I don’t like this,” (Y/Cyb/N) muttered as he moved to the front, instinctively gripping the Laser-Blade he had just received. The sleek device hummed to life, its dual functionality glowing with power. His optics darted from one captured guard to another, the adrenaline of the fight pumping through his circuits. “They came too prepared. It’s like they knew exactly where we’d be.”

His sire nodded gravely, still catching his breath after using his Algorithm. “This isn’t a simple extraction mission. Someone’s been watching us closely.”

The air in the tower was thick with tension, and the trio remained alert. (Y/C/N) glanced down the corridor, motioning for them to keep moving. “We can’t stay here. They’ll send more—stronger ones. We have to get out of here and reach the surface.”

“Right. Let’s move quickly.” (Y/Cyb/N) took the lead, his Laser-Blade ready as they hurried down the stairs. His mind raced with questions—about the ambush, the council, and most of all, the significance of his existence as a Codex. But right now, survival was the priority.

As they descended, alarms blared in the distance, echoing through the halls. They had to act fast. The sound of more guards mobilizing heightened their urgency, the low rumble of armored footsteps closing in from the floors above.

Just before they reached the exit to the 10th floor, a new wave of guards blocked their path. These guards, however, looked different—more heavily armored, their visors glowing with a menacing red light. Their weapons were charged with energy, and they looked ready for a much more aggressive fight.

(Y/Cyb/N)’s sire cursed under his breath. “They brought in the elite forces. We can’t just fight through them. We need a plan.”

(Y/Cyb/N), gripping his Laser-Blade, glanced at the panel beside the door. “[IDEA] I think I can cause a distraction.”

His carrier looked at him, wary but trusting. “What are you thinking?”

He stepped closer to the panel with a determined glint in his optics, using his Saboteur Catalyst Algorithm. Though the cuffs had suppressed most of his abilities earlier, the guards hadn't accounted for his ingenuity. His servos flickered as he hacked into the building’s electrical system. The lights flickered, and a surge of energy raced through the circuitry.

Suddenly, the entire floor plunged into darkness.

“Go! Now!” (Y/Cyb/N) whispered urgently. His voice was barely audible over the chaos that erupted as the guards fumbled in the dark, their weapons discharging wildly, hitting walls and floors instead of their targets.

Using the cover of darkness, the trio sprinted forward, navigating through the confusion with the help of (Y/S/N)’s Quadirectional Keeper to pull guards out of their way and (Y/C/N)’s Cynatcher Algorithm to reshape the floor, tripping up their enemies.

Down the winding staircase, they ran, the cacophony of boots and shifting walls echoing around them. (Y/Cyb/N) tightened his grip on the Laser-Blade as they descended floor after floor, his optics darting to catch any movement in the dimly lit tower. Every step closer to the surface meant a chance for freedom, but every floor seemed to bring new threats.

“More guards will be coming from below!” (Y/C/N) called out. “We’ll have to fight through them or find another way.”

“I can’t keep the Quadirectional Keeper active forever,” (Y/S/N) warned. “Get ready, (Y/Cyb/N). You might have to use that weapon sooner than you think.”

(Y/Cyb/N) nodded, his optics narrowing as they reached the next landing. A new set of guards blocked their path, their stun rifles already aimed.

Without a second thought, he activated the Laser-Blade. The cyberknife gleamed with a sharp, glowing edge as he slashed downward. With the precision of the integrated laser, he cut through one of the guards’ weapons, disabling it in an instant.

“(Y/Cyb/N), behind you!” (Y/S/N) shouted.

He spun on his heel just in time to block a guard's attack with the knife portion of his weapon before unleashing a pulse of energy from the laser gun, knocking his attacker backward.

The fight intensified as the trio pressed forward, their Algorithms and newfound weapons pushing the guards back inch by inch.

“Just a few more floors,” (Y/C/N) urged. “We can make it. We just have to—”

Before she could finish, a thunderous BANG echoed from above them, shaking the entire stairwell. The building groaned, and (Y/Cyb/N) realized with a sinking feeling that reinforcements had arrived.

“We don’t have much time. They're bringing the heavy artillery now,” (Y/S/N) muttered darkly, looking up. His optics met (Y/Cyb/N)'s, filled with urgency and fear.

The sounds of machinery and metallic footsteps drew closer from both above and below. (Y/Cyb/N) tightened his grip. "[BRAVERY] Let’s finish this and get out alive."

He steadied himself, his spark pounding in sync with the rising tension. He glanced at his creators, their optics reflecting the same determination in their faces. They had come this far together, and now there was no turning back.

"[FOCUSED]," (Y/Cyb/N) reflexively narrated, his voice barely above a whisper as the trio prepared for the imminent clash.

The guards below were advancing quickly, but the reinforcements above were even more menacing. Heavy steps and the hum of high-tech weaponry filled the stairwell, signaling the arrival of more elite forces. They were cornered, and the only way out was down—straight through the heavily armed enemies blocking their escape.

"(Y/S/N), keep using the Quadirectional Keeper!" (Y/C/N) shouted. "We’ll take the ones below and push our way through!"

"Got it!" (Y/S/N)’s servo glowed with the orange energy of the Algorithm, the invisible force guiding the guards into disarray as they struggled to keep their balance. With a flick of his wrist, he sent two guards tumbling down the stairs.

(Y/Cyb/N) darted forward, his Laser-Blade humming as he slashed through another guard's weapon, then quickly shifted to block another strike from the left. The combination of blade and laser gave him the versatility he needed in such close quarters, and he fought with the urgency of survival.

The guards, though well-trained, were unprepared for the raw power of the Codexes. The trio worked in seamless coordination, with (Y/C/N) using her Cynatcher Algorithm to bend the guards’ weapons, disarming them quickly, while (Y/S/N) continued manipulating their movements with the Quadirectional Keeper.

Just as (Y/Cyb/N) cut down another guard, a deafening crash echoed from above. Heavy artillery had arrived, and with it, a squad of large, heavily armed Cybertronians descended from the upper floors, their armor gleaming in the low light.

"They're here!" (Y/C/N) yelled, eyes wide. "We need to get to the bottom, now!"

"We're not stopping!" (Y/Cyb/N) shouted back, his optics blazing with determination. "[RESOLVE]." He pushed ahead, slashing and firing in tandem as the enemies pressed closer.

Suddenly, a powerful blast struck the wall beside them, sending debris flying. (Y/Cyb/N) ducked, narrowly avoiding the impact as the structure groaned under the assault.

"We won’t make it if we don’t think fast!" (Y/S/N) called out over the chaos.

(Y/Cyb/N)'s optics flickered toward the nearest window. "We might not have to fight all of them. What if we break through the wall and take the jump?"

His creators exchanged a glance. It was a risky plan, but time was running out.

"(Y/S/N), can you use the Quadirectional Keeper to cushion our fall?" (Y/C/N) asked, her voice laced with urgency.

"[UNCERTAINY] I can try—"

*CLICK!*

*WHIZZZ!* (x98)

"FREEZE!"

All of a sudden, from both sides of the hall, targeting lasers were trained on them. Many Cybertronian guards had a rifle aimed at them.

"You are all under arrest! Come with us peacefully, or we'll do it by force! On the count of ten, if you don't comply, you'll be offlined on the spot!"

The leading team shouted, his grip on his gun tightening. "Ten, nine…"

(Y/C/N) and (Y/S/N) looked at each other before they looked at (Y/Cyb/n), who was ready to go full beast mode with his abilities. They glanced at the window on their left and at each other, nodding.

"(Y/Cyb/n)." (Y/C/N) grabbed his son's shoulders gently. "We'll need you to trust on this."

"[CONFUSED] [SCARED]" (Y/Cyb/n) reflexively narrated as he looked at his sire with confusion evident. "What are you talking about?"

"Look…" She sighed. "All we care for now is you escaping. You’re the one powerful Codex among us and our clan."

(Y/S/N)’s right servo was glowing a red color, prepared to use the Octa Hex. “We're sorry that we didn’t have time and went out as often as you wanted. We should’ve done that before this happened.” He spoke with regret, his left servo glowing to activate the Quadirectional Keeper.

“Sire, Carrier,” their son glanced between his creators. “What are you saying—”

*CRASH!*

He was cut off as the window on his left broke into shards from the Octa Hex’s. (Y/Cyb/n)’s eyes widened in panic, realizing where his solution was going. “[PANIC] [DESPAIR] Sire, Carrier—”

*PING!*

He was cut off when he saw the familiar emblem of the Quadirectional Keeper’s red-orange square grabbing his waist. “W-What are you doing!?”

“Get ready to fire!” The leading squad exclaimed.

“Goodbye, son,” (Y/C/N) smiled, coolant rubbing down her optics.

“We love you so much.”

(Y/Cyb/N)’s optics widened in shock as the Quadirectional Keeper’s force lifted him. The last thing he saw was his creators’ sorrowful faces before he was flung backward through the shattered window.

*BOOM!*

Behind him, the heavy artillery fired, filling the stairwell with smoke, debris, and a wave of heat as explosions erupted where they once stood.

The wind roared in (Y/Cyb/N)’s audials as he plummeted through the air, his systems flashing warnings of rapidly decreasing altitude. "[PANIC] [LOSS] [BETRAYAL]," his voice whispered as the ground rushed toward him, his spark pounding against his chestplate.

It felt as if everything was spinning out of control like he was losing everything and the world had torn away the only stable foundation he had ever known.

His optics narrowed as he quickly activated his algorithms upon recognizing the situation.

But it was all too late.

*CRASH!*

(Y/Cyb/n) landed on the metal ground roughly. Pain shot through every sensor of his frame. It hurt so much he couldn’t scream as he struggled to regain his bearings. He could catch a glimpse of the explosion still occurring in the building. He narrowed his optics as he saw debris falling down.

*CRUNCH!*

*CRACK!*

A broken, static-like screen elicited from (Y/Cyb/n), the moment he was processing a pole penetrating through his left optic and two large metallic shards sticking on his neck wires and vocalizers.

“::REPORT: SYSTEMS DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR. INITIATING: SELF-PRESERVATION SEQUENCE.::”

His body began to weaken as he felt Energon pool beneath it. He looked around and saw several Cybertronians watching the scene with shock and horror. Others arrived in confusion and disbelief.

He didn’t have enough time to think, and his processor went fuzzy as a particular blue and golden-colored Cybertronian got closer.

And then everything went dark.

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

>>>[ NEW ARC: IACON 5000 ]<<<

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keranna-zerine · 1 month ago

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May 26 - Day 2 Placate/Graceful

The tree was something else.

Cosima had always wanted her first born to be a prodigy in arcane magic, schooled and sculpted into a paragon of Quel'dorei excellence. Fiorenze had shown promise early with both arcane and nature, the latter of which her mother had told Keranna to bury. No Archmagistrix had boasted hybrid skills and the Sunmote family ambitions were astronomical.

She had thought her cousin short-sighted then, and moreso now. This had once been the great golden birch tree under which picnics and parties were held by the family; for decades it had sat at the edge of the Dead Scar. Fiorenze mentioned she had moved it up into the highland, closer to the Elrendar and into more fertile ground but that did little to explain the explosion in size.

There was no doubt in her mind this was now one of, if not the, biggest tree in the forest. The main, twisting trunk had quadrupled in diameter and bifurcated twenty or so feet up, splitting into distinct growth. A platform had been built between the branches, not looking at all up to any kind of code. What did that matter out here?

One of the treants trundled nearer to the gnarled, curling aerial roots that boasted a flickering, golden will o' wisp dancing through the woody spiral. Those had always been a good portent of health in Eversong. It raised its wooden arms as if in praise and the bark on the birch groaned as the branches were forced to grow a bit more, sending songbirds scattering and a hammock swung loosely between two of them swinging precariously.

That, at least, explained some things.

One of the windows built into the trunk swung open and Fiorenze shoved her head and shoulders out to glare down at the helper. Keranna laughed quietly and before her girl could really get into any kind of admonishment her attention snapped over to her former governess, "Ah. Sorry. I thought you were coming by later."

"It is later, darling," Keranna tapped her watch and Fiorenze winced before disappearing back into the tree itself. It didn't take long for the arched door nearer the root base to swing open, the steps up to the threshold clearly grown into shape. "You've been busy," she commented as she crossed through into Fiorenze's hollowed out, thriving home.

"Have to be, anymore. Would you like some tea? I put the kettle on a moment ago," Fiorenze gathered up a couple porcelain tea cups from a live edge counter and offered the empty one over to the much older woman.

Keranna took the offering and had a seat in a nearby chair, noting the mish-mash, hodgepodge nature of the furniture scattered around this main room. More branch-like stairs crept in a spiral up the inside wall, leading up to whatever other quarters her girl had seen fit to create for herself. "Wine, I think, if you have any. Sticking with the teacups is fine," she couldn't help smiling with some pride.

Fiorenze lifted her silvery eyebrows and shrugged, uninterested in suggesting it may be too early for alcohol. She retrieved a bottle of white wine and poured them both more than enough before gracefully settling down onto a chair herself, "What's this about, then?"

"I have been offered the Tel'vaiel titles and land," there was no real need for a preamble and Keranna had a sip of her perfectly chilled drink as she gave Fiorenze a moment to to work through the notion.

Fiorenze frowned and turned her teacup between her hands, clearly chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her tone was cautious when she finally asked, "Why?"

"It would seem that it hasn't made the current Lady Tel'vaiel happy, and the current Tenants' Council may have put some pressure on helping her out the door," Keranna chuckled and shook her head, "I haven't accepted the offer, I did want to talk to you first."

"Thank you, I do appreciate that. If you want it, you're welcome to it. I'm happy here," she gestured up to the 'ceiling' and all its rings, "Maybe see if they'll change the name, though. Perhaps it's time for that family to finally have some rest."

That, at least, seemed like the truth. Keranna had been the one who taught Fiorenze how to lie, after all. She smiled at her protegee, grateful for her candor, "Your mother-in-law was cruel enough to have cursed it if the thought ever came to her mind, that's a wonderful suggestion. The Grand Magister's next on my list to discuss with, though I imagine my elevation is something he'd be quite interested in facilitating all things considered."

Fiorenze nodded and tucked a strand of her starlight hair back behind her elegant elvish ear. It was funny how the tone of the silver-white seemed to sometimes shift depending on the quality of the light, in here it was luminous. She smiled kindly at the woman who had raised her and nodded in agreement, "He'll make whatever you want happen. Do you want this?"

"Only if I'm allowed my many caveats. I think I'd like to convert the manor house into an artist collective; my penthouse in the city is more than enough for me, but I certainly don't intend to host dignitaries or grand parties. The kitchen can be converted into a community space for anyone who needs it to help start a business.

I'm sure I can get an art gallery established in one of the ballrooms, and there's plenty of opportunity for individual studios for musicians and artists to rent to work in if they need a little getaway. The gardens would be yours, of course. They already are," she smiled at Fiorenze and hoped she would take her up on the offer.

"You don't need to do that, Keranna. But it would be nice to have a greenhouse or two there, it's a bit closer to the city than this is. Also you should at least keep a room there, appearances and everything," Fiorenze couldn't help a wry smirk as she talked, "I imagine the Court will be enthusiastic, too?"

Keranna waved a manicured hand idly, "They'll be thrilled the bastard daughter of a former high noble is no longer going to give their own bastards any ideas. The notion of turning a proper manor house into an art space will be a bit avant-garde for the old guard but they'll have a hard time arguing against anything that supports the arts in Silvermoon, and the nouveau-riche will see it for the opportunity that it is. Dalaran left quite the — forgive the saying — void to be filled in that regard."

"Will Sheizara stay, do you think?" Fiorenze had to ask, and watched Keranna over the rim of her teacup.

She shrugged and smiled, "I have no appetite to kick her out, and she is a photographer. If she would like to have a space, that's up to her. She has previously lamented the lack of good weather here, however, so it's possible she'll not be around as much." Keranna could tell by Fiorenze's smile that that was a satisfactory answer, "Enough about business, then. Tell me more about this home you've made."

@daily-writing-challenge / @sheizara / @fio-renze

#maydwc2025 #mayday22025 #keranna-zerine #world of warcraft

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femalefemur · 4 months ago

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18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: corpse reanimation, grave defiling, please let me know if i missed anything!

ummm, johnny and reader as dr frankenstein and igor respectively. who meet in a twist of fate as johnny is exiting the auditorium where his medical lecture was held and reader is going in.

expression furious as they start arguing with the professor before they've even entered the auditorium which intrigues johnny so he stays and listens to their rant. gathering that they deemed the mark on their assignment as below what they should have received, listening to them explain the complexities of their work before storming out again in a fit.

and johnny rushing after them, calling out to them and complimenting their work, telling them that agrees that their grade should have been higher and asks if they'd like to come to his laboratory slash apartment.

an unlikely friendship striking between the two. both of them growing closer and closer until one night they lay drunk underneath the stars and johnny whispers to them in hushed tones that he has a new experiment he wants to work on, one that would push the boundaries of science and change the meaning of life.

the glint in his eye and the way his flushes in excitement intriguing reader, the both of them stumbling back to his apartment.

all the doors and windows closed tight before johnny finally starts to explain, pulls out his notes and shows them to reader, tells them he can reanimate the dead, watching as reader's eyes grow wide and fill with the same excitement as his.

they work tirelessly over the months on formulas, chemical tests, hone their already excellent surgery techniques into a fine tuned machine before they finally start collecting the pieces to create their modern prometheus as they named him.

digging in fresh graves late at night when there's only owls and insect chirps for company until all his body parts finally assembled.

they use the power of the lightning in the storm to fuel their work, to give their prometheus his fire until he jolts with life, sucking in a deep ragged breath through his scarred lips as if he is inhaling life itself.

he stands tall, eyes perpetually drooped half closed as if he'd fall asleep any moment, the places where he had been stitched together until his body healed permanently scarred, his dirty blond hair cropped and his nose slightly crooked. his height was taller than the average human and his muscles too seemed otherworldly.

sometimes they would catch his eye and it would feel as though time itself had stopped. that they were there on the precipice of death with the grim reaper who had his hand ever creeping towards their throat and then the feeling would disappear, as if there had been nothing at all but a silly fleeting thought.

perhaps it was their punishment for what they had created, their prometheus lived in fire and soon they would be burned in the flames.

#this came to me suddenly and i had to get it out #yes i know igor isn't actually a frankenstein character but idc #also yes that is ghost as the monster hehe #soap #reader insert #ghost #johnny mactavish #simon riley #gn reader #gn!reader #x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x gn!reader #johnny mactavish x gn reader

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hunluan-writes · 1 year ago

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Eating His Prey

author's note: I really wanted to write a fic about Ike, more specifically sadistic and yandere Ike because holy shit it was kinda hot what he was doing sheeeeeesh Summary: Being such a sly (apparently my keyboard wanted to make you slay so you're also very slay) and mischievous little fox you are, you decide to mess around in a wolf's territory. However, you're in for a wild reality check... Contains: degrading oh wow, dom Ike, hes literally using you, and all that spicy stuff mmm

Hunting in the wolf's territory was an adventure within itself, the new terrain and yummy prey was something that you desired very much. Besides, wouldn't be fun to mess around a bit? You are a great predator yourself, enjoying making your prey squeak and cry underneath your arms. You'd drag out their suffering for a good while. It was all fun and games for you.

You are currently traipsing through the forest full of crowded trees, scattered patches of sunlight kissing the grass floor. You finished having a good meal of a rabbit, a cute little thing you almost felt bad for devouring. Your nose quivered, sniffing the air and catching a scent.

Wolf scent. But your senses told you he was away at the moment. You grin, lips pulled back to reveal canine teeth. His little home! Maybe you could get some sort of rabbit shit and litter it all across his home. Maybe you could build a little fort out of sticks for him.

You dart in and out bushes with ease, your feet silently tapping the ground. Your prey hardly ever heard you coming, which was fortunate and unfortunate at once. Unaware little things. Thank god you were an excellent predator and not some weak ass prey!

You find yourself at the mouth of a cave, looking awfully gloomy inside. You sniff once more. Yup, his scent is much stronger here. Without a care in the world, you skip on inside.

It was very dark for a good few feet, your night vision clicking in after a few seconds. Bones lay scattered across the cave floor: skulls, ribs, femurs, arms. Some even arranged in twisted ways, like horrific art. Wolf must be some sort of sick freak. Not like you were anyone to judge. But still. Freak.

But it gradually began to get brighter, and you walk faster, you didn't want to dilly dally after all. You emerge within a bigger room, with a hole on the ceiling like a window. You notice there was no patch of leaves or soft grass for rest (what the fuck does he actually sleep on this hard ass rock? The wolf is literally a psycho) and surprisingly, no weird bone art. Just tallies on the wall, made with his claw you presumed, lining the walls. Several rows after row. What is this? his body count?

Eh. you don't care. You just wanna create a mess out of his home.

You drag some of the bones from the corridor and toss them around. Snapping some in half and creating your own work of art. You giggle as you line up some bones, a picture of a cock on his floor now. Your tail swishes back and forth with excitement. Perhaps you should go back to the riverbed, gather some mud and plaster it all over the wolf's walls. A nice touch to such a bland room.

You turn your head and freeze. Your heart rate increases.

The wolf himself is here, staring you down with golden eyes. Glowing from the darkness, expression blank as he watched you. Caught-red handed. How long was here there anyway? How did you not hear his entrance? as for the smell, his scent was all over the place, and it is very strong. Luck was simply not on your side.

"Well well well," the grey wolf chuckles darkly, sending electricity down your spine. Instinct told you to run your ass out of there, but you froze, out of fear. "What's a little fox doing here in my domain? Wrecking my home, hm?"

You say nothing, eyes glancing behind him. The only exit. A laugh, as he approaches still.

"Since we are going to get very acquainted, my name is Ike Eveland," the wolf says cheerfully and you furrow your brows because what the hell? "And now, answer me this: what gave you the idea to come here? Death wish?"

"...b-because i wanna," your shaky voice replies and you clear your throat. You straighten your body and stare back at him, never backing down. Not too some puny wolf. "I go wherever I want."

Ike tsks at you, stalking closer. "Now now, I like the confidence yes, but do you realise your situation, dear?" He smiles, sharp teeth bared. "I'm going to eat you alive."

Finally, he launches himself at you, claws glinting in the sunlight. Immediately your legs tense and push you, sprinting below him out of the room and into the corridor. Your heart roars in your ears as you run as far as you possibly can out of the cave, breathing heavily.

What a fucking insane little shit! He was definitely a bit smaller than other wolves you met, but something about the way his sinister gaze sent shivers down your spine. You hated to admit it, but the wolf was actually pretty intimidating. His eyes were such a lovely shade of gold though...

You shake your head and keep running, hopping through a small river to make him lose your scent. You turn towards another direction, toward the familiar big tree you liked to lean against when you wanted to think. It was a good distance from the wolf's territory, so you should be fine. Besides, why would Ike come all the way over here for one silly fox? Heh.

You arrive at the foot of the tree and plop down, regaining your oxygen. Damn, you've never ran so much in your life. You curl your fluffy tail around you, plucking out leaves. Your beating heart slowed a bit as relief flooded your veins. That was simply a vibe check from the gods above. You have learned to stay away from there in the near by future, because if you went there again, you wouldn't have a future.

You lean down with the balls of your hand on the grass, stretching with your ass in the air and felt every bone crack in your back. You sigh contently. It has always felt good to do that after a run.

Your ear twitched and a sound of rustling bushes interrupts your stretch. You sit back, suddenly alert. You sniff the air, but only smell your wet fur. You survey your surroundings, and seeing nothing. A squirrel? However, you stayed cautious and kept your ears open.

While you were cleaning your teeth, another sound, the noise of a twig snapping under a huge weight. It is closer to you than before.

With no warning, you high-tail it out of there, not even turning to see who it is because you could already tell by that menacing aura alone. The grey wolf is hunting you.

"Go away!" you shout, shooting through bushes and swerving around thick trees. "Go find some dumb rabbit to devour!"

"You're much more intriguing!" Ike calls, and you're startled by how you can't hear his footsteps and yours is loud as shit. "Let's play a game, huh?"

"I don't play no games!" You snap, diving into a fox hole made from another fox and scurrying through the small tunnel. He couldn't get through because he's too large! ha!

"It'll be fun!" He calls from outside the tunnel. "Let's play hide and seek, little one!" Ike sings, and you find it oddly pretty.

Dude, really?

You shoot out the other end and continue sprinting. Fuck out of here with that hide and seek nonsense!

"I'll be the seeker," Ike says from behind, startling so much you almost stumble. "I'll give you some time to hide!"

His voice fades and you glance over your shoulder. Gone. Kapoof. Finally, holy shit, his presence was getting annoying as shit. Wait. Is he actually going to play hide and seek?

You curse in your mind, running as far as your legs could carry. You pause, chest heaving as you breath rapidly through your mouth. You turn in a circle, attempting to find a good hiding spot. You spy a big tree with a hollow center, obscured by a flower bush. It is right by a river too!

You dive into the hole without delay and try to rein in your breathing. You quickly adjust the bush so it didn't look like it was rammed through. It was not long before you felt that ominous presence again, your tail poofing up instantly.

"Little fox, where are you?" Ike coos from a good distance away. You cover your mouth with both hands. "You're a sly thing, huh? Walking around my own territory like it was your place. Now, it's time to make sure you learn your place."

You press yourself against the wall so hard, the grooves start to imprint on your skin. You're starting to regret your decisions. It seems like the wolf will never let you go until he captures you. You silently pray to whatever gods were listening.

Turns out they were not. They said screw you kiddo you're on your own.

"I will find you," Ike promises, his voice a tad closer. "I can feel your heart. So fast. Am I making you nervous?"

You grind your teeth, stopping yourself from growling. This cocky bastard.

"I tend to get that reaction a lot. I didn't think I was that horrifying, being on the smaller scale," Ike says and you roll your eyes because who the fuck asked? "I give off threatening vibes, supposedly. that's what the last one said anyway."

Huh?

"The last prey I had," the wolf continues, almost as if he just read your mind. "You must've seen the lines on the walls. All animals I've killed and perhaps devour. Sometimes, I kill for the fun of it and leave the carcass for other animals. Oh, how thrilling it is, watching the blood seep onto the floor and the life draining out of their eyes!" Ike sighs and your blood goes cold because it's outside your hiding place. A big hand reaches out to touch the flower in front of you. "Their blood, such a pretty shade of red just like this poppy."

The hand snakes out like a viper and snatches your ankle and you yell, kicking at him but he drags you out of the tree. Still kicking and screaming bloody murder, you kick his face in sheer desperation. His head turned toward another direction but his hand still latched onto your ankle.

"That wasn't very polite," Ike says, his gaze on you and you still. "What's wrong? Sad because you lost?"

"No way!" You claw at his hand but he doesn't budge. Just watches your pathetic attempts. "Let go!"

He leans in close to your face and you halt your actions. His breaths on your face as the wolf holds eye contact with you. The flecked color of brown in his eyes are mesmerizing to look at, entrancing. You swallow hard. Ike's hand slides from your ankle to your knee, to your thigh, sending goosebumps across your skin. He squeezes, his nails digging in slightly and you wince.

"No. You're mine to play with now, cute little fox."

Something about the way his voice went lower, or was it the hand movement? made your heart beat faster, and not in a frightened way. The wolf's hand travels to your hip and your breath hitches, still staring into the eyes of your enemy. The hand goes all the up from your arm, feather light, skins your collarbone and finds itself a new home on your neck. Wrapping his fingers around your delicate neck, Ike begins to squeeze lightly. Still looking down at you with those pretty eyes, hovering over you with such a smirk on his lips.

Ike stops squeezing, evidently surprised. He sniffs the air, but still a hand around your throat, his nose dipping lower. His nose bumps against your thigh and he growls low in his throat, yanking your legs apart. You squeak.

Arousal. Pure arousal, glittering in the light. Ike stares for a moment, still sniffing. His gaze slides back up to you and you stop breathing.

"Little fox..." he says quietly, and excitement jolts up. "Are you... aroused, right now?"

You don't respond, a bit ashamed. Why the hell were you getting horny for the man about to kill you? Who in their right mind-?

You gasp as you feel a hot mouth against your pussy, lapping up the juices with a shocking pace. You whine, struggling to get away but both his hands are on your thighs now, keeping you spread open and down on the grass as he ravaged your pretty little hole.

You tasted so fucking good, more than he could ever imagine! His nose bumps your clit as his tongue glides in and out of your wet hole, making squelching noises. You moan loudly, digging your nails into his scalp as you push him into you. Ike growls, sending more electricity up your spine. His teeth grazes your clit as he suckles the bundle of nerves and you gasp.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck- mph!" You cover your mouth, attempting to muffle your embarrassing sounds.

The wolf stops, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who said for you to hide those pretty noises?"

You bite your lip, legs squirming as the breeze hits your pussy. "I-I, well..."

"Keep our hands. Off. If you do so again, I'll make sure you never do it again, do you understand?"

You nod quickly, getting even more aroused by his threat and you subconsciously think, 'what the FUCK' and he smirks.

Ike eats you out like a wolf starved, fucking and teasing your hole with such accuracy you start to see stars, and watching him eat you like you were the best meal he ever had turned you on even more and you felt your walls clamp around his tongue.

"Good slut," Ike whispers against your clit, sucking on it for a brief moment before sinking his teeth into your thigh, making you yelp. "Horny little thing, for a predator who was going to devour you whole..." the wolf chuckles.

Your slick slathered across his face, buried in you, legs over his shoulders was a sight to see. You moan, "a-ah! Mmm, right there, t-there!" Your toes curl, eyes rolled back as the orgasm comes over in waves, making your body shake from pleasure as you release soft whines. But Ike isn't done, he's just getting started.

A finger pushes itself into you and you gasp yet again. It explores your walls, tickling that one spot. Then another is added, and Ike slowly pumps his fingers into you, watching with fascination as your pussy eagerly swallows his digits. Pulling him in.

"What a fucking whore," he notes, flicking his eyes up at your flushed cheeks and the drool leaking down your chin. "I haven't even put my cock in you yet."

Your walls squeeze around his fingers at the sentence and he laughs darkly. He bites your other thigh, drawing blood as you wince in pain. The wolf quickly laps up your blood with a groan. His fingers pump faster, curling at the right time and you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Greedy bitch. Do you want me to let you cum?" He asks, gold glowing between your legs. New hickeys flourish all over your inner thighs along with obvious bite marks.

"Yes please," you moan, angling your hips up and he repeatedly hits that delicious spot. "Hah- f-fuck! N-ngh! Pleasepleasepleaseplease... "

Ike pulls his fingers out and you immediately protest but he shushes you. The loss of his fingers inside you was making you insane, until you get filled up by something entirely different.

"O-oh... " you moan quietly, his cock hard inside of you.

"Dumb fox." Ike takes your wrists and pins them above your head as he looks down at you. Your breath hitches. "Dumb, horny fox."

He snaps his hips and you make a guttural sound. Ike's pupils are big, drinking in every single detail from your sweat collecting on your skin, your body squirming underneath him, to your mouth popped open slightly. Oh, and those luscious lips of yours, appearing soft and unkissed...

Might as well make you his new toy now, eh?

Ike smashes his lips into yours as he fucks you fast and hard, shoving his tongue inside your mouth as you open to moan. Tongues dancing together and his muscle exploring every single space within your mouth. You tasted so delicious and felt so delicious, there was no way in hell he was letting you go now.

Satisfied with your bruised lips, the wolf goes to mark your neck. Biting, kissing, sucking. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he digs his nails into you. Tears running down your face as you hiccup, crying and saying "it's too much, it's too much'.

Ike could not give a damn. You brought this upon yourself, and now he's going to have fun with his new fucktoy.

#nijisanji en #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji smut #vtuber #nijisanji x reader #favorite vtuber #luxiem #Ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #Ike eveland smut

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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There's this super fancy steakhouse near my home, and I've always wanted to eat there. Their salad bar is beyond excellent, a friend informs me, and their grated cheese is actually from Italy. Expense aside, you'd think this would be an easy trip for me. You're wrong.

You see, this steakhouse is so fancy that they have a special employee whose job it is to park my car. As far as I can tell by watching their parking lot with high-powered binoculars, their "valet" will take your car from you at the entrance, park it for you, and retrieve it for you when you're done eating. This, presumably, saves you the dinner-ruining stress of gently turning your vehicle to place it into a parking space.

Personally, I don't mind parking. My own backyard is full of cars packed helter-skelter, with mere millimetres of space between them. I could probably park a bus in here, if I really had to, but it would take me a couple of hours to get it back out. That's not the problem. The problem is that the valet would have to drive my car, which means I'd have to explain how to drive my car to them.

In case you think that's not a problem, allow me to explain. Most carbureted cars have a single choke, which you pull out when the car is cold in order to help it breathe a little better. Mine has sixteen, which must be pulled, bagpipe-like, in a specific order as the engine is running in order to keep it from dying at the lights. Could I fix it? Not until they create a bottle of head-gasket fix that also cures giant holes in the block.

Sure, I could park a few blocks away and walk there, but the valet will smell the desperation on me. If I have a rusty, propane-spurting 1970s Chrysler product, maybe I'm an eccentric. There's fewer of those left than Ferrari 458s, which makes me a "vintage collector," at least in the eyes of the super-rich-people yacht-owning magazine I tricked into doing an interview with me last year. All that goes out the window if I show up on foot. Same goes for letting my dinner date drive me there: her Hyundai Tucson is, well, a Hyundai Tucson. Not eccentric at all. Practical. They hate that there.

Ultimately, I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do things the hard way. I've already applied for a job as their assistant valet. There's an employee discount, and I'm pretty sure that I'll be head valet once the bossman sees that I can fit like 700% as many cars in there as the old guy. It's just going to take a few weeks to get them back out again, which is even better for business.

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pippytmi · 1 year ago

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kacy + a break-up AU based on this prompt list: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"

———————————————————————

The thing no one says about breakups is that they're an utter inconvenience.

Kate tries to rationalize it; she was dating Lucy Tara for twelve months and thirteen days, it's only natural to have established a routine that will take some time to unlearn. So when she wakes up and reaches for a warm body that isn't there, it still takes a while to remember why. And when she makes her morning coffee, maybe sometimes she will pour the creamer that Lucy likes by accident. (By the end of the week, she will have to pour the whole container down the drain). That’s normal too. Mostly.

Lucy’s absence hits the most in the morning, but Kate goes through the motions anyway. Before Lucy she would always take her coffee outside and sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, so she still does it. Of course now there’s no Lucy wrapped up in a blanket and insistently making her way onto Kate’s lap to sleep while she does it, but. Kate sips from her mug and watches the clouds roll in over the gloomy horizon and pretends nothing has changed.

The drive to work is quiet save for the gentle patter of rain against her windows. Her radio is still set to the station Lucy likes, and Kate hasn’t managed to change it. Baby steps—that’s all it takes. Maybe tomorrow Kate might have the courage to switch it back to her own.

And when everything at home is too loud and simultaneously too empty, there’s work. Kate gets to her desk and finds a mountain of files with new assignments, and she welcomes them with open arms; her work has always been separate from Lucy, and it's the one constant she doesn't need to readjust to.

For a blissful hour and a half, Kate is in her own world. She argues with a client about what confidentiality means (and what it doesn't). She reschedules the deposition of a plaintiff on a particularly high-profile case because opposing counsel has accidentally double-booked. She creates an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of her new cases but organizes the clients by market value.

By all accounts, her morning is shaping up considerably. That is, until her cell phone starts buzzing.

She ignores the first call from the unknown number flashing on the screen. Instead, she gets coffee from the awful machine in the break room. The second call comes thirty minutes later, and Kate ignores it again, spends her time politely explaining how to use the fax machine to her confused new paralegal.

When her phone rings a third time—just as Kate has gotten out of a grueling meeting with the senior attorneys which should've been an email—she answers it solely for peace of mind: “This is Kate.”

There's a brief shuffle on the other end. “Hi, I'm calling from St. Joseph Hospital for a Katherine Whistler?”

“Speaking,” Kate says curtly, prepared to give a spiel about how she won't donate at this time when the caller continues,

“Oh—good morning.” More shuffling. “Is this a good time? I have a sensitive matter to discuss.”

Kate frowns even if the person on the other line can't see it. “Yes, it's fine,” she says, and watches as her work phone lights up with another call that she will just have to return later.

“I'm calling on behalf of a patient: Lucy Tara. She has you listed as her emergency contact. She is unresponsive and we were wondering if you could come in to discuss the particulars of her care…”

The rest of the call is static. Kate almost drops her phone entirely, only grasping onto select words like they're a lifeline. Lucy is alive. Lucy is hurt. Lucy was found unconscious. Lucy has yet to wake up. Lucy is alive.

Kate doesn't even tell anyone she's leaving; she just goes. Later, senior attorney Michael Curtis will tell Kate that she looked extremely pale and sickly when rushing out of the office, but Kate will only remember a vague blur from that phone call to actually arriving at the hospital. It might be the most reckless thing she’s ever done, come to think of it.

Dr. Carla Chase is the physician assigned to Lucy’s care, and she takes one look at Kate and blinks as if surprised to see her. “Forget an umbrella?”

“I'm sorry?” Kate says, heart caught dangerously high in her throat. She's literally choking on worry—Dr. Chase’s words don't sink in until she takes a step forward and realizes she is currently dripping all over the linoleum floor.

Dr. Chase gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me ease your mind,” she says. “Ms. Tara woke up. Our timeline is good, she was not unconscious for long. Has a concussion and a nasty bump, but she's going to be just fine.”

Kate breathes. “Oh,” she says shakily, and embarrassingly, hot tears spring to her eyes at the confirmation. “That's…great. Thank you.”

“You can come inside, see her. I'll go find you a towel.” Even though Kate is a sopping mess, Dr. Chase still pauses to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

Even with the worst over, the hardest part is still walking into the room—harder still is watching as Lucy looks up with those wide, curious eyes that become expressionless the instant she sees Kate.

“Kate? What are you doing here?” Lucy asks, voice not quite harsh but definitely not welcoming.

Kate opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She's too stuck just staring at Lucy: at the bruise that colors the entirety of the swell of her cheek, at the large bandage over her jaw, at the purpling of her black eye. Any relief at knowing that Lucy is awake sinks into horror at the state of Lucy’s injuries.

“Kate,” Lucy repeats, frowning. “Why do you look like someone died?” A beat. “And why are you wet?”

“The—the hospital called me,” Kate manages. “Are you okay? How are you…how are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I just fell down a stupid mountain.” Lucy smooths down her blanket, twisting the corner between her fingertips the way she does when she's uncomfortable.

“A mountain?”

“It's not as dramatic as it sounds,” Lucy says. “Kai and I were searching for a missing kid and we got separated, and with the rain it was muddy and foggy and…well, you get it.”

“And he left you there? Unconscious?” Kate has met Kai Holman once or twice, and knows very little about him except that just like Lucy, he volunteers for search and rescue missions to escape his normal job. Beyond that, Kate’s opinion of him is quickly going downhill.

“He wasn't there when it happened,” Lucy argues. “I already texted him and explained, but, I told him he didn't have to come see me or anything.” She stops. “So why did you come?”

“Because the hospital called,” Kate says again, which is pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently, Lucy does not feel the same way. “But you didn't have to answer the phone,” she points out. “We’re not together. You could've just said ‘sorry, she’s my ex’ and called it a day.”

Kate stiffens. “You're the one who has me as your emergency contact. It was the…decent thing to do,” she says.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, congratulations,” she says, “you have done your civic duty of not being an asshole. But I’m alright, so you can go back to deep-sea diving in your pantsuit or whatever you were up to before this.”

“Hold on,” Kate says, a flare of panic overtaking any objection she might have to Lucy’s disdain (which is completely unwarranted, by the way). “How are you getting home?”

“They’ve invented a modern miracle called an Uber, not sure if you heard.” Lucy waves her phone exaggeratedly. “I’ll survive.”

It's an out, and Kate should take it. She should walk out that door and never look back, let all the unsaid issues between them continue to morph and mutate into something ugly and irreversible. But she can’t.

“I’ll drive you home,” Kate says at last.

Lucy immediately shakes her head. “That’s not necessary,” she says. “Seriously. If you’re that against Ubers, I can call Kai and get him here in two seconds. He’d be more than happy to take me home.”

“That would be unnecessary. I’m already here.”

“And you don’t have to be,” Lucy reiterates, staring Kate down like she expects her to cave.

If it were any other situation, Kate would. She's soaked head to toe from the rain, she has no obligation to be here, and by all accounts either reason would be a rational excuse to extradite herself from this hospital. Especially the former—the chill of her wet clothes is finally beginning to catch up to her, and she blindly brushes back her damp hair while resisting the urge to shiver. It would be the rational decision to go home and change into warm clothes (and explain to her boss why she left without as much as a text explaining why).

But for once in her life, Kate isn't being rational. “I'm not leaving,” she says, crossing her arms in an attempt to look firm.

Lucy sighs, sagging backwards against her pillow. “Come on, Kate,” she says. “This is awkward enough. I don't need a babysitter after one tiny little fall.”

“Down a mountain,” Kate says, unable to let that fact go. “What do your parents think about this?”

“I…might've not told them. Exactly.” Lucy bites her lip in an obvious effort not to wince. “I asked for the day off when I woke up, so.”

Kate blinks. “You woke up after a traumatic fall,” she says slowly, “and…asked your parents for PTO.”

“I wouldn't call it traumatic. That's such an ugly word. Limiting, even,” Lucy says. “It would've been a total badass move if it hadn't been, you know, raining.”

A knock against the wall announces Dr. Chase’s arrival, who has thankfully brought Kate that towel. “How are we doing?” she asks.

“Ready to get out of here,” Lucy says, sitting up eagerly. “Whenever you say so, doc.”

“Well, I really would recommend a CT scan to be on the safe side,” Dr. Chase says. “But given that you've passed all our cognitive tests and your vision is good, I can consider a discharge…as long as you have someone at home to monitor you today and make sure no further symptoms arise. And no sleeping until your normal bedtime.”

“I’ll be with her,” Kate interjects as she towels off her hair. Lucy looks like she might argue, but her desire to leave must win out, because she doesn't speak up.

“Fantastic. Let me get your discharge paperwork and a prescription for some painkillers—all over the counter. Then we're going to have a serious discussion about what you should and should not do, okay?”

“Got it. Thanks, Dr. Chase,” Lucy says cheerfully, but the instant the doctor leaves, so does her smile. “What was that? You obviously can't stay with me.”

“I know,” Kate says defensively, even if—for a second—she had been completely prepared to. “I'm sure Ernie or Jane can monitor your symptoms just fine.”

“...yeah,” Lucy agrees slowly, as if she had been expecting Kate to argue. Then, “Oh, shit. I actually forgot to tell Jane I'm here.” She frantically opens her phone and starts texting up a flurry, her brow crinkling as she concentrates on her screen, and Kate is brought back to movie nights spent scouring Wikipedia articles and faux-arguing over date night picks and it's…too much.

This is the opposite of unlearning; this is an all too painful reminder that Lucy Tara is no longer in her life. Kate wrings the damp towel between her hands and takes a deep breath to save face. At the very least, Lucy doesn't seem to have caught on to Kate’s internal turmoil, because when she looks up again all the cheerfulness from before is back.

Kate knows in that instant she never wants Lucy to lose that cheer again. “Everything okay?” she asks, aiming for just-polite-enough interest, and Lucy is gracious enough to allow it.

“They found the missing girl,” Lucy says, sagging backwards in obvious relief. “Thank God.” When she smiles, even if it’s down at her phone, Kate nearly tears up all over again.

“That’s great.” Kate clears her throat, places her hands in her (wet) pockets, and tries very hard to act casual. “So is Jane going to stay with you, then?”

“No—she’s the one who found the kid, she has to stay and give the police a statement,” Lucy mutters, biting her lip distractedly as she types out another message. “I’ll see what Ernie’s up to.”

By the time Dr. Chase comes back with discharge paperwork and a spiel about avoiding screens (during which Lucy noticeably peeks at Kate, like she might rat her out), Kate has already resolved herself to zero interference. Obviously it’s not what she wants, but she listens to Dr. Chase and nods along at all the right times while in her head she is already drafting a very long message to Ernie with all the relevant information. Then she drives Lucy home to that bleak apartment that Lucy lives in mostly as a general “fuck you” to her parents, which Kate swears is either haunted or infested by very spirited roaches.

The entire ride there, Lucy doesn’t say anything about the car’s radio being set to her favorite station (and which Kate would always complain about), which is just as well. Kate isn’t sure how she would’ve explained it.

“This not sleeping thing sucks, I’m honestly dead tired with our without a concussion,” Lucy groans as she exits the vehicle, stretching her arms overhead.

Kate follows her outside, and when Lucy gives her a questioning look, she says, “Ernie’s not here yet, is he? I can at least wait with you until he does.”

“I’m sure I can survive thirty minutes alone, Kate,” Lucy says. “I won’t pass out the instant you walk away or anything.”

“I’d really rather wait,” Kate says, and Lucy sighs.

“Fine. God, I would’ve changed my emergency contact ASAP if I’d known you would be such a stickler for lame hospital rules.” Lucy wraps herself up in a large black hoodie which Kate recognizes as her own, still muddy from the fall but otherwise intact.

“Why did you?” Kate finds herself asking, mouth three steps ahead of her head, and Lucy pauses outside her apartment door.

“You mean why didn’t I change it? Because I forgot, I wasn’t exactly expecting to land in the hospital.”

“No, why…why did you make me your emergency contact in the first place?” Kate clarifies, her voice strangely quiet even to her own ears.

Lucy methodically unlocks her door, but her hands falter. “Just because,” she says at last. “You know how it is. Anything was better than my parents. Sorry I didn’t…ask you first.”

“Well, I mean,” Kate shrugs, “I didn’t ask you either.”

At that, Lucy whirls around, mouth agape. “You made me your emergency contact?”

Kate hesitates. “Yes? After like six months. It was a practical decision, we spent pretty much all our time together and I assumed…”

Somehow, she’s said the wrong thing, because Lucy’s eyes darken. “Right.” She moves away, digging through her fridge in search of something to drink, and Kate awkwardly leans against the kitchen counter and tries to make sense of what’s going on.

“Did you eat anything today?” Kate attempts to change the subject. “I can make you something before Ernie gets here.”

Lucy takes a gulp of a water bottle and doesn’t respond, just eyes Kate from across the kitchen with a sharp, unyielding glare. Finally, the words seem to burst out: “I wish you weren’t so—fucking—” She shakes her head. “Do you even know how you sound, sometimes? No girl wants to hear that they’re the practical choice. Just once, I wish you’ve would picked me because you wanted me.”

Kate feels her entire body prickle, partly in shock and partly in indignation. “What are you talking about? I did pick you.”

“Did you?” Lucy tilts her head. “”Cause it kind of feels like you picked the idea of me. At least, that’s how Cara tells it.”

“Seriously? Cara? She—” Kate pauses to exhale, swallows back a frustrated sob. “She’s wrong. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” This time, her voice quivers like the sob might escape, and some of the steel in Lucy’s gaze softens.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Kate says. “You were pushing me away, Lucy. What was I supposed to think?”

“You should’ve fought harder for me,” Lucy says. “You could have talked to me. Jesus, Kate, I don’t—I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m basically a prisoner in my house, this is the last thing I need.”

Kate’s shoulders fall. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that either,” Lucy snaps, and she chugs the remainder of her water before she stalks out of the room. “No apologies. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kate waits to see if Lucy will come back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hears the tell-tale sound of Lucy banging around through her board game drawer, because the chess set Ernie gave her rattles and gives it away. Kate tentatively enters the living room, finds Lucy sorting through a Monopoly box, but doesn’t try to say anything else.

Lucy breaks the silence all on her own, eventually. “I have nothing to cook,” she says. “But I asked Ernie to bring food with him.”

“Alright.” Kate doesn’t sit down because her clothes are still damp, but she does wait by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“No.” Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the floor and carefully stacking Monopoly money into piles by color, her muddy hoodie occasionally smearing against the carpet. “I’m fine.” She obviously isn’t; her jaw is clenched, her back stiff, her entire demeanor still a perfect mirror of her anger.

Kate wisely doesn’t push. And when Ernie arrives carrying Thai food and a thick stack of books which Lucy is outwardly horrified at, Kate doesn’t try to stay.

“I’m going to send you the doctor’s discharge instructions,” she tells Ernie instead, as Lucy gingerly pokes through one of the books Ernie has handed off. “Make sure Lucy eats something before she takes her meds.”

“On it, Dr. Whistler,” Ernie says seriously, his voice going low so Lucy can’t hear afterward. “And thanks, for being there. Even if you two aren’t…”

Kate casts one final look at Lucy Tara, bundled up in her clothes and adorably pouting at the prospect of reading all night instead of playing board games, and feels her heart beat so hard it hurts. “Take care of her,” she says, but it’s not a request.

Ernie gives her a small, sad smile. “I will.”

Lucy doesn’t say goodbye, but she does spare Kate one brief, sorrowful once-over like she wants to. Kate memorizes that look—lets it linger in the back of her mind—and doesn’t cry until the first cheery pop song from Lucy’s favorite station starts playing on the drive home.

She hits the button to turn off the radio altogether, but her finger slips and she accidentally switches stations instead. Kate eases the car to a stop at a red light, watches as rain begins to drizzle once more, and then she makes the executive decision to switch it back.

Baby steps.

#something about these two & their exes era....they have me in a chokehold im ngl #kacy #kate x lucy #ncis hawaii #i listened to 'emergency contact' by PTV a million times writing this btw. song of all time #i need a fic tag

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