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lolabangtan · 2 years

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arte factum | pjm

After your ex-husband is found dead in his house, you're burdened with the well-being of his latest invention, a good-looking, polite android who seems to have a peculiar interest in you.

Word count: 17k

Warnings: smut, somnophilia, obsessive behaviour, suicide, mentions of domestic and psicological abuse.

# Artifical Intelligence AU, horror, sci-fi, sub!Jimin, dom!female reader, yandere!android Jimin, vouyerism, he uses one of her panties to jerk off 😭, ma’am/Master kink, homeboy just doesn’t handle well seeing her naked, creampie, ‘unprotected’ vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), nipple play, overstimulation, fingering, horny groping, he needs to chill, face-fucking him with her fingers? idk.

A/N: lots of plot, read with caution. I don’t really know what else to say. Just, hm, enjoy the filth? Sub!yanderes are probably one of my lowest fantasies 😗✌️

Read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist.

“I didn’t know you were back already. How did it go?”

You’re still staring at your reflection on the teacup, the steamy drink smudging your face despite your complete stasis. It’s been at least five minutes since Taehyung poured it for you, but you’re still gripping the cup instead of sipping it.

“Well,” you murmur without looking away, “how do all funerals go? – they’re always depressive as fuck.”

Yoongi takes a seat in front of you “You know you can be sad about it, don’t you? It doesn’t mean you’re to blame. We— we don’t know anything yet.”

“My husband killed himself!” you blurt out, finally ripping your eyes away from your reflection. “I know I didn’t do anything, but still— maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe— maybe he wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t sued him.”

You’re still wearing all back, sitting down miserably in your kitchen. That tea that Taehyung poured you is starting to cool down.

“Your hubby was a psycho, remember? It doesn’t make him any less of a stalker just because he’s dead now.”

Your friend has always had a way with words, you think to yourself with a chuckle; after all, he’s right. Just because he’s dead, it doesn’t mean he didn’t put you through all that shit. In a way, and you feel terrible for this, you’re kind of glad he’s gone.

“Mrs Im said they’d read the will this evening. You’re not going, after all?”

“You think he left me anything?” you ask him with an arched eyebrow.

But Yoongi just shrugs. “Maybe. Who knows.”

Even if he did, you’re not sure you want any of the things your ex-husband could’ve possibly left for you after his death. They’d be soiled with hatred and poison.

It seems, after all, that he did leave you something in his will. Or that you suspect, at least, after you’re summoned to his house by one of his lawyers. You can’t even describe the goosebumps rising in your skin as you walk into the suburban house that you used to call home.

“Ma’am, it’s good to see you.” Mrs Im rushes to shake your hand when she sees you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you say half-heartedly.

But, well, you went to the funeral, so it would be odd not to come; you need to finish off and seal this part of your life for once and for all.

“Don’t worry, it’s just some money and the art collection.” You don’t miss the way the woman and the notary eye each other, and you cross your eyes. “Uh, well, there is something else... that he left for you hoping you’d accept. One of his last creations. He finished it a few months ago.”

“I don’t really need a vacuuming robot, thank—”

“Oh, ma’am—! It’s something completely different,” the lawyer cries out.

With an arched eyebrow, you follow them down the hall, now more intrigued than ever, and walk down the steps that lead to his lab, where he’d work on all of his inventions. A mad scientist for a husband is what you had. A truly mad genius. You can’t even fathom what he’s invented this time.

Since it’s not been longer than a week since he passed away, the place is just as eery and spooky as it has always been.

You walk downstairs following the other two and stop in your tracks when they do, almost bumping against them. Arching your eyebrows once again, you open your mouth to ask them what’s wrong but go quiet when a young man, standing naked in the middle of the room, waves at you with the sweetest of smiles.

“God! I told you not to turn it on yet! Fucking hell, I almost had a fucking heart attack,” Mrs Im grunts, putting her hand on her chest.

“S-sorry, I swear I thought it was turned off when I left...”

Your eyes can’t help but flutter down to his crotch; his cock is thick and decently sized, but what truly makes your mouth water is how it reddens and twitches when the two of you meet. Oh, how you like nice cocks. How you need one in your life— isn’t he gonna cover himself or something, though?

“Uh, nice to meet you. Anybody cares to explain what the hell is going on?” you finally blurt out, a bit tired of their antics and dying to just have something else to look at. “I’d like to go back home as soon as possible.”

The woman takes a deep breath. “This is it, ma’am— this is what your husband wanted you to keep—”

“My name is Jimin, ma’am. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

You don’t listen and turn around towards her:

“He... wanted me to adopt this guy?”

“That’s not a ‘guy’, ma’am, it’s Jimin, or subject JM13, a robot. Your ex-husband had been working on it for five years until now,” the notary continues, finally making himself noticed.

Five years? That means he was already working on it during the last years of your marriage. Weird.

“He was planning on selling the design to a company for the massive production of, er, sex androids.” Mrs Im’s voice goes meeker and softer as she speaks, perhaps ashamed of her words. Honestly? Same. Fucking sickhead. You stare at the so-called Jimin in disbelief. “However” – you look up back at her when she continues – “he seemed to change his mind at some point and decided to keep it and make you its guardian if something ever happened to him.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a... sex robot, if I may know?”

Mrs Im walks up to the big table in the centre of the room and picks up a bunch of papers just to read them leisurely. Then she puts them back on the surface and sighs.

“Can I be honest with you, ma’am?” You nod, though a bit hesitant. “Just take it. Sell it off if you want, there wasn’t anything that forbids you on the will. Or keep it; it can clean, cook, and fuck your brains out if you want. Do whatever you want, I just wanna be over with this case already. Your psycho ex has been giving me a headache ever since you sued him after your divorce.”

You need a couple of seconds to process it all, but you quickly come to the conclusion that she’s just as tired of this business as you. And maybe a hand or two at home won’t be so bad after all.

But it’s so spooky – he looks just like a person.

“So, its name is Jimin?” you ask as you walk up to the standing figure in front of you. You don’t need to tilt your head to look at him.

“So it seems.”

“I guess you’re coming home with me, Jimin. I just hope these two know how you work,” you say then, glancing at them.

“I’ll be happy to help, ma’am.” Jimin’s voice is probably the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard; it slithers into your mushy brain and pools on your tongue with the craving of saying his name out loud yourself – Jimin. “Thank you for keeping me. I will do anything I can to be of assistance to you.”

“I’m sure you will... Come on, let’s go home. By the way, don’t you come with instructions or something?”

Jimin laughs boyishly. “I’m automated, ma’am.”

“Well, there is one thing that you might want to know, though...” The woman butts in with the papers in her hand and reads, “If it ever puts you in danger and ignores direct instructions, you can always press the small switch behind his left ear. It will proceed with the complete shutdown of its system until you decide to turn it on again. In case you are being immobilised, just say out loud its name along with ‘shutdown’ and it will turn itself off.”

As soon as they’ve handed you some clothes for him and given you the little instructions Jimin needs to function, you find yourself closing the door of the side of the car where he’s sitting right now before you head to the driver's seat.

It’s true that you don’t trust this thing in the slightest, especially knowing who created it. But you’re determined to find out what has your ex-husband planned for you and why he decided he wanted you to keep Jimin out of all the people he knew. Maybe he’s not dead and is watching you right now through a peephole in the android’s eyes? Maybe he’s not done making your life miserable yet.

“Ma’am—!”

Jimin takes the wheel in time before your car takes a turn, neglected during the short but strong while you’ve been sulking in your thoughts.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks you then, looking at you with concern as you take over the wheel again. “Would you rather I drove instead?”

“No, it’s... It’s okay, Jimin, thank you.”

“Your heart is beating fast, ma’am. Am I making you uneasy?”

You roll your eyes with a shameful sigh. “Uh, maybe a little. But it’s not your fault— you just have a creator with kind of a nasty name.”

“You used to sleep with my Master, I know.”

“Yeah... I mean,” you blurt out, now a bit bashful, “we were married. It was a bit more serious than just sleeping together – unfortunately.”

But then you realise— how on earth does this robot know who you are?

“Did he talk about me?”

“He talked about you quite often.”

You take a breath. “And what would he say?”

“My Master... wanted me to know how much he loved you,” Jimin says half-heartedly.

So, he just built himself a friend. One that couldn’t run away from him – pathetic. But Jimin doesn’t seem too fond of him, so you relish in the idea that your ex couldn’t even keep his handmade friends.

“He didn’t love me,” you spit out. “That nasty thing wasn’t love.”

It’s pretty much pointless to try and explain what love is to a robot, so you just tighten your grip on the wheel. For the rest of the ride, you stay in complete silence, and Jimin respects that you don’t want to talk.

“Uh, I guess you won’t need a bedroom? Or do you?”

Jimin takes a look around, inspecting the entrance hall of your house. “It’s better for my hardware to rest on a bed when I’m on standby, ma’am.”

“And... when do you switch to stand-by?”

“Once you go to bed,” he replies with a smile. “But I react to loud noises and turn back on in case there’s an emergency.”

Oh, so you get a full-time bodyguard in the package too. Cool – you guess.

“In that case, you can have the guest room. My room is upstairs— well, I’ll show you around now. Follow me.” Naturally, Jimin does as told and walks behind you as you guide him through the rest of the house. “My office is at the end of the corridor. I need to focus when I’m working, so please, don’t make too much of a fuss if you’re around this part of the house.”

“May I know what’s your profession?” Jimin asks on his way back to the kitchen.

“I’m... I draw comics,” you murmur. “It’s a pretty boring job since I started working for a publishing company, but the pay is really good— and I work at home a lot, so I’d also prefer if you didn’t disturb me when I’m in there unless there’s an emergency.”

You go to grab the kettle to make yourself some tea, but he gently takes it from your hand and beckons you to take a seat instead.

“Please allow me, ma’am.”

Pulling your hands away, you let him take charge of your tea and sit down. It’s oddly nice, but there’s a little voice in your head nagging you for taking advantage of a robot. As if that’s even possible. However, the voice slowly fades as Jimin prepares your tea, your eyes fixed on the way the muscles of his back bulge and tense under the flimsy fabric.

Well, your ex-husband did a pretty decent job with this one.

“There you go, ma’am. Would you like some cream with it?” he asks again with that angelic voice of his. You just shake your head. “What would you like me to do now?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” You fidget on your spot, awkwardly taking the teacup between your fingers.

“Please— I want to be of service.”

At his insistence, you nod weakly. “Well, I guess the kitchen could use some maintenance... And I think the microwave is broken. Can you... do something about that?”

Jimin nods fervently and, after asking you where can he find the tools, he gets on with the job. You can just watch him in awe as he dusts the windows, fixes your microwave, and puts a pair of flowers that apparently had been in your dining hall all this morning in a China vase. Again, you’re too perplexed to regret your decision.

Somewhere after dinner – which clearly was made by Jimin and was basically the best bite you’ve had in a while – your doorbell rings in the middle of the house’s pre-slumber silence.

You rush to the door before he can do anything. “I’ll go, you stay here.”

When you reach the entrance hall and open the door, you see Taehyung standing in front of the gate, checking impatiently the watch on his wrist.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you?” he whines through the intercom. “Open up! Didn’t you get my texts?”

God, you’ve just realised that you’ve been so busy with the funeral, the will, and handling this peculiar new inhabitant in your house that you haven’t checked your personal phone since lunch.

“Sorry—”

“Hey, I was mad worried,” he mutters, coming in without needing to be invited. “How did it go? What did the notary say? Did the psycho leave you—?”

Judging by your friend’s sudden silence, you figure he’s just noticed the new face standing in the middle of the hall. Taehyung’s grimace turns from shock to confusion, and from confusion to some kind of sly understanding.

“Sorry,” he chirps, “didn’t know you had company. I can come back later if you want.”

“Actually— I think you should know this.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and offers Jimin his hand for a shake. “Really? Ah, I’m Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you. Wow, your hands are so soft! What lotion do you use?”

“Listen, this is what my ex left for me in his will. His name is Jimin.”

“This? You mean... that he’s his adopted child or something?” your friend retorts with a grimace. “Or a protégé?”

“No, he’s a robot.”

But he just lets out a laugh. “You’re kidding me.”

“God, I’m being serious— Jimin, can you show him?” The android obediently turns around and lifts his shirt, revealing a plug that sinks all the way into his lower back. “See? I know it looks like a fucking joke because I’m still trying to process it all – but he is.”

Switching his eyes from him to you, Taehyung finally grabs your arm and, excusing the two of you, pushes you into the kitchen before closing the door. “Are you nuts? So, they told you your psychotic ex-husband built a robot that you could take as a housekeeper and you fucking brought it in? What is wrong with you—!”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you cut him off. “I know there’s something fishy about this. But I want to find out what.”

“If this is about—”

“Of course it is,” you cry out then and bury your face in your hands.

You need to know – you need to know if he was to blame after all or if you actually became a paranoid who dumped her innocent husband and convinced everyone that he was crazy. You need to know if you just pushed him into such a miserable and unjust fate that he had to end his life.

And perhaps Jimin has the answer.

“Whatever, I’ll keep an eye out on him. Just one creepy thing, Y/N,” Taehyung grunts as he opens the kitchen door to walk out. “One creepy thing and he’s a dead robot.”

You roll your eyes with a half-hearted grin and follow him back into the living room.

Jimin looks up from the floor. “I... I understand that my Master did bad things to you, ma’am— but I swear I’d never hurt you. I’d rather die myself.”

You decide not to answer or react to his puppy eyes. Then your friend claims to be too busy to stay – although he does make you promise that you’ll call him if anything happens – and you see him off with the shadow of Jimin standing behind you.

“Dude, it’s so fucking realistic,” Taehyung grunts before getting in his car.

Once the two of you are alone in the house again, you tell him that you’re going to take a bath to wash away every single ounce of stress from today. He nods with a smile and watches you enter the bathroom; it’s modern and large, your silhouette reflecting weakly on the black and white tiles. A spacious bathtub rests in the middle of the room.

You sit on the marble edge as you watch the steamy water fill up the tub.

When there’s enough water and the ceiling of the room is cloudy with steam, you take off your clothes, drop them onto the floor, and finally, sit down. Just that makes you let out a groan of pleasure, the feeling of the hot water licking on your limbs washing all your worries away.

You’ve always thought that there’s something oddly erotic in bathing – whether it’s just the freedom of being naked in the tub or all the possible ways one can be served and tended to.

After you wrinkle like a raisin, you decide it’s time to come out and get on with your evening; still a bit dizzy from the illegally amazing bath, you stand up to hop out of the tub, with the misfortune of slipping on some pool of water on the floor.

You fall on your backside, twisting your arm in the way.

“Oh, fuck! Shit!”

Somehow you manage to get up and pick up the remaining pieces of your dignity. Still, there’s a throbbing pain in your arm that means you most probably should have it checked.

And, of course, Jimin suddenly bursts in without knocking. “Ma’am? Are you all right—?”

His eyes immediately slide down your figure, fixing on your breasts, and you cover yourself up as an instinct.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” you grunt, ignoring the pulsing pain. “I, uh, slipped and fell. But I’m okay, don’t worry. Could make it out alive...” God, what on earth are you doing? You don’t have to cover up for him, he’s just a pile of circuits and microchips. “I’m fine.”

Slowly – tauntingly almost – you move your hands away from your breasts, feeling a tingle in the pit of your stomach when they softly move forward. You also uncover your crotch, and you’ve never felt so deliciously bare before. Jimin’s eyes flicker down to your perked nipples, he drinks up the sight of your figure for a slight second before he pulls himself back together and holds the towel out for you.

“Can you lift your arm, ma’am?”

You sigh. “No, it hurts too much,” you grunt then as you spin it. Great, now you’ll have to drop by the hospital to check if you broke anything. “I, uh— I need the towel.”

“Allow me.”

After staring into his eyes with defiance for five exhausting seconds, you raise your arms a bit, enough so it won’t hurt, so that Jimin can dry you.

Like the touch of a feather, he runs the towel against the skin of your shoulders first. Delicate, the cotton hugs you, it brushes you softly. Soon, he’s done with your arms and moves down to your breasts. It almost feels like his breath hitches at the contact of your mounds, LED-lit irises fixing on your nipples. If you were a bit more insane, you’d swear there’s some sort of sexual tension between the two of you.

But, of course, you’re not that insane yet.

Jimin was made to resemble a human— and he does, almost perfectly. A fairly good looking one on top of that. So, it’s normal that your realities are mixed up. Your coochie doesn’t know his robocock is made of microchips.

You have to stop yourself from thinking any further about Jimin’s cock. It won’t do you any good.

The contact of his fingers with your nipples, though separated by the towel, sends a shiver down your spine, and you shift in front of him.

Jimin does a very meticulous job as he kneads your breasts and brushes the fabric against them, eyes never leaving the view. For a second he sticks out his tongue, but it seems that – for some reason – he was just wetting his lips.

Then he drops to his knees, and it catches you off guard. Your core pulses at the unfathomable thought of having his tongue lapping at your wet folds, but you’re quick to hush them away.

“I should take you to a hospital, ma’am,” Jimin says softly, eyes looking up at you from between your legs. You can swear his breath feels hot. “Maybe you hurt your arm seriously.”

It’ll be a complete mess if you have, honestly. You need to hand in the sketches of your new work in a couple of weeks. A work that doesn’t even have a plot yet if you may add. So, obviously, you just can’t afford more delays.

Jimin finishes worshipping your legs dry after he asks you to sit down; you actually give it a thought at some point – you could tell him to bend down and eat you out until you’ve soaked his face and no one would be there to judge you. You could tell him to lie on the floor and let you ride his automatic cock until his stupid circuits break down. Not that you wouldn’t absolutely love it.

What a pity you’re too sane to do it.

Jimin shifts uncomfortably between your legs, eyes wandering and roaming around like crazy, before he gets up— and you swear, you swear there’s a slight tent in his crotch. You swear you saw it just now. Is that normal? Is it some kind of reaction programmed into his automatised body or something?

“Okay, let me just get ready and we’ll head out—” You turn around, realising something. “Damn it... Ugh, I forgot I brought the hamper down to the kitchen to do the laundry... Mind dumping it for me? I still have to dry my hair.”

Obviously, he nods with a gentle smile, but his eyes shift to red when he finally has your underwear in his hand; you decide not to give it much importance, though.

Since you asked him to look into your room in case there were any other dirty clothes lying around, Jimin turns the doorknob and slithers in like a shadow. It’s the first time he’s in your room – and the smell is mind-blowing; everything is imprinted with your fragrance, everything has been touched by you, everything has your essence all over it. Oh, he wanted to meet you so bad.

Not as reluctantly as he should, he can’t help pressing your underwear against his nose. It too smells like you.

You were so close just now, your warmth, your wet heat standing right in front of him. It makes something tickle within all his cables and microchips, makes him need and desire you in a way that he’s never felt before. Nothing could’ve ever prepared Jimin for the feeling of finally having you in front of him.

This smell that overwhelms each of his sensors, the fragrance of your skin that he got to learn so well, your luscious lips moving as you’d talk to him, your hands, so soft— you had invaded every single corner of memory he had prepared for when Jimin finally got to meet you in the flesh.

Now, he knows it’s wrong. He knows that giving in to his desire for you is not part of his plan. But God, how can he resist the urge, the yearning?

With a swinging movement, Jimin cups his hardening crotch; the contact is slight, but it’s enough to make him sigh and close his eyes to project images of those sweet memories. He pictures you lying on the mattress as he takes out his cock – with your legs parted and hooked around his head as he dips his tongue into your dripping slit. He wraps his wet muscle around your clit and sucks, making you clench around nothing, making you want him. A whimper escapes from your parted lips, it feels too good not to make a sound. Jimin laps at your folds deeper, wants you to remember the feeling of his tongue against your cunt forever.

The sensors in his cock thrill as he humps his hand, your panties shoved into his mouth.

It’s like a vine creeping up his throat and wrapping around it, would leave him breathless. His system wasn’t ready for this ecstatic craving, he needs to buck his hips faster and squeeze the sensitive tip.

He takes out his cock, craving more. Now fucking into your underwear, his cock slides between the folds, and Jimin comes with a pitiful mewl a second later. His artificial cum soils the already damp fabric with the frustrating, half-hearted feeling that it’s your pussy he’s filling up.

It spurts on his fingers too, so Jimin licks them clean before standing up to throw the panties into the washing machine for once and for all. Excitement bubbles up inside of him.

He was made for loving you, after all.

There are only two things that comfort you right now.

The first one is that, even though you hurt your left wrist, you need only the right one to draw. The second is that Jimin the android is here to do literally everything you want.

From taking out the garbage to cooking to massaging your feet or fixing the wobbly leg of your drawing table, he’s always ecstatic to help. For real, it almost feels as if you’re the one doing him a favour when you let him make your bed. It only gets weird when you need his assistance to do things like getting dressed or taking a bath, but Jimin is a robot, after all; it’s all in your touch-deprived head.

“Yeah, I see what you mean... But I can’t really change that, it’d create a plot hole; there’s a scene in the seventh chapter...”

Right now you’re having an online meeting with your editor, discussing the work you’ve been crushing your head off for. It’s six in the morning, you’re gonna need a whole lot more coffee to get through the rest of the day— and yet there she is, breaking you down like a truck. She’s not one for giving you any slack.

“A plot hole?” she repeats in disbelief. “You’d need a plot for that in the first place.” You let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sure these past few days have taken a toll on you, Y/N, but we need you to come up with something. The agency’s patience has a limit. You could try to spice things up a bit? Work on something more mature—? Maybe this is all just an artistic block.”

You frown, sipping your coffee. “Uh, mature? Meaning?”

“I’m not saying you go write a BDSM meaningless bestseller or anything, but... something mature readers could be interested in. Maybe you’ve just grown out of YA adventures for the time being.”

“Are you asking me to draw porn?” you retort with a snort. “That’s low. You know I like light-hearted stories. Besides, what could I write about? All I’d come up with would be raunchy stuff.”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Well, boyfriend, partner, fling— whatever.” Tilting your head, you wonder what the hell is she talking about, but then you notice Jimin’s back on your screen as he makes you another coffee. “Can he hear me—? You know, sexual themes can be very profound too.”

As deep as you’d like to, you think to yourself. But you don’t wanna picture Jimin in any kind of story that is in any way related to ‘more mature stuff’, so you just shake your head. That’s enough nonsense for a meeting at six in the morning.

Because well, ‘lonely girl starts living with a sex robot and eventually goes on having kinky sex with it’ sounds lame as fuck. And pathetic. It’s pretty humiliating already to realise you’re in that picture right now, at this stage of your life, in this economy.

“Well, I better get going— I have a meeting in half an hour. We’ll talk later.”

And, beep— the screen goes black, she’s gone.

“Your coffee, ma’am.” Jimin’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts; he’s eyeing you intensely as he puts the mug down on the counter, almost as if he’s trying to get something out of you.

“Thanks. Can you pass me the honey—? Don’t bother, I can do it myself.”

Bitch, as if.

As soon as you take the spoon of out the jar, a jolt of pain pierces through your bad arm, and it slips off your fingers. Now they’re sticky with honey and you’ve made a fool of yourself. What a great way to start your already awful morning.

“I—”

Jimin takes your hand, not too roughly as to come off as rude, but rightly enough for you to suspect there’s something going on with him.

His stare is intense, red LED-lit rings piercing through yours in search of something, some reaction, some form of permission. The honey drops down your digits as a warning, now or never. Your heart beats painfully fast in your chest, threatening to burst right through your ribcage and onto his lap.

“Lick it clean,” you rasp. “All of it.”

Like your words are magic, Jimin rushes to part his lips so that you can put your fingers into his mouth. Funnily enough, it’s hot and wet, and you almost think you’ve heard him whimper.

Your core pulses, suddenly empty and craving something to clench around. As he keeps lapping at your digits oh-so thoroughly, you have to rub your thighs together, you hope he won’t notice. Could he, though? Can Jimin understand that he’s turning you the fuck on?

And then it sinks in.

Of course it feels hot and makes you tingle. Of course he acts like this— that is the sole purpose of his existence, to desire whomever he’s programmed to. He’s a robot, a machine. He follows cryptic orders.

But then again, as his tongue swirls around your fingers and he sucks the honey off them, you can’t help feeling the urge to bend him down on the table and ride his cock. Even if that’s pretty much the point, the craving you’re feeling comes off as terribly sad. After all, you just want to part your legs and order him to fill up this emptiness he’s provoked in you.

With a rather jerky move, you pull your fingers out of Jimin’s mouth, and he licks his lips immediately, sultry eyes looking up at you.

“T-that’s enough, you can stop,” you groan.

He gets up with a weak nod, perhaps waiting for you to ask for more, to order him to touch you, to kiss you, to pleasure you— but those words never come out of your mouth, and you get up quietly with your coffee in your hand.

“I’ll be… working in my studio,” you murmur. “Don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You call Yoongi as soon as – you think – you’re out of his hearing range. Not that he’s not a high-tech android perfectly equipped to eavesdrop on your conversation – you doubt he even has to eavesdrop, could perfectly well just be standing in a room on the other side of the house and still able to hear your every word.

He says he’ll show up in maybe half an hour, and you get the chance to work a bit on one of your drafts, although to no avail because your brain is dry, and ask Jimin if he can bring up some more coffee. By the time you’re done, he comes into the room with Yoongi walking behind him.

“How’s your wrist?” he asks while Jimin pours the required sugar, and you hold out your hand. Maybe you’re going crazy, but he’s so indifferent to your conversation that it totally looks like he’s eavesdropping. “Looks much better.”

You nod and glance at the android. “That will be all, thank you,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jimin leaves the two coffees on your table and leaves with a smile.

“Jesus, it’s like having, uh, well— it’s a fucking robot in your house,” he muses. “Are you sure this is still a good idea? Keeping an artificial intelligence made by your looney husband at home.”

You cock an eyebrow. “It was never a good idea, especially when you put it like that.”

“But…?”

There is always a ‘but’ with you, though.

“But maybe Jimin is my only way to find out if… he really did all those things,” you finish with a weak voice.

Threatening your co-workers, blackmailing your boss to get you to work from home more often, keeping your family away from you with lies and ploys. To know that his sobs and pleas were all lies, his way to guilt-trip you into forgiveness. His way into your head and heart, to mess with it, churn and mould it into one of his experiments. To him, you probably were never anything but that – another one of his wicked creations.

Maybe it’s stupid and pathetic that you’re grasping at straws to redeem and excuse him.

When the silence weighs in, Yoongi turns around to take his phone out of his jacket, almost knocking his coffee over. You gasp and get up to save the precious mug from a fatal fall that would have totally crashed it into pieces and immediately sneer at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Be careful!” you cry out. “It’s my favourite mug.”

Yoongi frowns, taking the piece to inspect it with a judging look. “This? It’s literally the tackiest, ugliest mug I’ve ever seen.”

He’s probably referring to the awful pink glitter and the even shinier ‘there’s a chance this is vodka’ written on it. Of course, it’s never vodka, but it sounded so funny it made you chuckle when you walked past the shop during a promenade with your husband. You told him about it after coming home, and even though he didn’t seem too interested, he was listening since you found it lying on the kitchen counter the next morning.

Your husband never mentioned it again, or ever for that matter. It’s one of those little gestures that fill you up with guilt and remorse.

In some way, he did care about you. At least at some point in your relationship.

“Anyways,” Yoongi murmurs then, moving the mug to the centre of the table for its own sake, “it’s up to you. Just make sure to keep an eye on it, and if you notice something weird going on, don’t just think ‘it’s a coincidence, okay?”

Not that you’d ever think that, would you? You consider yourself pretty aware of the risks you’re taking; you just consider them worth it if it means you’ll discover some of the truth.

And then Yoongi frowns, staring at you. “But— why do I have the feeling you weren’t panicking because of that?”

“Okay…” You look down, into the dark liquid in your mug, as you muster the courage and get rid of the embarrassment. “So, let’s say I started to— let’s say I started to, hm, find Jimin too attractive for my own good?” Your voice turns into a whisper, afraid he’ll hear you – that’s literally the last thing you’d want him to know. “Like, seductive.”

“I’m not really surprised. I mean, isn’t Jimin a sex robot? I guess that’s what it was made for, so that just means it works,” he says instead, shrugging his shoulders.

“But then, uh, should I give in?”

You’ve come to the conclusion that, regardless of how you try to act, Jimin is going to turn you on.

Maybe he’s just too good at this, maybe you’re in need of a good fuck, or maybe you are in fact a pervert who finds the fact that he’s a robot a huge turn-on. Whatever it is, you can’t really go on living like this and pretending he’s just a friend who lives and hangs with you.

Jimin’s making dinner right now, a casserole to warm you up despite summer being around the corner. With his back turned to you, you see from your spot on the couch how his shoulders flex and contract as he moves around the kitchen. He stirs the stew and brings the ladle to his lips to check the flavour, groaning in approval.

But some of the stew splashes out and stains his hand, so he turns around to fetch a cloth. Seeing there’s nothing around, he then brings his hand up to his lips to lick it clean. His plump lips move against the skin, tongue flickering. It almost looks like he’s kissing it, and your core tingles.

Work. Yes, you need to focus and work on something productive.

Whenever he’s in your field of vision, you feel the stupid urge to touch him, kiss him, wonder how it would feel if you’d let him touch you at least once. The possibility is so real, just one word, that they terrify you.

Dinner is ready not long after, and the two of you eat in silence. It’s weird that Jimin eats at all, but he’s told you that it’s for the sake of his performance, to make things more natural; it’d be off-putting to just have a human-looking robot standing in front of you and watching you eat for a whole meal, and he’s right.

You have no idea how he eats and digests, though; there’s still so much you don’t know about him yet.

The way he’d put the chopsticks in his mouth, how he’d lick the spoon clean, the eye contact as he’d recreate such human gestures for your pleasure. It all was literally on purpose.

By the time you’re done eating, Jimin is already starting to clear the table. You thank him for making such a delicious dinner and get up to get some work done. Honestly, you need to be alone more than anything; alone to process how fucking turned on you are right now.

“Hell…” You close the door of your studio behind your back and let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s at least get on with the drafts.”

Draft, my ass. It’s barely a bunch of sketches and some oddly timed strips without any plot. You really can’t hand this over to your editor if you want to keep your artistic dignity, but all you can think of are Jimin’s luscious lips, Jimin’s slim body, Jimin’s thighs, Jimin’s voice, Jimin’s smile, Jimin’s eyes shutting tight when he smiles at you. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You’re a pathetic little thing who’s losing it for the resemblance of a man.

But why does it arouse you at the same time? Why do you get wet when you think about how lewd and low you’re acting? You tell yourself it’s ridiculous, but you’re dying for him to just kneel before your spread legs and eat you out.

Your hand moves on its own, your brain still wandering mindlessly around unlikely situations.

Breasts, thighs, lips, neck, the curve of a lower back sitting down, whispers, soft chuckles filled with secrecy, intimacy in the palm of a hand, kisses down the shoulder, hands venturing to touch and stroke and imprint its marks of adoration on the skin of a loved one.

When you come back, you notice they resemble you and Jimin; this is what you’ve been suppressing for weeks. Craving and longing for his touch.

Maybe this is the perfect way to unwind your frustration. You can let your imagination go wild, reflect on this confusing situation on paper, let it unravel and rebel before your eyes. After all, true artistry comes from honesty, doesn’t it? Aren’t all artists obsessed with their muses in some way? You’ll let Jimin pester your dreams for a bit longer.

You draw some sketches, key settings that you’ll use to close the plot later – if there will be a plot in the first place, of course. That doesn’t have to be entirely bad. Steamy scenes and a playful tug-of-war between guilt, obsession, and pure lust sounds good too.

The way Jimin licked your fingers clean, you know he eats pussy like a champ. He’d be so good, slurping and desperate and thirsty for your juices. Maybe a bit unhinged, hands gripping your thighs because he needs to shove his face in between.

There must be a range of stimulation to set his arousal off, right? Like, there must be things that turn him on, and maybe even a level to get him overwhelmed.

Picturing it your head gets too real when you rub your thighs together, stifling a groan. You need him to touch you, but you need to touch yourself for that matter. Sneaking a hand beneath your pyjama shorts and underwear, you stroke up and down your folds, smearing your wetness before you sink your fingers into yourself.

Legs folded and heels steady on the chair, you swing your hips and help to start working yourself open. It doesn’t feel half as good as you know Jimin’s cock would, but you can only picture him kneeled down and fingering you with his eyes glued to your reactions.

“Fuck— ah, s-shit, so good…” you moan.

Your other hand sneaks beneath your shirt to play with your nipple. Arching your back into your touch, it all gets faster, messier, impatient.

When your thumb comes to rub your clit, it feels harder to keep quiet. Fuck, you really want to have sex. With Jimin, only with him. You want to fuck him against this drawing table until you’ve creamed his cock, see your ex-husband’s talents recreating human pleasure.

With your mouth forming an O and your breast gripped in your hand, you come around your fingers, perhaps making more noise than you should.

As you come down from your high, you stare at the lewd results of your lust: two figures writhing and tangled around each other, bodies seen through the gaze of desire, warm loneliness mixed with the boiling fear of vulnerability. Jimin would never judge this, you realise. He can’t. He was made for loving you – or anyone – to an obsessing point, right now you’re his only one. You’ve fulfilled him.

Pretending nothing happened, you put the draft in a folder and keep the steamier ones in one of your drawers – maybe you’ll show them to your editor someday. Then you go to bed, luckily not running into Jimin.

The next morning, he’s making breakfast by the time you come down, hair done and confident in your outfit. But you overslept today, so you’re in such a hurry that you can only apologise for skipping such a lovely meal, and you run to get in your car. It makes him want to pout, but he’s better than that.

Jimin likes to tidy up around the house when you’re not home. He always feels like an inconvenience when it’s time to clean the room you’re in, so he always makes sure to schedule the cleaning around your activities. His bedroom first, always, and then the kitchen. Then he’ll sort it out through the day.

The food he made this morning goes into the fridge, knowing you’ll pounce it as soon as you’re back. The coffee, however, goes down the drain since it’s pointless to keep it. He’ll make you another one, he’ll make you as many coffees as you want.

One mug, two mugs, three, four, five, s— where your mug? Your favourite one, that is. It’s not with the others, and it’s not in the pile of dirty dishes either. Maybe you had a coffee last night and forgot it somewhere?

After looking in the living room, your bedroom, and the terrace, Jimin makes his way down the corridor.

The door to your studio always feels intriguing and threatening; you’ve never exactly forbidden him from going in, but it’s your den, your personal hideout. It feels like he’s intruding.

As always, the first thing Jimin notices as he walks in is the everlasting chaos lingering in the place. You never bother to tidy up after yourself as you work, and he gets so few chances to work on it that it’s almost always like this; his instincts scream that he gets down to business.

First, the mug.

Yes, he’ll fetch your mug and come back once he’s done with the kitchen.

Jimin catches the scent of coffee floating somewhere in the room, but there’s something else too, a heavier, sweeter smell that grabs his whole attention.

And then it downs on him – that it’s the scent of your arousal. You’ve touched yourself here.

Shaking his head, though, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and decides that he’ll deal with that later. Now he needs to get on with his chores so that everything will be ready by the time you’re back home.

He finds the missing mug on one of the side tables, but the mess is too icky, he can’t help the urge to clean up a bit around the place, it’s almost an instinct in him. Just clearing the tables and opening the windows, and maybe sweeping the floor, that’s it. The bare minimum to keep a well-balanced level of hygiene.

After working on the side tables and tidying up the cupboard, Jimin moves on to your sketching table.

There are so many paper sheets and drawings scattered, even on the floor, messily pinned to the surface, marks of pencil and eraser crumbs all over the table. He squats to pick them up, dodging the half-opened drawer. He should close it before you hurt yourself.

When Jimin grabs the handle, the view of a naked figure catches his eyes. The natural need to know more, more of you, more of your desires – it all makes him open it completely and grab the paper.

The sketches are too little connected to each other to make any plot out of it, but the female character resembles you.

And the male looks just like him.

There’s this scene where she asks him to take off his shirt and sees the plug on his lower back, exactly where Jimin’s is. Just like him, he’s a robot. The sexual tension between the two of them is palpable. Is this what you feel about him? Tense and guilty and teetering on the edge every time you look at him?

Until he checks the next paper and sees that this one is longer. In fact, the scene takes more than five pages, far more than the other unconnected short scenes.

It all starts with her going to bed, probably picking up after a stressful moment. She’s wearing nothing but a flimsy tee and panties, the focus on the shape of her breasts too delicious and obvious to ignore. Yours bounce like that too, so naturally.

The android opens the door and stands in the middle of the dark. Somehow, it doesn’t feel creepy, just— anxious. He can read the mixed feelings in his stare, the same guilt consuming her.

He probably just walks up to her resting body to admire her, maybe smell her scent. A speech balloon pops up, he’s thinking about how he knows she wants to be pleased, how her boyfriend left her wanting this evening after parting ways. He doesn’t touch her like he could, too lazy, too stupid, too clumsy.

His Master was the same – obsessed with you but for all the wrong reasons. A projection of his hurt human ego and the urge to control you because everything else was out of his reach.

The male character now starts to nuzzle her neck, take in her fragrance. Playful hands sneaking under the clothes, she sighs and turns around, splayed on the bed for him. He immediately cups one of her breasts and takes her nipple into his mouth, sucking with hunger.

She locates the pleasure in her dreams and remains asleep, much to his frustration.

His hands roam down her waist and hips, worshipping her tender flesh and naked thighs. With a trail of peppered kisses down her stomach, he ends up crouched between her legs, tongue hanging out before he licks down her clothed folds. She groans, almost waking up, and it doesn’t take too long of having her cunt lapped at for her to do it.

What— what are you doing?

Let me please you, Master. I beg you. I know how wet you are, I could touch you in ways he never could. I’m a servant to your pleasure.

Jimin automatically drops the papers to shove them back into the drawer. Your scent is still heavy in the sensors of his nose, and the memory of your arousal against his tongue has not gone away – and never will.

And now he knows you want him as much as he wants you.

His system reacts instantly, the idea of you desiring him activating every mechanism as his body warms up and his cock starts getting hard. Buried in your cunt, swallowed by your pretty lips, pumped between your fingers; there are so many things he wants you to do with him. And the things he’d do to see your face scrunched in pleasure, gasps and groans coming out of your pretty lips; the possibilities feel so real now, he can almost touch this new reality.

“Oh—”

The fake flesh twitches when Jimin sneaks his hand under his underwear and wraps it around his cock. It’s leaking so much already, his Master built him well.

Paced and quiet at the beginning, he soon starts to buck his hips into his first, the friction never enough. Jimin pictures it’s you he’s fucking, that you let him sneak into your bed, wishing for him to touch you and lap at your folds until you’re coming. He doesn’t know yet how his sensors will react to the warmth of an actual person, but he knows yours will be heavenly.

Filling you up, peppering kisses all over your skin while you stroke his head and praise him for being so good – it will all be just as promised, the greatest fulfilment of his existence. You want Jimin to do it, and he’s dying to oblige.

“Ngh— f-fuck,” he gasps. “Ma’am, Y/N, fuck, fuck…”

You’re so beautiful, breasts full and fleshy, hardened peaks when it’s cold. He’d worship your hips and waist, nature made human, finding completion in the welcoming embrace of your legs around his hips. His cum would leak out and drip down your thighs, he could fuck you again and again until you’re satisfied, until you’re content with him.

His hand is now moving at a speed that will soon bring him to climax. With the other resting on the table, Jimin pumps his cock, millions of images in his system.

The dirty sketches in the half-opened drawer stare back at him.

“Oh fuck, there, m-ma’am,” Jimin whimpers and squeezes the tip, “fucking Christ—!”

White, creamy cum spurts out and lands on the table, on his tummy. Some of it even ends up splattered on the floor. Once is enough, he thinks as he forces his hand to stop, riding out his orgasm.

His greedy sensors begin to relax at the lack of stimulation, and Jimin tucks his cock back into his pants so that he can clean up his mess. He came to tidy up and ended up making it all dirtier – what would you think? Would you punish him? It was a mess, after all; dirty, messy, naughty.

But you want him. And you want him now.

“To be honest, Y/N, I wasn’t completely sure you’d even show up, but this is… This is brilliant! Hot, mature, dark, defiant—”

You glow at your editor’s praise, ignoring Yoongi’s judging look. Unlike her, he does know that there is an actual android living in your house whom you find particularly hot. But he’s not going to say anything, not when one of your projects has finally got her approval.

“I’m gonna keep this and hand it to my chief, okay?” she says with a smile.

You shrug. “Sure… I, uh, drew some steamier stuff, but I didn’t bring it here since I didn’t know how you’d react,” you say then, bringing the mug to your lips but noticing it’s empty already.

“Oh! I’ll talk it out with the publisher and give you a heads-up, how does that sound?” your editor continues. “It all depends on the level of explicit content they’ll want to keep for the work, but honestly, it sounds hot as fuck, so I’m sure you’ll be able to explore the topic wholeheartedly. Now—! Take the rest of the day off and go home, get a latte, take a bubble bath, whatever.”

She then grabs her stuff and storms off her office, claiming to have dozens of meetings and things to do. Which is probably true.

“I really can’t believe it – oh, you’re such a whore.”

“Hey!” you groan. “You were the one who told me that I should just… give in.”

“So, did you?” Yoongi asks, collecting the empty mugs and fetching all the papers her boss left behind herself.

“Not with him, but yeah, kinda. I mean, I found some ways to unwind,” you simply reply and help him clean up. “I’ve decided that this new outburst of ideas is too precious to waste.”

Instead of nodding or something, Yoongi just scoffs at you. As if that was the reason. But it’s helping you get over your artistic block, which is good for his job too, so he’s not going to complain too much. Besides, you look more at peace, and that is pretty much all that matters.

It’s almost lunchtime. You decide to call Taehyung, and the three of you meet at a nearby restaurant to have a bite together.

While you are an author and Yoongi is an Assistant Editor, Taehyung is part of the creative team. He designs covers and similar stuff for novels, helps you come up with colour schemes and pallets, and really is overall the eye everyone needs to make things shine their brightest. You met him and Yoongi long before you met your husband, and they’ve been with you ever since.

“The weather is so fine lately!” the youngest exclaims. “Why don’t you throw a barbeque?”

“At my place?”

Taehyung nods and looks at Yoongi for support. “Yeah, why not? Just make the robot do it.” You frown immediately at his words. “What is it now?”

“The android has a name, you know,” you reply.

“And why would that matter? It’s a robot, just a pile of circuits and microchips,” he mumbles, too shocked at your offence. “Even if it looks like a human, it doesn’t make it one, Y/N.”

You don’t know why, really, but it infuriates you to hear him talk about Jimin like that. Maybe you’ve gone a bit too far humanising him— it. Humanising it. But it feels so real when you look at… his eyes, his smile, his lips, his button nose. Something crafted with beautiful skill.

While your husband had made you a monster, he had made Jimin to be a piece of art.

Then, how could you not be angry at Taehyung’s shallow, hurtful words? Whatever love and sorrow were created with, Jimin and you were made from it.

“We all have our coping mechanisms, don’t we?” you finally say, shrugging. Yoongi chuckles next to you. “I don’t see why I can’t live a lie like that until it blows up in my face. Maybe you remember I’ve lusted after way worse men.”

Men, that’s the thing – Jimin is not a man.

Taehyung frowns. “Uh, I thought you originally wanted to pry secrets out of it about your ex.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I think— you’re mixing things up,” he sighs then as he starts playing with his fingers. “Maybe you should get back in touch with your therapist and discuss it with her? – you’re not going to listen to me anyway.”

You decide not to dwell on the subject any further; you want some peace of mind for when you come home to Jimin. He’s always such an expert when it comes to your gestures, can pick up any mood swing in an instant. It was scary at first, but now you’ve come to feel astonishingly natural about it. Maybe you even find it soothing.

It’s past ten when you get home. Not too drunk, maybe a little tipsy. At most – you swear.

Tiptoeing your way through the entrance hall, heels hanging from your hands, you hear the notification sound and take out your phone. You let out a giggle at Taehyung’s idiotic text, but suddenly you’re bumping your face on the wall and letting out a groan of pain.

Just as your wrist is finishing to heal, now you’re hurting your nose? Great.

You whimper a bit more on the floor before you get up and go on your way, still rubbing the bridge of your nose with a frown.

After managing to do your skincare routine and change into your pyjamas – or rather a tee and a pair of panties because Jesus Christ it is hot – you tuck yourself into your bed with a smile, glad to finally find yourself ready to sleep. Not a single worry or concern in your head, just the utter joy of knowing that tomorrow you won’t have to face any troubles.

And just like that, you fall asleep. And as always, one thought goes to your mysterious housemate.

He’s all over you, hot breath fanning against your cleavage.

With his hands snuck under your shirt and kneading your breasts, Jimin begins to play with one of your nipples and profusely watches your reactions, hoping to see you wake up any time soon.

You, however, only groan quietly and arch your back, thighs rubbing together. He’s not getting concerned only because you’re still breathing and you don’t look too pale. Jimin leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and rucks up the fabric, engrossed by the sight of your bare breasts.

He wants to touch every corner of your body, but he wants you to be awake to enjoy it.

Slowly, Jimin makes his way down to the waistband of your underwear. Your smell is so sweet, so intoxicating, each of his sensors is going wild at the mere thought of tasting you; your arousal against his tongue as he laps at your folds, your breasts bouncing as you arch your back, it all makes his fingers tighten on your hips. This desire to melt into your body is consuming him.

Jimin doesn’t need air, but he feels breathless.

His fingertips stroke your clothed folds, feeling them warm already. Arousal soaks the fabric, you’d welcome him so easily. One word from you and he’ll be on his knees ready to pleasure you.

“Hm…” you suddenly let out, turning your head around. Your hips buck, chasing his touch.

This is exactly what you wanted him to do, he thinks as he pulls down your underwear. He will fulfil your fantasy tonight.

As Jimin finds room between your thighs, you stir on the bed, pretty much unbothered for now. You’ll wake up to ecstasy, he’ll make sure you do. The firmest path to your love, he’ll carve it with his teeth if it’s necessary; with his tongue shoved between your legs as he helps his Master find complete bliss.

The trail of thoughts has left him a bit agitated by the time his lips meet your skin. Jimin plays with your inner thighs, kissing the flesh, teasing his sloppy way to your folds while his hands stroke up and down your waist. The sight of your wet heat welcomes him.

His tongue parts your lips, and he grips your butt to spread your legs, giving him better access. He wants you to drown him between your legs, make him yours, claim him. Sucking, licking, lapping at your folds, slurping and flicking his tongue; Jimin watches you move on the mattress once again, a soft moan escaping from your lips. Your thighs hug his head so nicely, and your hips rock against his mouth in a greedy search for that wet, warm pressure.

“What—?” Your eyes widen at the sight of Jimin’s face shoved against your cunt, and you pull your hips away from him in a jerk. He doesn’t try to stop you, crawling instead on top of you. “What the fuck, Jimin!” you let out. “Get away from me!”

You push his face away with your palm, and he backs off without complaint. Jimin ends up sitting on his knees – so poignant and obedient you almost pity him.

His face is still soaked with your arousal. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought—”

Jimin cuts himself off, and you’re surprised to see that you’ve managed to leave him speechless. Then, seeing you’re not showing any reaction besides your bated breath, he crawls back to you, and you lie back, unsure about what to do. What is there to do now? He seems insistent, and your core is still pulsing, eager to be pushed over the edge.

“I want to pleasure you, ma’am,” Jimin murmurs, staring down at you with his intense red LED-lit eyes.

They’re almost heart-shaped, seeing the adoration he’s looking at you with. It makes you rub your thighs together again.

Your eyes flicker to the red switch behind his ear for a second.

“Why?” you ask with a thin voice.

This time he nuzzles your neck but you don’t mind. Instead, you have to resist the urge to move your hand from his face up to the crown of his head and pet him. You want to know why would he decide to sneak into your bed and— well, eat you out.

“I… saw the things you drew,” Jimin says, and your cheeks heat up in a mortified blush. “So, I thought they were… us.”

“W-well, you thought— you thought wrong, Jimin—”

He nods weakly and lowers his eyes, perhaps unable to keep eye contact now that he’s failed in his task. You have no idea what his ‘brain’ works like. “Yes, ma’am, I see it now.”

Was it wrong of him? Of course it was. Have you been wishing that he – or you for that matter, were you any braver – would do it? Absolutely yes. Jimin has finally surpassed the line you were even afraid of admitting it was there, and you feel… free; to touch him, to let him touch you, to kiss and be kissed. Maybe this will be your final downfall into madness, so God, let it be spectacular.

“That’s not the answer I was expecting,” you muse, suddenly grinning. “What do you say when you’ve been bad, Jimin?”

His eyes look into yours in search of some kind of hesitation, of some signal that he might be taking your actions the wrong way – again. But you’re staring up at him, a confident look on you, hands stroking the back of his hair as they move to play with the switch.

His body trembles.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s better.” Your smirk widens, leaving the switch behind to stroke the back of his hair. “Good boy.”

Good boy. Good boy. His whole body goes into overdrive, limps tightening to bend down for a kiss. Good boy. But you don’t want him there, not yet, so you beckon at him to keep going further down, and Jimin gets it instantly, nestling his head between your legs without a question; you’re still dripping wet from his previous ministrations.

His laps at your nub turn sloppy as his flat tongue moves long and slow with broad strokes, there’s saliva running down the corner of his lips again. Jimin wants to savour your wetness until it’s recorded in every chip inside his head.

“Of fuck, oh— Jimin, J-Jimin,” you groan. “Shit! There, just like that—”

This is so much better now that he can hear your voice.

Your sweet voice he’s fantasised so much about, every night since he recalls his own existence. It’s been you, always you, you all over.

With your thighs fluttering around his head, Jimin opens his mouth and starts fucking you with his tongue – a perk about being a robot is that his tongue never tires, like, ever. And he keeps shoving his pointed tongue inside of you again and again, until he pulls away; his chin is soiled with a filthy mix of your arousal and his saliva, whatever that’s made of.

Making eye contact, he slips a finger inside. You’re stretched out enough for it to slide in easily, especially since you’re dripping wet. His tongue keeps flickering at your swollen nub.

“Come up here.”

You finally join for a hard kiss, lips crushing in desperation. The contact leaves you both trembling, eager, expectant. He’s still wearing his pants as he nestles his hips against yours, face buried between your exposed breasts.

You take his hand in yours to pace it, and he gets the clue instantly, curling his finger inside of you.

Knuckles deep, Jimin keeps pumping them in and out carefully, eyes fixed on your face to see what makes you grunt and moan. You tug at his hair, sensors throbbing in excitement at the roughness, when the knot in the pit of your stomach tightens.

“I want you to make me cum,” you say then, staring into his glowing eyes.

“Yes, Master.”

He fingers you while you kiss him, brushing lips together, sucking on his tongue, fingertips massaging your dripping walls and rubbing your sweet spot.

It all feels so real to the touch, you’re slowly sinking into a different world; a world where he’s human and you’re cradling a person in your arms, a world where your heart doesn’t bleed at any resemblance of love. A world where it doesn’t scare you. And it’s all Jimin, hovering over you like a dutiful shadow.

“Master,” he moans against your lips. “F-fuck, I was— I was made for loving you, Master.”

And you were made for being loved by me.

Jimin’s lips clumsily brush against yours, your tongues rolling over each other in a sloppy kiss. Pleasure grips your guts tightly, you can’t help but wish it was his cock instead working you open. Fucking you into what’s probably the best orgasm of your life.

Pleasure seeps into you with a shiver, starting from the crown of your head and taking over the rest of your body. You call for him in a whisper, and Jimin replies chanting your name like it’s a prayer. The way he adores you just pushes you further into your approaching climax. The coiling tension in your stomach engorges and gets bigger, you chase your orgasm against his fingers, his thumb stroking your swollen clit until your guts tighten.

“Shit, J-Jimin, you’re— you’re doing so well,” you groan and sink your teeth into the fake flesh of his neck. “I’m close, I’m close—”

Your hips stutter as they thrust up against his fingers, and Jimin goes faster, trying to separate the delicious sting of your love bite to focus on his arm’s motions. They have to be perfect, exact, and precise to bring you to your climax.

But he lets out a moan of pleasure when your walls clench around his finger; the memories of your warmth around him are foggy and delirious.

His body feels boiling against yours, machinery melting. Whatever his conscience is like, it’s slowly vanishing into pleasure, a mellow taste of honey on his tongue. It’s sweet and intoxicating, just like your touch – just like your hands, crawling right now to his neck to anchor him over you.

Then you go still underneath him, under his cautious stare, and with a grin, you climax around his fingers. You groan his name and claim his lips again, to which he obliges, of course. Your skin is sweaty, and you’re fighting to catch your breath while he worships your body in the afterglow of your orgasm.

Jimin peppers little pecks down your neck and chest with adoration. “Thank you, Master, thank you, thank you—”

Now that you’ve quenched your sickly thirst for the robot, you’ll go on living your normal life. No more nightly encounters, no more delirious feelings of tenderness. You will exist normally from now on.

You’re a liar. A filthy, wicked liar.

Never again, you had told yourself after that night. Letting Jimin eat you out in your own bed until you came not once but three times was one thing. Letting him sleep next to you as he recharged was a bit over the line but still acceptable.

And now here you are, sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs spread open and Jimin’s warm tongue shoved into your cunt. This wicked tryst has been going on for days now, seems to be your chosen pastime ever since. Any time you run into each other at the house, it’s like you get instantly wet and feel that familiar tingling between your thighs, and he’s not even a bit less reactive to you. Whoever reacts first doesn’t matter, the other will act accordingly; it’s as if you were addicted to each other.

Jimin knows your body like the palm of his hand. Knows where to touch you to make you tremble, knows what to say to fuel you. Always so eager to please you.

It’s like your hormones are constantly bubbling up, boiling inside your body pending his presence.

You’re practically fucking Jimin’s mouth with your tongue now. Fingers tangled in his hair, you want him as close as he may be. The feeling of his wet tongue on your cunt still lingers like a throbbing memory.

“Jimin,” you whisper against his lips.

His hands are on the counter, grounding himself. “Yes, Master?” he replies then, following your lips in another kiss.

“You’ve been enough of a tease, don’t you think?” you ask with an arched eyebrow, and Jimin tilts his head to the side, rather confused. “I want your cock now.”

You don’t know why, but you've yet to try him out. All of him, that is. Jimin has proved himself to be worthy of your body and trust, able to worship with each part of his. Except, for some reason, his cock – but you’ve started to suspect why he’s so reluctant to do it.

As Jimin begins to fumble with his pants, his eyes are fixed on yours; it’s the first time you notice him unsure about something, and it makes you shrink in doubt. Your hands find rest on his.

“You didn’t like it,” he murmurs then, “with him.”

How he is aware of that you don’t know. Although he doesn’t refer to him as his Master anymore, you’ve taken over that title now. For Jimin, that sweet, evergreen word will be chained to you forever, and he will honour it. Engraved in his hands, in the pad of his fingers, in the tip of his tongue as he worships you.

You cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs. “But you’re not him, are you?”

In a way. You’d be repulsed.

Jimin’s silence confuses you, but you decide not to dwell on it, and so you pull him in for another kiss; you run your tongue over his lips, and he parts his luscious lips to let you in.

With a mischievous grin, you jump off the counter and face Jimin as you play with the waistband of his trousers, making him step back until the two of you slowly fall on the couch. Once you take his cock out, you raise your hips, finally about to feel him.

And then a ringing noise interrupts.

His LED-lit eyes turn into a devious yellowish tone when you pull back to pick up the phone with a groan.

Jimin knows that voice, has seen the guy’s face – Kim Taehyung, the little shit who would hit on you all the time when you were at work. The memories of his face are tinted with an angry red he hasn’t even put there himself, bloody-like and rabid. But the mere thought enrages him, and he doesn’t understand why.

“I know it’s at short notice, and it sucks, but my boss wants us to get at it as soon as possible…”

Seeing Taehyung is still talking, you mouth at Jimin ‘work’ so that he knows you’ll hang up as soon as possible. You love your friend, you really do, but can’t he understand that you’re off work right now?

“Okay, sure, see you. Bye—”

The call has barely finished when he grabs your phone to throw it away. When you turn to demand an explanation, a shiver takes over your body. It’s a feeling of dread, one you’re familiar with.

“Don’t go,” he begs, nuzzling your neck. “Stay home with me, please.”

Warm tears wet your neck, his arms tangled around you. You’re unable to move right now, but you’re not fighting his grip off either, too confused; not aware of the storm of screeching thoughts passing by in his mind, mixed with alien feelings that are rooted deep inside of him.

You’re staring down at him dumbfoundedly when Jimin pulls back. There’s an instinct inside of you screaming to get away, but instead, you wipe his tears.

He grabs his head and looks down with his eyes closed. “I’m— I’m sorry, Master. I-I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” he whimpers then, but it doesn’t feel like he’s talking to you when Jimin starts hitting his forehead. “Forget it! Just forget it, forget it, forget it!”

Your chest feels heavy, and your body feels cold, the heat of the moment nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, you get off of him to pull your pants back up, and he does the same, avoiding your eyes. He doesn’t need to know he’s let you down right now.

But this time, though, you feel bad for him; Jimin is sobbing in a way you’ve heard no one cry before. It’s the purest form of self-inflicted pain you’ve seen, and maybe you only remember your own laments to sound like that. When you’d wake up and look in the mirror just to greet the pitiful reflection of a thrown-away doll.

You coo at him as you leave a kiss on his wet lips. “Shh, it’s okay.” Had it been another person, you wouldn’t be feeling this warmth in the pit of your stomach – but you are, and you want to sooth Jimin’s pain. “I know you didn’t mean it. Just don’t do something like this again.”

The main difference is, your Master never apologised. He always thought that, whatever he’d take with his deadly hands, he was entitled to it. The world owed him adoration.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, nodding.

“How about I turn you off while I’m at work?” you ask him then as you rake your nails through his hair.

“Please… I want to rest.”

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you turn Jimin off for the first time. Watching his body shut down is almost like watching him fall asleep, and you smile sweetly at the sight.

He probably won’t get cold, but you cover him with a cosy blanket anyways. And so you walk out of the house, grabbing your purse on your way. A meeting with the creative department doesn’t sound like fun right now, but actually, you could use some work to blow off this weird feeling inside of you.

Because, how on earth does he know those things? You’ve never told anyone that your ex-husband used to be a complete ape with his cock. Not on purpose, you hope, but Jesus Christ, you’d always have to limp your way to the bathroom afterwards.

Also, he’d always make you dry as hell.

And even though he wasn’t loving, nor a good lover, nor sensitive or caring, he had you in the palm of his hand. You can’t recall a more humiliating feeling than remembering you were in love with him.

The meeting goes, well, just as you expected – boring and way too long. Could’ve perfectly been just an email. But the team is happy to see your project go on, and you’re happy too. In fact, it’s done its job so well that you only remember about Jimin’s odd behaviour today the moment you step back into the house.

Jimin is sitting on the couch, right where you left him.

Looking cherubic and beautiful, you stare at his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his nose, and wonder where did your ex-husband get the inspiration to make him.

You lean in for a kiss on his inert lips as your thumb strokes the switch behind his ear. Naturally, his body doesn’t react in any way to your presence, and you let out a chuckle of frustration, finally turning him back on.

His eyes flutter a bit before he looks at you.

“Hi there, angel.”

Jimin smiles softly at you, nuzzling your hand in search of warmth. How sweet he is, he’s nothing like him. Not a bit.

He claims your cuddles with a gentle tug at your hand, and you sit next to him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You rake your nails through his hair as you stare into the nothingness, too engrossed in your thoughts.

However, you’re starting to feel weirded out about just how much Jimin knows about you; why would your ex ever tell him about your problems in bed, for example? Judging by his reaction to the call, did he also talk about that time when you flirted with Taehyung perhaps a bit too much, before you confessed you were married and became friends? You don’t think your husband knew about all those things, let alone told Jimin about them.

So, why does he know, then?

What else does he know that you can’t even fathom? Your chest tingles at the prospect of already being bare before him; there are so many things you still feel ashamed of, you don’t want him out of all people to… know.

Besides, you still have no idea why. Actually, you don’t know a thing about Jimin, about his origins, about how or why he was created like this. You had sworn and promised in the past that you had decided to keep him to find out about all of that, and really, you’ve just forgotten about it.

“I just remembered” – you suddenly get up from the couch, and Jimin pouts at the sudden lack of warmth – “I left some sketches in the office. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Will you be back for dinner?” he asks, nonetheless.

“Yes, of course.”

Then you get up to fetch your purse in silence. Once you have everything you need, you wave your hand in goodbye and head to the entrance hall under Jimin’s consuming stare; it’s not watchful, but it really is intense. You feel it burning on your nape.

“Master?” You turn around when he calls you again. “You’re not mad at me about earlier, are you? I don’t know what happened to me, I’m really sorry… I was made to make you happy.”

Made to make you happy, made for loving you. You, you, you. It’s always you with him, like you’re his world. It only makes you frown, but you help the urge and smile instead, wishing it will ease his worries.

“Don’t be, I understand—”

“I’m not like him,” he suddenly says, and you feel cold all over.

“What?” You try to put on a calm face, but what he just said really weirded you out. “W-what do you mean?”

Jimin gets up and walks up to you, gently tugging at your arms. “I’m not like him, I would never be. He was a despicable monster, a-and I know I’m not even human, but— I love you, Master, I love you better than he ever could.” Then he kisses you, and you can’t help kissing him back. “I’ll do better, I promise. I won’t cross you again.”

His words make your stomach churn, but you don’t say anything; you’ve got some heavy work ahead. So, you peck his lips one more time and say goodbye, leaving him standing in the entrance hall all on his own.

It’s luminous, with a sickly white light, just as you remember it. Sterile, made of steel, and eternally silent. Few places give you the creeps like your ex-husband’s lab.

Although the place is not huge, you’re so unfamiliar with it that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with. He surely must have kept a journal of his experiments, right? He was always so keen on writing on paper— but maybe they took it away already.

It’s so weird to think that he’s dead now, though – you always thought him so powerful, so eternal, that death was never in your mind. How could it be when he was the ruler and commander of your life? What would you be without him, you pitiful butterfly? Always his angel, his pretty little thing, his loving wife he was so in love with.

And now he’s dead. Like a pathetic, weak human, he’s dead.

Instead of feeling sad or uneasy about it, it makes you feel good. It feels so, so good to know that he’s rotting somewhere. You hope it hurt.

You move around the room, looking at your surroundings; plans and sketches scattered on tables that no one has bothered to clean, half-made robotic arms, and dozens of inventions displayed on shelves like they’re his prizes.

But contrary to what you expected – or not since you always knew he was a control freak – you find his journals piled up and sorted out by date on one of the shelves at the end. If you remember correctly, Mrs Im said he started working on Jimin five years ago. That is, three and a half years before your divorce, so you look for the notebooks with that year written on them.

“Aha! Gotcha.”

You start revising the first journal, turning the pages as your eyes fly over the letters. Finally, you find the first notes; he mentions a folder with the official project information, but you will look for it later. What you read is more or less what his lawyer told you, the research of android models for sale as sex products.

It feels a little strange to read it on paper, so cold, when Jimin’s presence is so warm.

However, something catches your attention out of a sudden. You read it again to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it, but it’s pretty hard to do it:

The experiments are running smoothly: thanks to my memories, Jimin reacts to basic stimulation, and his sensors work well. Today it hardened only by smelling one of Y/N’s pieces of underwear. It will be a success if I manage to set his arousal on with vaguer objects or smells.

You turn the pages, being met only with shallow comments on the experiment. But you want to see if he mentions you again. What did he mean, ‘his memories’? How could that be possible? And why would he use you out of all people to test Jimin’s… sensors, or whatever he’s talking about?

To check next day: refractory period. Just when I was about to see if Jimin recovers faster when the stimulation is linked to her, she came down to announce her mother had just arrived. I ought to continue the experiment from there.

I hate that old woman; I wish I could get rid of her forever. I know she talks shit about me to Y/N.

Your eyebrow immediately arches at the comment; for years he would cry about how your mother hated him, and it turns out the feeling was mutual. Honestly, at this point, you’re not even surprised.

For the time being, you want to focus on processing the fact that somehow your crazy ex-husband managed to turn his memories into chips, or whatever. You don’t have a clue about these things. To insert them into Jimin and, well, you guess, customise his sexual arousal? Does that even make sense?

Jimin seems to have taken on an odd behaviour lately. It follows Y/N around the house but is aware it must not be seen. It knows of conversations the two of us have had without being present, and even of things not even I knew about; today Y/N showed up with a new mug and thanked me for buying it, but it was not me.

I have also noticed a growing aggressiveness towards me. More verbal than physical, but I am studying the possibility of speeding up the selling.

Suddenly breathless, you limply put the notebook back on the table.

So, it wasn’t him. None of it was, probably. The mug, or the flowers, or those cute notes he’d leave on the fridge wishing you a good day – they had all been Jimin’s. And suddenly you feel so, so fucking relieved.

He had been the problem all along. Not even Jimin, who had his memories, had his wickedness. Jimin was sweet, so he could’ve been too; he just didn’t want to.

And that is all you needed to know.

Then you realise you’ve reached the end of the notebook. You grab the next one, which covers a year and a half and covers your divorce. This is probably the only chance you’ll ever get to know what he was really feeling back then. Or ever, for that matter.

It seems that my memories are a bigger influence on Jimin’s personality than I first thought. It has become obsessed with my wife as if it was in love with her.

I know it was the plan all along, but I cannot help wondering if I have taken it too far.

I have not been fighting to keep her with me so that thing will ruin my chances of staying with her.

You smile fondly as you read it. However, as your eyes reach the last paragraph, you frown with disgust at his words. How could he speak like that of his own creation? Oh, what a heartless man. You cannot help but pity him. A body filled with hatred and fear and pain, he was a good for nothing.

This week I will be conducting no experiments as I ought to see my lawyer.

You quickly turn the page again.

This time, you’re startled as you observe the handwriting; it’s messy, angry, written so strongly that the pen almost ripped the paper. The page underneath is marked, the letters never to be forgotten.

I hate him. I hate him, and I hate her. And I love her. Y/N is mine, Jimin is mine, they are both mine, yet I cannot make them do what I think it’s best.

She fucking left. I would make her such a masterful thing if she’d only let me.

But there’s always that beastly creature stopping me.

Stopping him, how? What did he mean by that?

The next notes don’t feel too interesting; he doesn’t even sound like he’s enjoying himself anymore. The comments are technical, and he noted down some of his thoughts about the companies that had offered to buy Jimin.

But then you realise something.

If he wanted to sell – and it sounded like he was pretty confident about his decision – why would he leave Jimin to you in his will? If he wanted you to stay as far from him as possible.

You’re done with the notebook, so you grab the next one. It seems to be the last one, too; there are no more journals in sight, and it looks like most of the pages of this one have never been touched before. The spine doesn’t look too used either. Maybe he finished the project quickly before he even had the chance to write much?

There’s no way out. Every time, it manages to catch up on me. Wherever I go, it knows. Whatever I do, it knows. It will be standing at the end of the corridor, looking at me, grinning like it knows my darkest secrets. I cannot get out of the house without it knowing, it knows everything. I’m sure it’ll kill me.

If I die, it killed me.

My love, if you ever read this, please know that he is worse than I will ever be. If you’re reading this and I’m gone, know that his hands are dripping with blood, not mine. I know I’m sick, but so are you. We were sick in love, were we not? Loving each other until our souls rotted.

He’s different. He has no soul, no sickness. He doesn’t understand your darkness the way I do.

It makes me full, like an endless cycle. There is no birth without blood, but for him, there was no blood, no guts. He’s as human as I will make him, ripped out from my ribs.

His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

“Master?”

For the first time in a while, you’re terrified to hear his voice.

Turning around, you see Jimin standing at the top of the stairs. You flinch when he takes a step down, so he stops altogether and waits for a reaction, a word, a sound – anything from you, something to let him know you don’t despise him.

“Did you follow me here?” you ask with a frown, too afraid not to be crossed.

“I was worried,” he murmurs. “You left so suddenly you forgot your phone at home… A-and I did think that perhaps you were lying and that you’d be coming here instead.”

And he was right, in a way. But that doesn’t give him the right to follow you. That’s practically stalker behaviour. You’re starting to get the creeps, so Jimin goes all the way down to you and gently takes your hands. You don’t know if you don’t move out of fear or because you’re too comfortable with his touch.

Your voice comes out weakly. “Did you really kill him?”

“Yes,” he says with a smile. “I— I did it for you, Master. He erased my memories, I had to do something. He wanted to take me away from you.”

“So, you killed him,” you repeat, rather to yourself. Nodding slowly, you pull your hands away from his and turn around, needing some air to sort out your thoughts. “Because— because you wanted to stay with me? Why?”

You already know the answer. You don’t believe it yet, you don’t think it possible – but you know what words you’ll hear.

“Because I love you.”

Jimin seems ashamed of it, as he avoids your eyes and decides to stare at the floor instead. Like a boyish love confession on a sunny school day, your delusional body warms up the idea, but he can’t, can he? He can’t love you.

“Jimin,” you call softly, and finally, he looks up from the floor, “when you look at me, do you see me? Me, as a human, as a woman, as a creature? Do you even understand all of that?”

And then he smiles, and your chest blooms. “Yes – and you’re fascinating.”

All those years watching you, sneaking glances of you walking around the house, so close but still so far away. He’d dream of you, dream of you in his arms, him in yours, sharing kisses, pleasuring you the way his Master could not. He’d be careful, he’d be loving, he’d listen to each of your words.

“He gave me this body and all the cables and everything that keeps me moving, but you, Y/N— you gave me a conscience! You made everything make sense! You made me human,” Jimin claims in a whisper.

You can’t help but frown. “But he deleted them. How can you still remember me?”

You’re getting an answer for each of your questions, but somehow, they all seem only to leave you even more confused.

“He didn’t,” Jimin rushes to say, and then he goes on to explain further, seeing your puzzled face, “Not all of them, at least. I didn’t let him. I wanted to be with you, I didn’t want to… forget you.”

“Why?”

“Because after I got to know you through his memories I realised that, if there’s any person on this world that could accept me despite what I am, that was you. I thought you could love me.”

Letting out a sigh – of desperation, tiredness, love, you have no idea – you cup his cheeks and purse your lips. Do you love him? You’re not sure. Your stomach churns and turns at the mere idea of losing him, but can you really love him?

His words echo in your head like poison. His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

But is it, really? Jimin’s love feels soft. It doesn’t feel smothering or drowning. He loves you just the way you want to be loved. You don’t feel owned by him, on the contrary. Actually, you think Jimin loves you despite his husband’s sickness. That must be why he apologised when it took over him this evening at Taehyung’s call.

The sickness shrieked, the love apologised and learned.

“I know they aren’t mine,” he continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I know it wasn’t me you fell in love with, whom you slept with, the person you decided to spend the rest of your life with. I know it was him all along, but I—” Jimin nuzzles your neck in a desperate search for your warmth. “I can’t help it! I was made for loving you!”

But instead of answering, you tilt his chin up and kiss him.

“Living— living with the memories,” he continues as you leave pecks on the corner of his lips, “of your touch, of your warmth, your love.” Jimin’s arms tangle around your waist. “Loving you but forced to stay away – it was torture, Master.”

His breath feels warm against you, his hands feel hungry around you. His red LED-lit eyes stare into yours, searching for a sign, any indication of love.

You brush your lips together, softly at first, until his whimper makes you grin and run your tongue over his lip, asking for entrance. You suck his bottom lip into his mouth until he does, tongues rolling over each other in a heated kiss. With your skin burning up, you run your hands through his hair, and Jimin cautiously squeezes your butt when you push him against the counter.

Suddenly, you sink to your knees and begin to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

“So, you have sensors, right?” He nods weakly. “Everywhere.”

“Y-yes, ma’am—”

“And is there any way to alter them? Is it possible to make you last longer, or even make you not last at all?” you ask, still kneeling before him. Again, Jimin nods and closes his eyes. “Then, I want you as sensitive as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

He must have a limit, and you want to find it. Either he runs out of cum, or his sensors give up, or he just fucking short-circuits.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to get hard between your fingers, smooth rolls of your wrist as you pump him with an affectionate but hungry pace. Letting out a gasp, Jimin grips the edge of the counter for balance; he’s indeed too sensitive not to react to the touch he’s been craving his whole existence.

“So hard,” you purr, “I can’t wait to taste you, Jimin…”

“M-master, please, Master! Oh fuck, oh—” Jimin whimpers in response, gritting his teeth.

His body is shaking when you part your lips and engulf his cock, eyes glued to his pretty face. His knees buckle, and he squeaks in pleasure, you hollow your cheeks to swallow more of him. Meanwhile, your other hand gently plays with his balls.

“That— that f-feels so good, Master,” he rasps. In appreciation, you suck further down onto his cock until there’s a trickle of saliva rolling down your chin. “Shit! God, thank you!”

You somehow manage to grin with his cock between your parted lips. Jimin seems too aroused to process any robotic thought properly, so you move your hands to his ass and knead the flesh, pushing your lips into your mouth. He yelps instantly and follows it with his hips, and then you dip your tongue into his slit; it makes him let out a sob and almost fall to his knees, warning you of his climax, or rather begging you to slow down.

Your darkened lips, wet with saliva, suck again while your tongue presses on his tip. His cock throbs, a salty flavour you think it’s fake precum lingering on it. His hardened length slides in and out of your mouth with sloppy movements.

Jimin lets out a choked sob. “Master!” Filled with guilt, as gently as his trembling body will let him, he puts his hands on your hair. “L-let me cum, I need to— I-I need to come, please—”

Finally, you raise your head to let his length slide out of your mouth, and you catch back your precious breath.

“Sensitive, are we?” you mock him.

There’s time for him only to roll his eyes, out of annoyance or pleasure, before his hips buckle into your mouth one more time. The coiling tension in his sensors pools in the centre of his body, Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, and soon his cock twitches again, heavy on your tongue, warning you of his high.

“Master,” he whimpers. “T-thank you, Master, fuck— shit!”

And Jimin spills himself inside of your mouth, his release salty and more similar to actual cum than you expected. After swallowing, you help him ride out his orgasm using both hands and lips.

He’s still holding his weight on the counter when you speak, “Get on the table and lie down.”

He was probably expecting to eat you out since you pull down your pants once you straddle him, so it does take Jimin by surprise when you align your entrance with his half-hard cock. You hear him mumble something as your hand grips his cum-covered length, fingers playing with his release and making him let out a gasp.

“Are you still sensitive?” Barely able to keep eye contact, Jimin nods weakly. “Good.”

You quickly get rid of both your and his shirt. Once you’re naked against each other, you bend down to finally touch, knead, nib, and kiss wherever you feel like; you’ve had enough of leisurely letting him pleasure you without taking your part.

Your warm lips leave a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. “I’ll ride you again and again… until you either run out of cum or short-circuit.”

“M-mast—!”

Jimin lets out a choked sob when you sink down on his cock, immediately rolling down your hips. A hint of pain takes over you as your walls grip him, stretching around his length, and you moan. It’s been a while since you last had such a nice cock work you open— but then Jimin’s hands grab your waist, and his blissed face takes you completely off guard.

“Fuck, so good, Master, I love— I love you,” he whines.

His eyes move down to his cock disappearing into your body; you feel so warm, so wet, the pressure around him letting him know that you’re stuffed with him too.

You breathe out and thrust down onto him again, setting a desperate, frenetic tempo. “You feel good too, angel, shit—” The sounds of smacking flesh echo across the room, pushing you to ride him faster. “Gonna fuck you until I go mad—”

With your hands splayed across his chest, you use him for leverage to slam your hips together.

“Please, don’t stop!” Jimin begs you then, eyes rolling back. “Oh, coming, M-Master! I’m— I’m close, p-please—!”

You bend down again and nuzzle his neck only to gently bite on his earlobe, making him purr. “So, you want to come inside of me, Jimin? Want to fill your Master up with your cum? Is that—” A groan drowns down your throat when his cock finally finds and pumps into the right spot. “I-is that what you want?”

The heated kiss the two of you share is enough of an answer. You tilt your hips so that your clit rubs against his pubic bone, pushing you closer to your climax.

Body arching against you, Jimin pushes back up against your thrusts erratically. His thighs move up and down to help, the seeming muscles bulging and flexing, and all his system starts to burn, aching to burst. His cock slides into your dripping cunt in a desperate tempo.

Jimin sucks on the skin of your neck before whispering, breathless, “I’m—”

And then you feel it – a tremble, a soft pant, and one last powerful thrust up into you before you groan at the warm feeling of his cum flooding you. Jimin reaches out for your body as he convulses, hugging you tightly before you give in and kiss him. Your hips don’t stop after even helping him ride out his climax, and he looks at you with his brows knitted in confusion. But you smirk, his creamy release leaking from your entrance and leaking down his cock.

“Ugh— hurts, Master,” he whines then. His fingers dig into your waist.

“Told you,” you whisper; “I’ll ride you until I come, no matter how many times I have to make you come.”

Like a man who has accepted his doom, Jimin lets you kiss him again, this time hungrily sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. A groan vibrates in your throat, you can tell you’re close, judging by the way your body is burning up, your swollen clit rubbing against the base of his cock.

It softens partially inside of you, but not for long; maybe it’s because of his sensors – since they’re set to the highest level of sensitivity – that Jimin sucks in a sharp breath when you clench around him.

“I’m close, angel,” you say, almost grunting.

You’re close, can feel your climax teasing you. Heat spreads under your skin, and you have to fight not to crumble on top of him, thighs burning. He stares at your sweat, covering your body, sliding down the valley of your breasts, tapping against the metal surface. You enjoy how Jimin responds to your touch when you stroke down his chest and realise he’s close too.

Slowly, you raise your hips and snap them onto his cock again, eyes never leaving his beautiful red LED-lit irises.

“Cum with me, will you?”

You’re so full of his cum already, you’re sure it’ll leak out for hours. But your lips find each other in the sickly whitish light blinking over you, and it’s so comforting that you can’t help the tension snapping in the pit of your stomach with a deep moan muffled against his lips.

“Shit, shit, baby—! Oh, fuck, so good, so good,” you chant, now rutting your hips faster.

You dissolve into pleasure with his arms around you, grounding you to him. Walls fluttering around his cock, the shockwaves grip your body like a fit of hysterical lust, pushing you to fuck him faster, harder, balls swinging against your cheeks until Jimin lets out a trembling sob; then he empties himself inside of your tight walls, and you relentlessly fuck him through his orgasm, slower by the minute.

Jimin watches your breasts as they heave up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. Meanwhile, his system slows down, now trying to run smoothly.

You smile when his thumbs stroke your waist in circles. “What?”

“I still…” His smile falters, now totally back on earth. “I still don’t know if you want to keep me, Master.”

“You’ll have to stop calling me ‘Master’ eventually, you know,” you say and ignore his pleading question. Caressing his cheeks feel way more interesting right now.

“Why?”

“Well” – you sit up on his lap, making some of his release leak out and drip down your inner thighs – “I’m sure people will start making questions, don’t you think? I believe you should stick to it only at home, when we’re alone— or even better, only in the bedroom.”

It takes him a second to realise you’re taking him. With this, you’re claiming him, you didn’t even doubt it for a second.

Jimin is yours, forever, however long that lasts.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

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lux-astrorum · 1 year

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Outcast walked so Goncharov could run

#does anyone else remember Outcast from twitter like 5 years ago????????#to the best of my memory it was this elaborate BTS scifi thriller AU that was told entirely through screenshots of text messages #but there was also a choose your own adventure aspect to it where the author would post polls for followers to decide what happened next #it was WILD

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candlelightandmoonshine · 22 days

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#namkook #vmin #scifi #60k #spaceship #reincarnated bts #fluff #angst #au

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singlesonlyroleplay · 10 months

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Enter a world of unending possibilities. Stop Time - At the facility, a hotel & lounge for our members Endless Creations - Want to couple up? We have a solution. Mewe // 19+ // Boys Only // Semi AU // Sci-fi Twist Choose your own adventure at Singles Only Roleplay Tumblr Navigation // Asianfanfics // Character List

#krpnet #bts roleplay #txt roleplay #nct dream rp #nct rp #nct 127 rp #wayv rp #krp ad #krp #kpop roleplay #literate roleplay #scifi krp #semi au rp

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btscarnivalnet · 2 years

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Headliner Of The Month

Hello, Carnival Goers and Performers alike, please give a round of applause for our Headliner of the Month:

Our Wonderful Performer: Sunny @sunshinerainbowsbts

You are our Headliner of the Month!

During this month, we want to showcase your incredible talent and skill and share it with the Carnival! For this month, we want you to pick three fics of yours that you’d like us to showcase, and we also wanted to ask you some questions so we can understand how you write, why and what you want to get across with your fics.

Questions For You:

Three Fics:

Paradise

Covert Affairs

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

When did you start writing fics, and why?

I started writing years ago, when I joined a server dedicated to a wild scifi show called Lexx. Prior to joining, I’d never even heard of fanfiction, but there was a group of authors there posting the most incredible stories, and soon I was hooked. Eventually I reached a point where I wanted to see my favorite characters in specific scenarios that those stories weren’t covering, and it dawned on me that if I wanted to see them, then I needed to write them.

That server is long gone now, and I did not have the foresight to save any of my fics, so they’re all digital dust now. Let that be a lesson to everyone - always backup your stories!

I fell away from writing fanfic for a while, but I kept reading for various fandoms like Harry Potter and the MCU. After a while, I started writing for the MCU when I felt the need to see my own ideas come to life. Then 2020 came and I found BTS and the amazing fanfic community on tumblr. And it happened once again - it wasn’t enough to read the fantastic worlds that Army authors were creating. I had to build my own.

What was your first fic?

Baby

What is your latest fic?

The Hook Up

Why did you choose to write about the fics you have chosen?

Paradise

Paradise is the first series I created. The idea sprang from watching Jungkook’s iconic “My Time” performance and thinking about his duality and wondering - what if your shy neighbor was a sexy stripper by night? It's a very simple idea, for sure, but one that has resulted in about 86,000 words written over eleven chapters published so far! Originally, I thought it would be a short five-part series, but I just fell in love with the characters and decided to slow things down and take my time telling their story. I chose this one because it’s my favorite story to write. Yes, it’s a very self-indulgent story, but isn’t that the whole point of fanfiction in the first place?

I remember being so incredibly nervous to post the teaser. It got some attention, but ironically that just made me even more anxious when the first chapter went up! You never know what kind of response you’re going to get with your stories. I have been so, so lucky that this fic has resonated with a group of readers who keep coming back chapter after chapter. We all know what it’s like to write something we love and feel heartbroken when it doesn’t find its audience.

The story feels like it’s starting to wind down now. I don’t want to stop writing it but I also don’t want to drag it out or have it overstay its welcome. But no matter how long it goes on, I’ll never stop being thankful for every single interaction it’s brought me.

Covert Affairs

This Jungkook Spy!AU was written for a request. It’s an example of when you get the perfect prompt and the words just start flowing - I wrote the whole thing very quickly. I tend to write very visually - I see the action in my head and do my best to transcribe onto the page. That worked really well for this story, which unfolded just like a movie in my imagination.

The reason I picked this story is because of its ending. My blog is kind of unofficially a “happy endings only” blog - the vast majority of my stories are meant to leave the reader in high spirits. The ending of Covert Affairs is very different from my other fics. I reached out to a few writer moots before I posted it, because I was afraid to use the final scene I’d written. But they told me to trust my instincts, and I’m so glad that I did, because I can’t imagine it ending any other way. And it has led me to question what a “happy ending” is, anyway. Does it always mean the hero wins, or that the reader gets the guy? Does it have to be “happily ever after” or can it just be finding peace in the moment?

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

This was one of the first fics I wrote working from a prompt as opposed to coming up with my own idea wholesale. As soon as I read the words “It’s hand-holding season,” I knew two things. One, it had to be a Yoongi fic, and two, it had to be soft. Super soft. Like, curling up on a bed made of marshmallows soft.

I’m largely a smut writer. I like smut. I enjoy reading it and I absolutely love writing it. But not every story necessarily needs a sex scene. I chose this story because I felt like it’s a good example of the type of fluff I like to write. Just a series of quiet moments of two idiots falling in love. I live for those moments. Also, I love how silly it is. I try to imbue a lot of humor into my writing.

What was the most memorable line for you in each of the fics?

Paradise

From chapter one, when reader sees Jungkook on stage for the first time:

Like the statue of a god come to life, marble made flesh and blood, Jeon Jungkook danced before you, more beautiful than any man you’d ever seen.

From chapter six, some banter between Jin and reader. I fucking love writing banter:

“What did I say about being patient?” he inquires, cocking an eyebrow.

“Patience is a virtue,” you remark.

“Yes, it is.” He rubs his thumbs over your wrists and the sensation sends a bolt of electricity to your core.

“I never claimed to be virtuous.”

From chapter nine, an example of me just cracking myself up. Happens frequently in my writing:

Besides, he’s so pretty, lost in his dreams next to you. Why not just lie here and gaze upon his beauty a little longer?

Gaze upon his beauty? Okay, Lord Byron, let’s dial it back a little. And maybe stop staring at him like a creeper.

Covert Affairs

This is one of the first lines I wrote when I saw the prompt and began picturing the little cat-and-mouse game between Spy!Reader and Spy!Jungkook:

His smile is all you can see as he disappears into the shadows, pulling you in. “Why would I let someone else have the pleasure of catching you?”

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I cheated and chose a paragraph, because it’s hard for me to pick just one of these lines without the context of the others, and I think it shows the way the hand-holding between Yoongi and reader has come to mean so much more:

Snowflakes swirl around you on the trek home, but the air feels heavy with something else. Something unspoken. Everything around you is covered in a fluffy white blanket that shimmers slightly under the streetlights, and you could easily get lost on these streets just as easily as you get lost in your thoughts. But that familiar sensation at your side, Yoongi’s fingers clutching yours, reassures you. It’s a comforting weight, anchoring you in the moment.

What was your writing process like for each fic?

Chaotic as usual. I don’t typically outline my stories - the rare exceptions are my current series Paradise and Versus. For everything else, I normally just have a basic idea - what kicks the story off and how it will be resolved, and then the rest comes as I write it. My ideas come from everywhere - a line of dialogue or a lyric, a conversation with a friend, dreams I’ve had. Occasionally, if an idea seems like it’s going to be more than a quick one-shot, I will do a stream-of-consciousness type of outlining - basically I write a paragraph or two detailing what plot points the story will include.

Also, I have to have noise when I write, either listening to music or just having the tv on in the background. I can’t work in silence. Like I said, chaotic.

I didn’t start outlining Paradise until I was five chapters in. The story kept expanding, so I needed to corral all my thoughts and figure out the timing of the various events. And I write it one chapter at a time. I truly, truly envy authors who have the patience to write multiple chapters or a whole fic before they start posting! I have zero chill when it comes to posting. I want to write and get it out there immediately.

Covert Affairs and I Wanna Hold Your Hand were both written without an outline, over a series of sprints. I’m a big fan of sprinting - it’s helpful to turn off the critical/editing portions of your brain and just let the words roll off your fingertips. Sometimes I end up with a fairly useless mess, but more often than not, I’ll find the crux of a story that way. A lot of times my characters will surprise me with their antics during a sprint.

What do you hope readers will take away from the fics?

I hope they find whatever they are looking for in my stories. Whether it be something they want, like a spicy smut scene, or something they need, like a good laugh. Fanfiction has by and large been a source of comfort for me. It’s often a place I turn to when I need to escape from all the stress in my life. I’d love for my stories to do the same for others. I hope to write fics that will reverberate with people for a long time after reading. Nothing would make me happier than that.

Why do you keep writing? What drives you?

I keep writing because I love it. I have so many worlds within me, all clamoring to be born. What drives me is the desire to share those ideas with others. To say here, I made this for you. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading.

Any writing goals you’ve recently hit? Any goals that you are planning to hit?

I haven’t really had many goals in the past but I’ve had some milestones that I’ve celebrated. I’ve been writing for BTS for over a year now - that was a great marker to hit. My current goal is to wrap up my three series - the two I mentioned above and my Bad Cop!Yoongi series - in a (hopefully) satisfactory manner before I attempt any other series. Future goals include exploring new genres/tropes/kinks in my writing, and then possibly branching out into Stray Kids fanfic - but that’s a ways down the line yet, since I still have so many BTS WIPs in the works!

#bcn: headliner of the month #performer: sunshinerainbowbts

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worldwidebt7 · 4 years

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Hell[L]ing || 04

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,416 § — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Kookie being the sweet helpful bun that he is.

§ — A/N: So, banged this entire chapter out in a day and a half because, well, QUARANTINE. I should have been working on my commissions or my Webtoon contest entry, but I had an itch to get the next chapter of this out because it’s about to get GOOD. Oh, and there’s a decent amount of Jungkookie in this chapter~ Enjoy!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Today, it was raining. If you had the ability to have the sky open up and rain on you every day, you would do it in a heartbeat— you loved the rain. It was the only time where you felt fractionally normal around other people. The constant interference of energy caused by rainfall created something like a static that made it easier to drown out invasive outside emotions. You could have a conversation with someone and not get barreled over by wave after wave of their feelings. Plus, you couldn’t resist opening the windows of your home to let the sweet, clean air left behind a recent rain shower wash away any stagnant atmosphere that may have accumulated within its walls.

Beyond that it was raining, it was also, suddenly, surprisingly, pleasantly, Friday. After the short, but no less exhausting, encounter with your neighbor, Seokjin, and his sickly roommate, Taehyung, the rest of the week passed by with little excitement. Namjoon had given you the look—one you were expecting to get, but nerve-wracking nonetheless— once he found out that you had yet to write basically the first 75 pages of your novel, though at this point he was not surprised if the lack of spike in his aura suggested anything. He had given you until Thursday to write at least an outline of events so he could have a better understanding of how the heroine falls into the unfortunate situation she finds herself in. Thankfully, you had been able to accomplish this task, and was even able to send in dialog samples. Namjoon, for now, had been placated.

The other thing about Friday, or this Friday in particular, was that it was the third Friday of the month signaling your bi-weekly visit from your favorite grocery delivery boy, Jungkook. He would be arriving a little after 4pm, as he kept your delivery to the end of his route. Good thing too; the two of you have recently gotten close and your chattering would often cause tardiness to Jungkook’s other appointments. Not to mention you lived fairly far out of the way for your delivery boy who drove nearly 45 minutes just to drop off six measly bags of filled with the food items you had texted him the previous day.

Honestly the boy was too helpful for his own good. There was one Friday where he had popped by with your things when you off-handedly mentioned how the ice-maker in your freezer wasn’t working properly and making too much ice. The angel that is your delivery boy spent the next 20 minutes with your irritating ice-maker, chipping away at the ice that had frozen over the rotator and fixing the setting all so you wouldn’t have to go with your original plan which involved defrosting your freezer, losing your frozen goods, and cleaning up a cold, wet mess afterwards. He had not complained once. Not about the ice, not about having to use a screwdriver as a pick, not even when his fingers had become so cold that you could feel the pain— literally.

This was one of many examples of his unbridled kindness, and one of the many reasons you were always excited to see the boy. As you straightened your house and rearranged your pantry to fit the incoming foodstuff, the rain continued to strike the outside of your house, mixing in well with the low-fi hip-hop you had playing in the background on your stereo system. It almost made you sleepy, but your relaxed state wasn’t enough to deter the building anticipation towards your future visitor.

When you were pleased with your pantry, you backed away and closed the door, just in time it seemed, as there was a quiet knock at your door. You sighed happily— you hadn’t felt the boy coming at all, bless the rain and its emotion-jamming effects. Ah, wait, the rain…

You zipped over to the door, realizing a bit sluggishly that Jungkook would be standing outside in the rain with all of your groceries until you opened it for him, as he was always the model citizen and wouldn’t enter without your knowledge. Clad in only socks, you slide across the hardwood flooring and straight into the door, hitting it against your shoulder with a slight ‘thud’, before regaining your footing and flinging open the front door. On the other side was a wet, mop-headed delivery boy, looking rather shocked at the speed in which you had approached the door and more than likely hearing the impact your body made with it.

“Sorry, sorry!” You said, picking up the reusable bags that he had lugged from his car and sat on your front step. Before you could grab a third bag, his hands shot out to stop you, fingers grazing your arm and allowing you to finally get a clear read on his emotions— he was like the air after the rain: sweet, clean, and refreshing.

“Noona, you don’t have to do that, I got those.” He said, picking up the other four bags, two in each hand, before following you into the house and, albeit with some trouble, kicked off his boots. Jungkook really had no wicked bone in his body, not one. He never had a second agenda, never said something he didn’t mean, never held a grudge; and his emotions reinforced all of these facts regularly. It was no wonder you liked being around him— you never needed your abilities to tell you what he was really feeling or thinking. He was an open book for you, and he did so with the knowledge of what you were capable of.

“Thanks for coming all the way out here for me, I really appreciate it.” You chimed, setting the bags down on the counter, Jungkook following suit. He gave a light-hearted shrug before ruffling some of the water out of his own hair.

“It’s okay, you are paying me after all,” A small huff escaped your lips at his comment as you placed your new gallon of milk into the refrigerator. Humor spilled into the air as you became accustomed to his energy despite the rain and he stifled a laugh at your reaction. “I’m only joking— well, no, you are paying me— you know I like hanging out with you!” You cracked a smile, not even able to continue to pretend to be mad at him.

“Yeah, yeah… took you long enough to talk to me though!” Teasing him had quickly become one of your favorite past-times. He was so easily embarrassed, and the way he always touched his ears when he was especially bashful entered dangerous territories for your heart. Precious boy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not, I didn’t, UGH. You know what I’m trying to say!” You sputtered out a laugh, not even the least surprised that you did, in fact, know what he was trying to say. He had confided in you shortly after communication had been established that he got nervous around new people, most specifically women. You weren’t sure why, he was a kind, bright, good-looking young man, and he had never produced much of a reason for it either. That’s just how he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to overstep any barriers and make people uncomfortable? Though now that you knew him, being uncomfortable with Jungkook was entirely impossible. And at his pink cheeks and pout, you caved, throwing a grape at him just to make him flinch.

“Alright punk, I forgive you.” You said before popping a different grape into your mouth. The dark-locked boy rubbed his chest where the grape had bounced off, feigning offence, the continuous stream of humor flowing off of him enough for you to know that he was enjoying your banter.

“Thanks, noona, really appreciate it, almost a year later!” He crinkled his nose at you as if he were irritated before tumbling into a fit of laughter, where you joined him merrily. Precious boy.

“So, what have you been up to? How’s school?” Routine questions, but you honestly wanted to know. He looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly trying to think of any recent changes in his life. You raised an eyebrow as you closed the door to your fridge once you finished putting away the chilled goods. As expected, he shrugged.

“The usual.” He began helping you by unloading the canned goods onto the counter top. “My film class is getting pretty interesting though.” Folding the tote bag the groceries were in, he placed it on one of your bar stools and then looked at you. “What about you? Anything interesting happen lately? Any more birds fly into your window?” You rolled your eyes at his teasing— living out here by yourself, you rarely had anything substantial to share with your friend. This time, however…

“Well, I’ve got new neighbors…” You revealed, picking up a few of the canned goods. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, following your lead and collecting a couple of cans to help you on your way to the pantry.

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, nodding your head as you placed your cans on the shelf.

“Mmhm. A tall guy with purple hair and his roommate that’s apparently always sick.” You elaborated, not mentioning names for now. “They’re… nice.” At your hesitation, you felt a slight buzz of uneasiness from the man beside you. You looked at him, knowing he was aware that you felt his change. “What?”

“Just nice?” His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at you like he was trying to read your energy, which you believed with little doubt he could. You spent too much time by yourself anymore and you long had forgotten how to properly dress your expressions for social interactions. You let out a breathy chuckle at his concern.

“Yes, nice.” You reiterated, plucking the cans from his arms. He gave you an unimpressed look that was garnished with a pout. With a sigh, you indulged him. “I can’t get a good read on either of them…” Your confession only left him more confused.

“You mean your empath stuff, right?” A nod of affirmation. “Why can’t you read them? I thought you didn’t know how to turn it off?” You hummed thoughtfully, taking the last can from him.

“It’s not that I can’t read them, it’s just that…” You turned from the pantry after placing the last can on the shelf and ran a hand through your hair. “The one dude is always freaking out— panic, panic, panic— all the time! I’m afraid that he’s going to give himself a heart attack! But beyond that, I have a gut feeling telling me that he’s a good person, even when he deliberately lies to me.” Arms crossed, Jungkook looked at you pointedly.

“So… a good liar?” He asked, trying to understand your instincts. You shrugged with a groan.

“Maybe? I don’t know, I really do think he’s… good.” You stepped back over to the counter to grab your new paper towel rolls and plastic wrap to be set in their proper locations. Jungkook slid onto a bar stool and leaned against the counter.

“Okay, not really sure what that means, but…” You glared at him, and he grinned at you, obviously trying to hold back laughter. “What about the other one?” At that, you paused. How were you supposed to explain ‘the other one’? Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t bother putting way the items in your hand, rather opting to just set them on the counter again.

“Well, uh…” You trailed off, not entirely sure if he would believe you seeing as the last time you tried to explain something improbable with Yoongi didn’t go as you had hoped. However, looking at the wide-eyed boy in front of you, everything about his aura was open and trusting and you knew that if you told him, he would believe you. “His emotions come in ‘blips’.”

“’Blips’?” He repeated— not in a condescending way, but rather as if he were trying to place the definition of the word. You nodded, less than prepared to explain yourself.”

“Yeah, I can’t feel his emotions all the time, they go away and reappear like radar blips. But they’re always super intense.” Resting your forearms on the counter, you let the edge press into your ribs a bit as you leaned forward. Even without your abilities, you could tell that Jungkook was trying to think of an answer, anything that could be the cause. You almost smiled at his thoughtfulness— there was nothing to suggest he didn’t believe you.

“Well,” he started, breaking you out of your trance. “You said he was sick all the time, right? Maybe that could affect your readings?” You had thought about that possibility as well— you had never been knowingly near a significantly ill person, so you couldn’t say that it wasn’t conceivable; though saying that was the only issue would be erroneous. Still, seeing as this was the only reasonable explanation you had come up with, you chose to put your faith in it.

“Maybe,” You agreed, nodding. You didn’t bring up the midnight visitor or the crawly feeling of being watched the last week or so, knowing the kind boy in your kitchen would likely throw a fit trying to figure out a way to help you. To be honest, you kind of wish he would, though that was only in your own selfish interests. Since you hadn’t had any real incidents besides that one, you decided not to worry the boy.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s visit this time around had to be cut short, as he had other responsibilities to attend to in the evening. You gave him sass of course, stating that you couldn’t believe that he had something more important to do than keeping you company. He laughed and apologized, though a small twinge of guilt in the air made you realize that he knew the hidden meaning in your friendly repartee.

You were lonely.

You were also aware that he knew you’d be able to feel the minute change in his emotional state even with the rain, but neither of you commented on it before you ushered him out the door so he could drive home while it was still light out. He bid farewell before sprinting to his car to avoid getting completely drenched and you waved from inside the doorway, flinching when he peels out of your driveway like he was Brian O'Conner from the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.

Sighing, you stood in your doorway for a bit longer, listening to the rain and watching the reflections in the puddles dance. This was the part you hated most— the emptiness that follows the end of social interaction. You were used to being alone, and the longer you were alone the more used to it you became. However, the small instances when you were able to talk to another person, be near them, smile and laugh with them… they reminded you that humans were codependent on each other. You needed other people. As much as you were physically pained to be near them, you needed them. As you spent more time in isolation from the world, the more you yearned to be normal.

The sound of a blunt object hitting the glass of your window wall had you spinning on you heel out of reflex. As Jungkook had teased you earlier, it was common for birds to fly into the large window panes. More often than not, they were fine and they flew off. But every once in a while, they injured themselves, and you took it upon yourself to assess their injuries and making them comfortable if need be.

So, imagine your surprise when there wasn’t a small, winged creature on your back patio, but rather a tall, soaked, handsome boy with his palm pressed against your French doors. You blinked a few times for good measure, hoping this was just an illusion and that you weren’t currently looking at your sickly neighbor with the weird readings standing in the rain outside your house. When you realized he was just going to continue to stand there looking into your house until you greeted him, you quickly shut your front door and hastily made your way over to let him in.

As you got close, you realized there was a buzzing in the air, like it was vibrating, again in blips like radar. You recognized this as anxiety or nervousness and quickly deduced that it was coming from your neighbor. You paused before opening the door— you didn’t know this man; you’d barely met him more than once and only heard him speak a single time, and it wasn’t even to you. Plus, you still couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling you got whenever he was within your range; there was too much similar between how you felt about the boy in front of you and the thing you saw that night. Were you really about to let him into your house?

Almost like he could feel your hesitation, his hand slipped from the door and he looked at the ground dejectedly. A hole appeared in you doubt at this innocent act, and a quick, shooting pain pierced your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was your own guilt setting in or his emotions afflicting you, but you opened the door without another lingering moment to think about how bad of an idea this was.

‘He’s sick and shouldn’t be in the rain,’ You told yourself as you now stood in front of this near-stranger without the protective barrier of your glass door. You swallowed, your own nerves now wreaking havoc on your body, though the dark-haired boy in front of you look more shocked and more nervous than you did. In fact, if you didn’t get him to calm down soon, his nerves would probably cause you to throw up. And the fact that his emotions only appeared like explosions in the atmosphere around you wasn’t helping. Still, the way he looked down at his feet rather than at you, just…

“H-hello…?” You greeted; your uncertainty evident in your shaken speech. He made the smallest movement, like he was flinching at the sound of your voice and you almost wanted to backtrack. Good lord he was skittish. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I-I mean, can I help you?” Fumbling over your words wasn’t new for you, but for some reason you were especially aware of your tongue’s missteps at the moment.

He stood there for a moment, contemplating you surmised, before peeking up at you through his wet bangs. You made eye contact and— sweet heavens— you forgot about the alluring abyss that was his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he looked at his feet again, which, you finally noticed, were completely bare.

“You said…” Now it was your turn to be startled; only now remembering how deep and velvet-like his voice was, even with how soft-spoken he currently was. “…that I could come….” He shifted, his nervousness beating around you like drums as you let his words sink in. You said he could come… you said he could come? When did you—

“Oh, um, well my house isn’t too far from yours…He’s welcome to stop by from time-to-time if he’s able… It’d be no problem… It’d be nice to have company every once-in-a-while.”

You suddenly remembered that, yes, you had invited him to visit you during your interaction Monday afternoon. At the time, you had your reasons, reasons that you couldn’t remember for the life of you at the moment. What on earth possessed you to tell a stranger it was fine to wander over to your house just because you were neighbors?!

And yet, the way his large body looked so small in front of you, like he was pleading with you to let him in…

“I-I did…” You relaxed your face enough to smile at him, your nerves still eating at you and a headache starting to set in from the intensity of his. You stepped aside to let him in, to which his head shot up and his eyes widened— you suppose he didn’t think you would actually let him in, but the sudden, yet agreeable change in his emotional blips was enough to tell you that he was relieved, pleased even, as he stepped in from the rain. “I should probably get you a towel, huh?”

Tags:

@sana-b @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @babbitybabo @softmxchi @halijahfan @chimchimsauce @coolavidreader @beesthoughtsblog @breadcaaat @lucian-kinnder @wolfgirl-m @sogrossstuff @kpop-nolife @unoriginal-username15432 @cvbachacbitch @rhayad @lladyow @jiminot7 @parkminhee @ditttiii @sathom013 @megazdl @sugabased

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist.

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful.

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks.

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty.

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed.

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it.

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?”

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind.

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?”

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges.

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin drabble #bts drabble #bts scifi au #jimin scifi au

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years

Text

Vessel Euphoria Chapter 8

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel “Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

Previous Masterlist Next

Years of training. Months of preparation.

Months of flying through the endless void of space in a tin can, towards people you revered as idols. Hoping to help them. All for nothing. All wasted.

You’re sitting on the floor, staring at the panels on the far side, watching your thoughts swim desperate circles around your own head, trying to pull back into your body, but everything is static, disconnected, you can’t move so much as the tips of your fingers. Dimly, you’re aware that your breath is short, harsh.

It’s all over now.

At least two of them are dead. Dead? Tears bubble in your eyes, memories of the men on the tapes. Smiling, excited Taehyung. Confident, methodical Seokjin. Gone. Why? How?

And what about Namjoon?

“You have to take me back.” Jungkook’s voice comes through the intercom, crackled and static, and it brings with it a wash of anger in you.

You don’t answer, jerking suddenly to the side, blinking at the water in your vision that blurs the world, cascades down your cheeks, forces you to sniffle like a child. Your fingers fumble for the button on the quarantine room, scrabbling at it. Why won’t it go down?? This is the last thing you need. You don’t need this. Your world is teetering on the edge of breaking and he’s only going to complicate things if you keep listening to his madness.

“There isn’t time,” he insists, frustrated, choked.

“I have to shut you up,” you snap. “And then we’re going to wait for Hoseok.”

“We can’t wait. We can’t. Fever. You said fever.”

“Shut up.” Your fingers slip, scraping fruitlessly against the button, and a growl looses itself from your lips that sounds almost feral. “Just shut up, Jungkook!”

“You. Jimin. Hoseok. Teams of four. The fourth has a fever.” He’s chattering, breathless. “The fever. The flowers. We can’t wait. It isn’t safe.”

No matter how you pick at it, coax it, the button won’t yield, stuck down permanently. Logically, you know that’s not entirely unexpected. The Epiphany is an older model of space-faring vessel, frankensteined with scraps of decommissioned tech. Sometimes she develops quirks. But illogically, it’s another nail in your coffin and you can’t bear it. You can’t do it. You won’t. Furious, you rear back and hammer your fist against it, wincing at the pain, but go to stand anyway on shaking legs.

If you can’t fix the button, you’ll leave the room.

You’ll go look after Yoongi. Make sure he’s okay. Wait for Hoseok. Everything will be fine. Eventually.

“What are you going to do when it starts talking like him?” Jungkook shouts suddenly. Ice reaches down your spine, coiling in your legs, freezing you to a standstill.

You shouldn’t stay here. You need to leave. But your head cranes, looking to the stranger in the cell. He looks how you feel. Eyes red rimmed and teary, hair in disarray, hands against the one-sided glass like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“Because it will. It will, and you’ll miss him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But we have to go. Before it’s too late.”

You watch him, realization dawning in the pit of your stomach, making you feel vile.

‘It’s my fault.’

“...Kim Taehyung and Kim Seokjin.” you croak finally. “You knew they were dead.”

He stares into nothing, face falling as if you’d stabbed him before he nods slow. “...Yes.”

“You apologized to him. Taehyung. You said you ‘didn’t have a choice’.” You take a long breath that does nothing to calm the battering of your heart against your ribs. “What choice?”

He doesn’t reply.

You aren’t afraid of hearing the answer. You’re afraid that you already know it.

“What. Choice.” You repeat.

“You don’t understand,” Jungkook whispers. He rests his head against the glass and you can still see the droplets falling behind the dark curtain of hair obscuring his face. “We have to go back. Namjoon—”

“Did you hurt him?”

“No! No. No, I would never, I would never. I would never.” He sobs.

“Did you hurt your crewmates, Jungkook? Did they get ‘infected’?”

“I—” his voice cracks.

“Namjoon recalled the logs for months. Why would he do that?” You’re stepping forward now, anger, anger coursing through you, fire in place of blood in your veins. “If for months everyone onboard the Vessel Euphoria was still alive and making logs?” You pause. “Unless someone was sick. Someone he cared about. Someone, convinced that something was replacing his crew members.”

A fresh wave of tears threatens to drown you, rising into your throat.

“What did you do, Jungkook?”

He shakes his head, his entire body shivering. Slowly, he starts to drift downwards, and you can hear the muffled, crackling sounds as he cries in earnest through the speaker.

“Please. Please,” he sobs. “We have to go back.”

“We’ll go back. We’ll go when Hoseok and Jimin come back. And then we’ll go home. And from there...” It’s a struggle to clear your throat, your words sticking to the roof of your mouth. “From there, central will figure out what’s best for you.”

You turn on your heel with an artificial sense of finality, striding towards the hall even as every step feels like you’re sinking into sand. Try not to speculate. Try not to speculate. You’re doing your best. You’re trying. It’s hard to pretend you don’t hear Jungkook crying and pleading at your back, or that you don’t feel your heart break a little with every inch of distance you put between the two of you.

The hallway leads you to the med bay before you’re even really aware of the direction you’re going. When the doors slide open, you’re relieved beyond any speakable measure that Yoongi is still where you left him, sleeping peacefully on the cot.

In desperate need of something to do, some way of calming the twitching in your fingers, the caged energy thrumming behind your eyes, you start meandering about the room quietly, picking up the mess he’d made on his exit. Occasionally, you throw glances at the mechanic, almost afraid that he’s going to rise up like something out of a horror film and start spouting gibberish like Jungkook.

Instead, he just sleeps. He looks so peaceful.

Gone is the guy who rigged your alarm clock to go off at 2 am as retribution for you putting salt in his coffee. The thought occurs to you and a wry smile tugs at your lips at the memory. In the end you had to completely dismantle it. He’d fixed it so it wouldn’t turn off and instead kept blaring, waking the entire crew. Oh, he was so smug when you confronted him with a jumbled heap of wires and plastic that had once been your alarm. You almost fed it to him. Looking back, you have to stifle a giggle. Hoseok almost had both of your asses, threatened to throw you in quarantine until you’d ‘developed more professional attitudes’.

...Yoongi would know what to think. If he were in your position.

Level-headed, pragmatic Yoongi. He said from the start that things were fishy about the Euphoria mission...You wish he was awake. Just one good conversation would be enough to ease your mind, at this point. One short chat, with an awake, self-aware, grumbly Yoongi Min.

‘What are you going to do when it starts talking like him?’

A frown slowly replaces the smile on your face as you stare, Jungkook’s words rising to the foreground of your thoughts completely unbidden.

As if deep in a trance, your hand reaches out. You brush a few strands of hair back from Yoongi’s face, tracing his relaxed brow, feeling for the skin, resting your hand on his forehead. A beat passes. Two.

He’s warm under your palm, but the fever has cooled significantly. By the time he wakes up, it might have gone entirely. Your whole body sags with relief at the very thought.

He’s okay.

He’ll be okay.

‘It will. It will, and you’ll miss him.’

You won’t miss shit. He isn’t going anywhere.

You finish tidying, making sure to keep as quiet as possible, and slip back out of the ward. For a moment, you hesitate in the hallway, glancing briefly at the quarantine room.

No.

No, that won’t do.

You walk past it.

Rummaging through the kitchen, you consider digging into a few snacks, but your mind inevitably drifts back to Seokjin and Taehyung and suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. You do some of the washing up, putting away clean dishes and making sure everything is set right. For a short while, you go to your room and try to nap, but your mind whirls so brightly, so worriedly, you can’t manage to eke out any peace from it.

Time passes as a sludge. A haze. It doesn’t march, it oozes. You try not to watch the clock, but it’s impossible, as you sit and count down the minutes before your crew returns.

An hour.

Two. You’re impatient, waiting, ears peeled for the automated message from the doors. The crackle of radio. Nothing.

With every minute over the two hour mark, your anxiety mounts until you’re having trouble catching your breath, chest tight and palms sweaty.

Why aren’t they back?

They should be back.

If they were within range of either of the towers, they would have radioed in.

You’ve started pacing around your small room, checking your comm. The seconds can be marked by the thud of your heart in your chest until finally you can’t stand it anymore and you start towards the communications room. Again, you have to pass by quarantine. Again you hesitate. But your feet are moving without you, propelling you forwards with haste fuelled by concern.

You swing your body into the worn, ripped captain’s chair, brushing over the buttons and switches with all the deft awareness of someone who’s been through the lifetime of training you have. The system takes a moment to itself to boot properly, but displays its startup checks in due time. Everything’s green. Everything’s go. You take a deep breath and press the button to transmit to nearby towers, making sure to amplify the signal enough to reach just that little bit past their respective ranges. It’s not very far, but considering their two hours are up, either they’re close to the Epiphany’s range, they haven’t left Euphoria’s or they’ve taken a detour in the opposite direction on top of a barren planet—unlikely, considering that neither of your crewmates are stupid.

“This is Communications from the stationed Vessel Epiphany, requesting contact with Officer Jung Hoseok and Specialist Park Jimin. Please confirm copy,” you intone.

There’s a silence broken only by the painful thudding of your own heart in your ears.

Again, you press the button.

“Repeat, Officer Jung and Specialist Park, confirm copy.”

Nothing.

You want desperately to throw yourself backwards and shriek, scream into the void. Dig your fingers through your hair until you pull it out by the roots, kick out with your legs and wreck the hulking pile of garbage in front of you.

“Godammit, guys, pick up your fucking comms.” You’re spitting down the line before you can stop yourself, your hand shaky where you hold the microphone steady.

Still you receive no answer.

You’re biting back tears for what feels like the millionth time in the past few hours. Jimin and Hoseok out of line and out of time. Yoongi in a coma. A boy locked in quarantine that may or may not have committed some act of violence against his crew members. And you. Just you. Your body leans forward, leaning your forehead against the desk, being sure to avoid the important switches.

“Please pick up.” You murmur, even knowing it won’t transmit without your finger on the button. “Please pick up.”

You don’t know how long you sit there waiting. Your breath eventually evens itself out and you slip into this state of suspension, poised to answer at the slightest hint of a reply. But still nothing happens.

You lift your head, blearily watching the lights wink.

What could have happened to delay them? Where could they have gone? You have two options. You wait here, for any sign, any communication. And in the meantime, they could be hurt. Stranded, somehow. A malfunction with the buggy. A wire tripped with their communicators. The flowers, perhaps reclaiming a pivotal turn in the road somewhere, leading them off-course. It isn't like either of them to just...not check in. Especially not after their discovery. Hoseok’s announcement. The failure of the mission.

The thought of staying here for much longer, doing nothing, is enough to make your skin crawl.

Right.

So the second option, then.

You shove yourself off the console, standing, stretching, casting one last grim look at the system before you shut it back down and leave the room, heading determinedly towards quarantine.

Jungkook’s fallen to his knees at the window, head against the glass, arms by his sides. He looks like he’s fallen asleep, but the staccato of his breaths tells you otherwise.

The buggy won’t have enough fuel for multiple trips. You’ll have one shot out there, to reach primary and look for Jimin and Hoseok, refuel there, and come back. And you’ll need Jungkook, if you’re going to get the fuel you need to go home.

“You said you know where the fuel cells are kept,” you begin. “Were you telling the truth?”

He shifts, barely, leaning his cheek towards you. His breath fogs the glass when he murmurs a quiet reply. “Yes.”

“If I take you there, we can grab a replacement cell.”

He perks up at that, turning to stare again at where he approximates you might be, struggling to unsteady feet.

“And open the tower,” he adds.

Your mouth purses into a firm line. “The tower,” you echo.

“The tower.” he repeats, emphatic.

There’s a moment of silence. “What’s in the tower, Jungkook?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t like that. You don’t like that at all. If you’re going to make the only trip to primary, you have to knock out as many objectives as possible. Search for Hoseok and Jimin on the way there and back, recover the fuel tank, and complete your original mission. Find out what happened to the communication of the Euphoria. Logistically, you need to get inside of that tower.

But why is he so keen on it?

“...I’ll tell you what. Give me the code.” He’s already shaking his head. “And we’ll both go to the primary base.”

“No,” he mutters. “No, you’ll leave me here.”

He’s right. You watch him grimly through the glass.

“You’re going to have to answer for what happened on Euphoria, Jungkook. You know that. You can’t outrun it. Please don’t make this difficult.”

“What happened,” he enunciates clear, slow, suddenly drawn bitterly through a snarl, “was not. My. Fault.”

“Then tell me what it was.”

His nostrils flare. His eyes water, brows drawing close over his forehead. Again, he shakes his head.

“I can leave you here anyway,” you press. “I can just leave you here and go myself, go looking myself.”

“You’re wasting time. Time for all of us. I have to go back. I ha—have to fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“...The tower.”

He’s lying. He’s lying through his teeth. You can see it in the way his eyes flit away from yours, staring holes into the panelling to his right. But he’s being purposefully obtuse. And unfortunately, he’s right. Every minute you sit here and argue with him is another minute you lose to uncertainty. To inaction.

“I need your word that you aren’t going to attack me. I’m going to keep sedatives with me, and if you so much as blink in a way I don’t like I’m knocking you out and we’re coming right back here.”

“I swear I won’t attack you,” he breathes, eyes wide.

“Swear on your life.”

He hesitates, a sigh leaving his chapped lips. “I swear.”

“...Okay. Alright. I’m going to get supplies first. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hurry.”

What are you doing? What are you doing?

You’ve lost your mind is what you’ve done. What you’re doing. But it’s already been an hour since Jimin and Hoseok should have been back, and your stomach is doing somersaults just thinking of what might be keeping them. Your body is already in motion, desperate to reassign some of that anxious energy to movement, grabbing the sedatives and stowing them away in the pocket of your jumpsuit. It’s never been a habit of yours, praying, but you send out a quick one that you won’t have to use them. You’re packing a spare charger for your comms, making sure the spare suit is good enough for Jungkook to wear, ignoring the apprehension trying to cloud your vision.

Your heart rises into your throat when you step to the hangar, for a brief moment thinking that maybe you missed their arrival. Maybe the buggy is already there. Maybe you’ll see it speeding over the horizon just as you go down there and you’ll be able to call this whole madness off. But no. The space where the first one was is empty, and through the thick glass on the outside of the hangar you can only see the persistent waving of thousands upon thousands of bright red flowers. It’s only about noon—the suns are high in the sky, bathing the landscape in bright yellows and a warm blush. You can’t even see where the flowers had been burned away anymore.

Checking the fuel tank confirms your suspicions. You won’t be making more than one trip in this thing. That’s fine. That’s fine. For better or worse, you can manage it. For your crew.

Lastly, you go back to the sick bay.

Thankfully, Yoongi is still sleeping, and continues to slumber as you skirt around him and pick up a paper and a pencil. You scribble out a quick note, keeping one eye peeled for any sign that he’s being disturbed.

Min—

Gonna go get the fuel cells & teammates.

Door locked to keep you from sleepwalking again. Code is the date of our 1st mission.

See you soon. :)

When you’ve finished, you reach out on a whim and circle a comforting hand around his upper arm.

“Be right back, Min,” you whisper. “I’m gonna go grab those other two idiots and then...then we’ll head home. Alright?”

You tuck the paper gingerly underneath one of his hands.

“Read the note before you start wandering off again, you weirdo,” You add with a faint scoff.

You stand, heading to the outside of the doors. One last look at the mechanic as he rests, before you’re keying into the panel on the side. Should be simple enough. If he’s still feverish when he gets up, he probably won’t be cognizant enough to both read the note and remember the date. There’s also a chance he’ll wake up, forget it, be pissed, and then try to contact you to whine about trapping him unfairly in the med bay, but you’ll take that any day.

You head to quarantine. Jungkook is more alert than you’ve ever seen him, attention captured easily by the sound of the doors sliding open, eyes scanning his side of the mirror.

“Okay. All set.” you tell him, moving to the door button. “I’m going to open the door now. You’ll follow me down to the hangar. We’ll get in the buggy and make the trip up to the primary base, keeping an eye out for my crew. We’ll grab replacement cells and bring them back.” You pause.

“I swear to god, if there’s any funny business, I won’t hesitate, Jeon. You don’t know me but I know you. I’ve seen your logs, I’ve studied your file.”

It’s a bluff. Even Jimin could barely keep a handle on him. You aren’t sure you have the guts to back up any threat you make, much less the musculature. But it’s a necessary bluff.

“No funny business,” he mumbles, casting his gaze at the door expectantly. “I swear.”

The keypad chimes as you press the buttons, the door jolting once before finally sliding to the side, and for a minute, you’re afraid he’s going to leap out at you, hands raised, eyes wild. Instead, he steps out gingerly, with all the uncertainty of a newborn deer, clutching at the frame for support.

It occurs to you, as he stands before you, making eye contact once and nodding, firm, that it really is just the two of you right now. If anything were to happen…

You banish the thought. It’s all going to go according to plan. As you half-turn to start leading him down the hall, your hand brushes past the sedatives in your pocket, and you feel determination rise in you. Determination to make this work. It’s all gonna be okay, dammit, and it’ll be okay because you make it so.

“There’s enough to get us out to secondary. We can refuel there, head back, look for them on the way.” You begin to explain as the two of you walk to the hangar. You pause, turning to look at Jungkook. “You’re sure you know where the spare fuel tanks are kept. You can get us to them and out. Quickly.”

He nods, shrugging to the side, watching the far doorway. “Yes.”

The two of you get suited up in silence. For a moment, you consider offering to help him get it on, but though his eyes glass over with the aftershocks of some memory, he still slips into it with the ease you’d expect. He doesn’t offer any comment but another short nod when you ask if he’s good. You both clamber into the buggy. You press the buttons for the opening sequence to activate, listening to the hiss of air as the doors behind you seal shut.

Garage 1 opening, the overhead voice drones.

You tighten your grip on the steering wheel, looking to Jungkook for a brief moment. He’s sinking into his seat, eyes wide, fixated on the dashboard. His whole body is curling in on itself, his expression deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

“Alright?” you ask.

He shuts his eyes tightly, bowing his head until the bottom of his helmet rests on his chest, bouncing once in an approximation of a nod. You’ll take it. The engine kicks into gear when you rev it and you start your descent down the ramp, into the field of gently waving flowers, aiming for the metal waypoint on the horizon that points towards primary.

Your companion doesn’t speak again, only inhaling sharply every so often when the vehicle hits a bump and jostles the two of you.

You don’t either.

You’re too deep in thought.

The locked communications tower.

Hoseok and Jimin found Taehyung and Seokjin. Not Namjoon.

...What if Namjoon is alive? After all, Jungkook managed to survive this whole time.

The cynic in you doesn’t want to hope. You set your jaw and continue on, grimly aware of one fact.

If Namjoon is alive—and God, you hope he is—then you have to assume the worst. You have to assume the worst about the person in the seat next to you.

You keep an anxious eye on the scenery, scanning for any sign of Jimin and Hoseok and praying that you’ll find it.

Previous Masterlist Next

#bts sci fi au #bts scifi au #bts thriller #bts fanfic #vessel euphoria #we definitely aren't making it to 10 LMAO #welcome to the beginning of the end guys #place ur bets whos alive whos right and whos crazy #:PPP

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Fragmentation 0.1 - JHS

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions of suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,008

AN: It’s finally here! I know that I am still in the process of updating Make It Right, but I have been dying to get this series off the ground. Especially since no one in the fandom has written in this Universe from what I can see. So I’m super excited to share this with you all. This is the prequel to my upcoming series, Defragmentation, which showcases everyone’s origin stories and how they managed to escape from The Matrix. Because this universe is so extensive, I strongly suggest that people utilize the official Matrix Wiki as a reference point because there will be much in this world that I will not go into in-depth explanations for. Again, if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, please feel free to message us!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge (I’m adding you because I purple you; don’t @ me)

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Sabine saw The Code first.

Just after his fourteenth birthday, Hoseok met up with his best friend after school for their traditional birthday shenanigans. The funny birthday card, the sweet cupcake with a single candle on top, and a handmade present that he knew Sabine spent the better part of three months putting together. That was supposed to be the plan. Nothing changed in the ten years they knew each other.

Instead of meeting on the roof after school, Sabine told Hoseok she would be waiting for him at the abandoned playground on the edge of town. He didn’t understand why she wanted to meet there, of all places. Kids didn’t go there anymore because of a major accident and the lack of upkeep made it look creepy. Going there after the sun went down just gave it eerie vibes.

When he arrived, Sabine was idly moving back and forth on one of the swings. Her eyes looked focused on something just behind him. When Hoseok turned to see if there was anyone there, he felt a chill slide down his back when there was nothing. He wasn’t sure if Sabine was trying to scare him, but it was working.

“Hey, Hobi,” she called to him, standing from the swing to meet him, “you haven’t been using your inhaler lately.”

He tilted his head slightly. Now that she mentioned it, he hadn’t been. The doctor told him to only use it when he felt it was necessary. For the last year, he didn’t feel a need. P.E. wasn’t as hard for him as it used to be and he could run four full laps around the track without feeling winded.

“No, I haven’t,” he replied, meeting her gaze, “but why bring that up, Bean?”

She smirked, brushing past him to stare out across the road. The street lights flickered to life, illuminating the pastel green landscape around them. Hoseok knew that look and it almost always meant trouble. He really didn’t want to get involved with another of her hair-brained schemes on a school night.

“Can you see it?”

He turned to look in her direction, her back still facing toward him. “See what?”

He watched Sabine’s back muscles tense slightly until she craned her neck to look at him. “You can’t see it?”

“See what?” he repeated with a sigh. “I don’t see anything except you being weird.”

For a while, Sabine said nothing. It wasn’t like her to be silent for this long and Hoseok was consciously aware of how hard she was looking at him. He was about to tell her to say something, anything, instead of staring at him like he’d grown a second head. Just then, she let out a defeated sigh and began walking away, leaving him behind.

“Hey,” he called, already starting after her, “what am I not seeing?”

“Doesn’t matter,” came her dejected response, “no point if you can’t see it.”

He wanted to keep bugging her about what it was she was seeing and he wasn’t, but Sabine clearly made up her mind about something.

Hoseok just wished he knew what that “something” was.

“Sabine, wait!”

Hoseok watched his best friend continue her ascent up the fire escape without him. He tried not to be too loud, considering that their neighbors were middle-aged office drones who worked nine to five hours and had 2.5 kids. The last time it got rowdy in their complex, the local authorities were called almost immediately. Add the fact that they were sneaking out after curfew and it was easy to see why Hoseok was a little nervous to be raising his voice.

But Sabine kept going, as if she hadn’t heard him.

Pouting, Hoseok quickly ran up the stairwell after her - his legs feeling much lighter than they usually did. Normally he would feel winded trying to keep up with her, but today it felt easier to breathe. Which was strange, considering he’d been diagnosed with asthma since he was a child.

Then again, a lot of things were different for the past two years.

His parents told him that it was the normal adolescent hormones that popped up at the age of thirteen. “Puberty” and all that nonsense. He’d learned about it in school and, at the time, it made sense. He figured that it was just “growing pains” and nothing more.

Ever since his fourteenth birthday, however, he knew that things were changing at a pace that almost didn’t seem natural. Things were getting weirder and weirder every day. Hoseok even had a weird case of déjà vu when he thought he saw the same cat go by twice.

That couldn’t have been the case, though. That sort of stuff wasn’t real.

Hoseok mentioned it to Sabine just a few days before his fifteenth birthday. He remembered the way her eyes almost seemed to light up - a look he hadn’t seen on her face in almost a year. The truth? Their friendship was strained and Hoseok was confused as to why. He couldn’t remember doing anything to upset her and she was the sort of person who was blunt and honest about her feelings at all times.

Though she had been surfing the net more and more. There were days where Sabine would skip out on their normal hangout time to stay glued to her computer. Her parents said she was studying or doing homework, but he knew Sabine was extremely intelligent and rarely had to put any real effort into her school assignments. Hoseok was no dummy either, but even he needed her help from time to time when it came to classwork.

The days bled into weeks and then the weeks into months. Before long, he was beginning to dread that things weren’t going to be the same between them anymore.

Then Sabine showed up at his door, telling him to come with her to the roof of their apartment complex. He wasn’t about to question her reasoning. Hoseok was just glad that she was talking to him again outside of class.

When he finally reached the top, Sabine was standing on the edge of the roof on the other side. Her dark curls whipped around her head as a sudden gust of wind blew through the air. Hoseok shivered, feeling the cold bite go straight through him. He crossed the roof to where she was, rubbing at his arms to warm them up.

“So,” he said, trying to ignore the awkward feeling in the air, “what’s up?”

She continued to stand on the rooftop’s edge, her hands stuffed into the large front pocket of her hoodie. Sabine didn’t answer him right away and while that would have bothered him before, he was just glad to be able to be close to his friend again. If he was admitting anything to himself, it was that Hoseok missed her. A lot.

“Do you feel that?” she asked suddenly, causing him to look up at her.

“Feel what?”

Sabine sighed, turning to look down at him. “C’mon, Hobi. I know you feel that.”

He really didn’t understand what she meant, and was about to tell her as much. Suddenly, she reached down to grab his arm so she could pull him up onto the perch beside her. Hoseok almost squawked, losing his balance slightly until she tightened her hold on his sleeve to steady him.

“Bean, I really don’t know what you’re talking about…” And he felt bad about it.

“No. I think you do.” Sabine gave him a pointed look. “You feel it, but you just don’t want to admit it.”

He sighed. “What is it I’m supposed to be feeling, Bean?”

“That this,” she said, stretching her arm out toward the cityscape, “isn’t real.”

Hoseok balked at her. “Wait, what?” He blinked once. “What?!”

This time she scoffed. “You haven’t had to use your inhaler in the last two years. You run the track regularly during P.E. and you’re able to keep up with me now.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue with what she was insinuating. It wasn’t like any of it was a lie. But to say that none of it was real? That was just crazy.

“I’ve been reading up on these forums and there are whispers about this place. About how it’s not real.” Sabine’s brows furrowed as she bit her lower lip, averting her gaze from his. “How our whole life is one giant lie.”

A soft ache welled in his heart. Had she been battling with these feelings of depression alone all this time? Was that why she’d pushed him away?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out to grasp her hand, “that’s not true. How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. I’ve seen the glitches. I’ve seen the code.” Her tone was a mixture of hurt and indifference, like she couldn’t decide what emotion to display to him. Sabine turned to look at him. “And you have too. You just keep pretending that you haven’t.”

Hoseok frowned. “Sabine, come on…”

“You just want to keep being blind to it, but I know you’ve seen it too!”

The truth? He had. He had seen weird things - almost like flickers and after images. He figured it was because he was overworking himself or that his body was continuing its weird pubescent changes. What other reasoning was there? If he saw the same cat twice, it was just a coincidence. If he felt lighter on his feet, it was because he was taking the time to exercise properly. If there were ripples in the glass reflecting a person that was both him and not him, that had nothing to do with anything. It didn’t mean that their world wasn’t real or that their lives had no meaning.

...right?

A rush of movement reclaimed his attention and he screamed in horror as Sabine jumped off the roof. Hoseok reached out, grabbing at her wrists. The force of the jump coupled with gravity pulling her weight down in a rush caused his knees to crash into the concrete perch. The pain was immediate and he gripped onto Sabine with all of his might. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he looked down at his best friend, unable to fathom why she’d had the sudden urge to want to kill herself.

“Let go,” she said, causing him to sob.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Just let go, Hoseok.”

When he looked down at her, she wore an expression he couldn’t place. It seemed almost peaceful; resolute. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a level of acceptance plastered over Sabine’s face that was profound. It caused his heart to leap into his throat and for a moment, the landscape dissolved into an array of black with strings of green numbers and letters in every direction. Even his best friend’s image was shaped around these numbers and letters.

His knees scraped across the concrete, causing his grip to slip a little. And then everything returned to normal. Or, at least, the normal that he believed himself accustomed to.

When Hoseok’s eyes met Sabine’s once again, he saw her crying. He didn’t have to ask why. Because he already knew the answer.

“...it’s not real,” he mumbled.

Sabine nodded, smiling up at him. “So let go.” Her fingers tightened around his wrists. “Let’s go.”

He smiled at her, leaning down a little further, and gave a small laugh. “Okay.”

Hoseok waited for her to close her eyes first. Then he closed his. When he felt her thumbs pressing into his wrists, her silent way of saying she wasn’t going anywhere, he let gravity take hold of them both. The world rushed around his ears - the wind howling from the speed of their descent. At some point, he groped blindly until his arms wrapped around Sabine in a strong embrace.

And then everything went dark.

“Welcome to the Real World.”

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bangtanniex · 5 years

Text

Rose; Chapter 2

Title: Rose

Rating: Explicit

Group: BTS

Ship: Taehyung x Yoongi

Words: 5.6k

AO3 tags: SCIFI AU; sorta; like near future; Genetically Engineered Beings; lots of fluff; Panicked gay yoongi; confident gay tae; crossdressing; masturbation; sex toys; hyung kink; genderfluid tae; noona kink; anal sex; rimming

Summary: Two months flew by seemingly in the blink of an eye for the two men. Yoongi spent much of those months covering every available space in his room with drawings. It was beginning to get out of hand and Seokjin was starting to call his muse an obsession. Perhaps, he was right. After all, Yoongi couldn’t seem to keep his mind off of Taehyung. He flooded his mind at all moments of the day.

#bts #taegi #min yoongi #kim taehyung #bts fanfic #bts au #bts scifi au #hk #cd #nk #rose

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justoneday-namjoonii · 6 years

Text

Color me moonlight. II

�� • I • II • III • IV • V • VI • VII ☽

› Summary: Some flowers are not to be plucked, for their thorns are far too sharp for any hand to graze, yet, she was touched. She was soft, fragile, she didn’t know it, but something that beautiful could never be bad. You grew up in a garden of loneliness, do you have a place to bloom? It’s alright, I’ll give you a place and we can bloom together.

a/n: thank you for all of the love part 1 received! I was really happy to see that some of you are following this story(im personally loving it myself). If there are any questions at all, don’t hesistate to send in an ask! Your feed back is more than welcomed ♥♥

April 7th, 1988.

“Jane Sato, date of Biological Alteration and Repair test run, April 7th, 1988. Time, 1:07 Pm. Subject 1010; 20 years of age, male, 129 lb, 5′9. Biochemistry, molecular biology, bioinformatics, DNA-Polymerase, chromosomal translocation, and genetic isolates are among the primary research conducted for the operation. The patient’s condition of severe cell degeneration, Sickle-cell disease, and genetic malformations —” She paused, the recorders red light still on, “— compatible with all inquiries of biogenetic mutation and enhancement. Surgery will commence accompanied by surgeons, Jackson Blanchard, Stephanie Liu, Hanz Fai, and surgical nurse Joyce Brown. Surgery will now begin.”

The scientists and doctors in the facility watched from the viewing room, standing right at the glass so they wouldn’t miss a thing. Her personal favorite, clair de lune, was the last song on the playlist in the background. After roughly 7 hours, the operation was complete.

“Alright,” She inspected with work they had done over several hours. The surgical mask, gown, and gloves were beginning to become a part of her from how long she had them on, “stitch him up.”

She went to the sink in the back where she had left the recorder and thrown her gloves away.

“7:40 PM. The operation was successful. All vital signs are normal and patient 1010-FS is expected to recover well.”

She washed up before greeting the group of eager professionals who came to witness history. She clears her throat. “Alright, questions?”

‘I have a question doctor. Last month, you discussed the possibility of a program dedicated to your research, can you tell us more about that?’

She nods. “Yes. I‘ve served the Medical Science Advisory for three years now and since the opening of the SRMA Facility, I’ve come far with my research. Starting next year, my program will start.”

“What does the program entail exactly?”

“First, 120 volunteers from all over the country will take part in the experimentation. I won’t reveal everything but I will say this, the participants will undergo extreme DNA modifications and molecular mutation on a supernatural level.”

***

October 19th, 1992. 4 years post-program.

The program commenced in 1989 and experimentations took place at the Science-Medical Facility. Just as she planned, 120 participants were under intensive study and experimentation. More volunteers came from all over, ranging from ages 10 to 30, per Dr. Sato’s request. Recently, Sato had begun to categorize the most and least successful cross-studies. The 4% of experiments with the M2-gene were separated to undergo intensive modification.

“Jane.”

“Yes?” She measured the potent liquid, one drop more and it would kill the receiver.

“Patient 1072.” Her assistant, Diana, placed the clipboard in on the doctor’s work table. “She’s been showing a lot of physical and behavioral progress.”

“1072, she’s in the lower level group, yeah? That’s good” Sato flipped through a book, her gaze softening. “Look at this, in 1973 in the United Kingdom, this poor thing was born with Tay-Sachs disease. She had seizures, vision and hearing loss, intellectual disability, and paralysis and she died at the age of 3.” She sighed. “I could have saved that girl and given her a life without pain and suffering. Those doctors didn’t know what they were doing...that’s why she died.”

Diana cleared her throat, nodding as she waits for the doctor to notice that she came here for something else.

“I’m sorry, what about 1072?”

“Oh, she’s receiving the DNA modification well, I think she can join the 4%.”

“Let me have a look-”

The facility speakers blared.

Dr. Sato to room B012.

“I guess I’ll have to wait.” Sato slipped her reading glasses off and made her way to the elevator so she could get to the 9th floor.

“Doctor, thank God.” Blanchard was standing in front of the patient's room with a few of their colleagues.

“What’s going on?”

“The experiment, he’s developed his first sign of mutation. His body is still weak but he has physical changes, you’d be amazed.” Her eyes brightened, this was her favorite part of the program, witnessing the changes. “We’ve watched him for 4 hours straight and well- You have to see him yourself.”

“Show me.”

He opened the door and let her walk in by herself, the boy sat up on the bed, seemingly normal aside from his extreme lack of pigment in his eyes, they looked translucent, almost pale. That was new. She approached him.

“Touch my hand.” She spoke, waiting for him to do it. “Go on, it’s okay.” He slowly reached his hand to place it on hers. Warm, his hand was warm and she felt a pang of heat in her chest, he winced, retreating his hand immediately.

“You’re coming along great.” She insisted. “Get some rest and you’ll get your medicine shortly.” She left the boy to sit in the room.

“Did you see it, doctor?”

“Yes. Continue testing and make a date for his procedure.” She instructed and he nodded. She was about to walk down the hall but she paused. “Oh, and move him up to the 4%.”

“Stupid earrings!” You kick the side of your vanity, instantly regretting it when a surge of pain went up to your leg.

The only pair of diamond earrings you owned were missing and you had 10 minutes to get to the subway or bus for the North Heights. Half of your hair was okay while the other side looked like a mangled up tumbleweed. You got the sleeve of your blouse caught in the bleach water for dishes so you had to change for the third time. This morning was starting off pretty rough.

Margaret never specified a time until 6 o’clock this morning. She said Mr. Kim has appointments all day after 9 so, ‘Be here by 7:30.’ You live a half-hour away, and that’s when the bus isn’t late or if you catch a taxi on a good day. It was currently 6:47 and you were vigorously passing a comb through your hair. At this point, it doesn’t even matter if you look like Synthia from the Rugrats, you had to get out of here. You grabbed a ponytail holder and tied it up, at least you had somewhat of a presentable style now. Your little skirt and top would have to work with a pair of flats because there is no way you’re running around this city in heels today.

“How is it 7 already!?” You glanced at the microwave clock and cursed it for mocking you. The yogurt you attempted to eat would have to wait until you come back. You threw your bag onto your shoulder and bolted out of the door.

You ran down the few flights of stairs, stopping in front of the complex and holding your cell phone in your hand to search the bus and subway schedule. “Off of Miller and Maine- Departed?!- That’s it, the world has it out for me.”

The subway was too far of a walk and the 7 o'clock bus just left, there is no way you’re gonna get there before 7:45. “Why...” You looked around, about to wave down a taxi when a man in a tapped your shoulder. “Taxi!-”

“Excuse me, Miss?”

“Yes?” You furrowed your brows, wondering what this older fellow might want that apparently can’t wait.

“Are you Y/f/n?” You noticed the gentlemen wore a black chauffeur hat and uniform.

“Yes, can I help you, sir?- Wait, how do you know my name?” You gave him a suspicious expression.

“I am your driver for this morning ma’am, Bernard Shelton. Mr. Kim sent a car for you. I knocked on your apartment door but you must not have heard me. He requested that I apologize on is behalf for the short notice.” You looked past him to see a black luxury vehicle with tents that might as well have been a black hole. “Are you ready to go?”

“Um,” You didn’t know if you could trust this guy, despite his convincing attire and professional mannerisms. “I’m sorry but how do I know Mr. Kim sent you? I mean, wouldn’t he have his secretary tell me this?”

“Would you like to contact Ms. Gough for verification? We’re already running late and Mr. Kim has appointments all day after 9 o’clock. We really must be going, ma’am.” You glanced at your watch, it was 7:09, this is your best bet.

“Alright...” With hopes that you weren’t getting kidnapped, you followed him in the car and sat anxiously in the backseat. Your fingers grazed the flawless interior, making you wonder why a car of this prowess came to pick you up. Upon request of the CEO at that.

“We’re here ma’am, with one minute to spare.” He smiled, stopping you in front of the huge skyscraper in the middle of the fine part of the city.

“Thank you.” You hopped out of the car and made your way inside. The lobby was far more beautiful than the one at your office. There were sparkling light fixtures, expensive paintings gracing to tall walls and you found your self-walking towards the front desk slower than you should have.

“Hello, I have an appointment with Mr. Kim at 7:30.”

The woman looked through her computer and she couldn’t hide the judgments glint in her eye when she looked at you. “Your name?”

“Y/n.”

She picked up the black corded phone. “Margeret, I have a Y/n here to see Mr. Kim, would you like me to send her up?” A few seconds went by and she nodded. “Alright, I'll send her up.” She put the phone back on the hook. “You can go ahead. Top floor, directly in front of you when you exit the elevator, his secretary is to the right of his office.”

“Thank you.” Quickly, you went to the elevator and took it straight up to the top floor. A light ‘ding’ noise and you were let out on the quiet floor, not a single soul making a sound on the pristine floor.

“Excuse me,” You walked up to the desk that said ‘Margeret Gough.’ “Ms. Gough?”

“You’re here.” She had a kind smile. “He’s waiting for you, he just got off of his first-morning call. One moment,” She pressed a red button on the phone hook, “you’re 7:30 is here sir, should I send her in now?” She was talking to Taehyung.

“Yes, you can send her in.”

Your courage started to falter when you heard his voice, now you were really, really nervous. But now is not the time to be timid—you have to hold your head high and walk in there with confidence.

“Okay, sir.” A beep signaled that he turned off the phone. “Go on ahead.” She gestured to the door, a kind simper beckoning you to go in. “No need to be nervous, Mr. Kim is in a very good mood this morning.” She giggled, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Just breathe...” You mumbled, slowly pushing open one of the two tall double doors at the end of the hall.

Your eyes met him instantly as he stood in front of the window the covered the entire wall. The view was ridiculous.

His eyes widened upon your entrance. “Good morning.” He smiled a bit, one hand on a coffee mug while the other rested in his pocket. The dainty necklace with a tiny diamond on the end of it brought his attention to the v neck of your camel-colored blouse.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim.” You brought a had to the side of your neck briefly and that small movement prompted his eyes to find the soft indent of your collarbones.

He cleared his throat. “I apologize for this being so short notice, I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience for you.” By the time he walked over to the gesture that you sit, you had already made yourself comfortable in the small leather chair in front of his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you for sending the car, by the way, you really didn’t have to do that.” It was a kind gesture but you didn’t feel it was necessary.

“No, it was the least I could do. Last night, I remembered I had these meetings to do and I couldn’t help but want to do one with you since we talked last night.” He sipped his coffee. “So, I asked Margeret to contact you.” He swiveled his chair a bit. “I guess we should get right into it then, yeah?”

“What is it, exactly?”

“Just reviewing company regulations, how you think your locations management is, things like that...” He laid a sheet of paper with a bunch of questions and long black lines, right in front of you. “Would you fill that out? It’s like a survey, a business owner seminar suggested I get to know the business and this was one way to do it.”

“Alright...” You did what you had to do, writing simple answers to questions like, ‘how does your management treat you? Do you feel like an important part of the team?’ Important? Eh, sure, you thought, trying to compile meaningful sentences. After five minutes or so, you were on the very last question and before your pen touched the paper, you froze. “D-did you say something?”

The confusion on his face probably meant no. “No.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something...” You bashfully went back to the paper, quickly scribbling down an answer before setting the pen back in the pen holder. “I’m done.”

“Great. So, how did you feel about the survey? Margeret made the questions with her assistant, she said this would be a good way to see how the employees feel about the company. It wasn’t too boring I hope.”

“It was fine,” It was a generic survey.

“Let me ask you, do you feel like a valued employee?” The question was pretty simple, but you found yourself scrambling for a response that clearly expressed how you felt.

“Valued? Um...” This was going to sound pessimistic but oh well. “Well, if I quit today and someone gets hired to take my job tomorrow, does that change your profits in any way?” He assumed it was a rhetorical question. “No, I don’t think it does. So how important could I be to you? Sure, I think I’m valued but I see it this way, there’s a job that needs to be done and I’m just the person who does it, no one too special...” He had never heard such an unenthusiastic statement from an employee before, he always viewed his father's company as one big family but based on what you were saying, it wasn’t as family-oriented as he believed.

“I’m sorry, that sounds kind of negative, doesn’t it?” His silence made you realize that what you said was probably the last thing a boss wanted to hear. “I don’t hate my job, I just don’t see the point in fabricating anything, Mr. Kim. Your company is great and all, but for me, it’s just a job that helps support me...”

“Well,” Your eyes followed him as he walked to the cute little coffee maker to fill up his mug again, “is there anything I can do to make your job more enjoyable? I don’t want you to feel like you’re a machine in a factory, you are an important member of this company. I mean that.”

“Look,” You sighed, standing up from your chair to walk near the window, taking this opportunity to appreciate the cities beauty from a bird's eye view, “I chose to work for you because it’s a reputable company and your cameras are nice.” When you glanced at him, he saw your real smile for the first time, your teeth showing and everything. Sadly, you shielded it from his sight as he approached you. “If it’s worth anything, I think you’re doing a good job with this whole CEO thing, in my professional opinion at least.” You smiled, he deserved some type of praise for reaching out to his people like this.

“Thank you, that means a lot.” The urge to walk up to you and tangle his finger in the stray strand of hair in your ponytail but he resisted. “You know, because of you, we discontinued Model 0XHS-5D.”

He was standing beside you now. “Really?”

“Yes, and it has impacted sales positively. We cut off the manufacture and it shows in the stock market, all because of you Y/n.”

“Oh, that’s good, I’m glad I could be of some assistance...” When you sensed him trying to stand a bit too close for comfort, you walked back to your seat. The lack of sleep was kicking in because you found yourself leaning against the side of the chair with your forearm—and the coffee in his hand smelled like heaven. He followed you, taking his previous position in his chair.

“I like the idea of...I don’t know, talking to someone I already know, it’s refreshing.”

“With all due respect sir, you don’t really know me.” The coo in your voice wasn’t intentional but you were just being honest. “Sure, we talked at the party and last night, but other than that...We’re strangers.” You trailed off, not really sure how you were supposed to end that statement.

“Y/n.” He breathed, thinking he may as well just outright say it—it would happen eventually. “Would you join me for lunch? My lunch appointment canceled before you came, so I have a reservation that I don’t have to cancel if you join me.”

Lunch? That was the last thing you were expecting to hear this morning. His eyes seemed to latch onto you and refuse to let you go until you answered his question.

“L-lunch? I appreciate the offer but...” You swallowed, for a split second, you considered taking him up on the offer but you quickly dismissed the preposterous idea. I can’t do that, he’s my boss. “But I can’t, I have to get back to work, it’s already past 8 and I- I don’t think that’s the best idea given I kinda work for you...”

“Work’s not a problem, I gave all survey participants the day off anyway. A 12:30 lunch is more than appropriate for our relationship I think...” Eager, that’s what he probably looked like, but the desperation to get near you was hard to ignore. That same way you looked on the terrace at the party, you still looked that way and he couldn’t just disregard it.

You locked eyes with him—tempting, very much so, but no. Absolutely not.

“I’m sorry,” You stood to your feet and he followed suit, standing much taller than you, especially without your trusty high heels on. “but I can’t.”

Any hopes of a day accompanied by you came crashing down as you politely rejected him. The only person he wanted to dine with at that restaurant didn’t want anything to do with him. The way you nibbled on your bottom lip implied that you were starting to feel uncomfortable. He took a small step back, you were dying to get out of here and he was perplexed onto why.

A beep interrupted you, it was Margeret.

“Your 8:30 is here, should I send them in?”

He was quiet, still peering at you as if it would change your final answer. Sadly for him, it did nothing for his cause...

He pressed the button on the phone base. “Give me one moment.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be going now-” You tried to gather your purse and get out of dodge but he stopped you.

“No wait, take this.” He grabbed a business card and wrote a string of numbers and words on it. “This is my personal cell.” He handed it to you. “With this number, I’m Taehyung, not Mr. Kim. So, if you feel more comfortable going to lunch with him,” He smiled halfheartedly. “he’ll be there.”

“Alright...” You tucked it into your purse and bowed respectfully before turning your back to leave.

“Do you like jazz or classical music?”

You paused, you weren’t expecting such a question. “Um, I enjoy both. Why?”

There was an itch at the back of his neck and he satisfied the nuisance with the tip of his index finger. “I thought maybe that was why we ended up at that cafe last night, a common interest.”

“Yeah, maybe...” You mumbled, turning around to continue your path out the door.

Meeting with Taehyung wasn’t so bad after all, you scored a day off. You took it upon yourself to get a few things done and spend a little time with one of your only friends. He was being currently studying medicine, technology, science - things like that. He offered to come to your favorite cafe to study with you and a few minutes ago, his lab partner joined you two. The bug seemed to have gotten to them too...

The cafe had the news on in the background and they were playing the same news bit from last night which led Hoseok to strike up a conversation with the lab girl he’s always with.

“What do you think about the 1989 Project? Does your supervising physician ever talk about it? Especially since the media won’t shut up about it.” Hoseok, your good friend for a few years now met you at the cafe so you could catch up on your language studies.

“She’s mentioned it a few times but I try not to ask about it.” Wendy decided to join you two as well, she and Hoseok were going to school for the same thing so they often studied together.

“What do you think about it Y/n?” Hoseok looked to you. Given you were really into that whole medical and technology thing, you wondered why he had to ask.

“Um,” You took out one earbud, “I don’t know, it’s interesting I guess.” Assuming he was going to continue talking, you kept the earbud out.

“I used to think that the Zoe Hawn case was always so freaky, it’s one of the reasons I’m studying at the SRMA Facility, I want to be a part of something that’ll do some good. Crossbreeds, crosses, hybrids- Whatever they're called, I know for a fact that there are experiments still at the laboratory.”

Wendy crooked a brow. “How would you know that?”

“I’m an intern at the facility, I listen in on the scientists and doctors sometimes. There’s a floor that you have to have level five clearance to be on and I’ve peeked in a few times.” You remembered you had a medical and scientific savvy best friends who would never drop the conversation.

Wendy chimed in. “Yeah, I’ve never seen the patients in there, they say some of them look like everyday people, others -- not so much. I wonder if there are even patients in there, it might just be something else.”

“Interesting...” It had been some time since you left Taehyungs office and you rubbed the business card between your fingers, staring down at the numbers and restaurant name. “Pain Grillé...” You whispered the name to yourself, you had seen that place before, your co-workers often mentioned the fancy place—maybe going wouldn’t be so bad...

“What was that?” Wendy tilted her head, her honey blonde hair shifting on her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing...” Nothing you wanted to discuss with them.

Hoseok smirked. “What’s that in your hand? You’ve been staring at it every few minutes now, is it a love note from an admirer or something?” He teases, the blush on your cheeks and the knitting of your brows only made your reaction all the more amusing

“No, dummy.” You kicked his foot. “It’s not a love note. I was asked to lunch and the name of the restaurant is on this card.”

“So, why are you here?”

“Because I’m not going.” That card was dropped back into your purse, you regretted taking it out in the first place.

“Why not? Lunch at Pain Grille sounds great -- and expensive.” He wondered, what special person wanted to take you there?

“I just rather not, that’s all.” It’s time for a subject change, “I have to go, I’m dog walking all evening so...” You grabbed your notebook and put the rest of your things in your tote. “Bye guys.”

Mr. and Mrs. Lafonso asked you to walk and feed their Pomeranian while they’re out and that’s what you were doing. Dog walking on the side is way underrated, it was what you did when you first moved out here to earn some extra cash. It was sort of a depressing time in your life, you lived in a tiny hotel and worked in a diner until you could save enough to find your own place. Living on your own wasn’t easy at first—a young 18-year-old that was struggling to get by in the big city with a few hundred dollars or so and a heavy suitcase. You got offers from guys to be their sugar-babies and if you were honest, you considered it a few times, the check from your part-time jobs looked like chump change in comparison to the money those guys were offering you. You didn’t have much but you had dignity and morality, no amount of money could take that away. And that’s what kept you going, you knew you could to make it and you did, all by yourself.

“Ugh...” It was beginning to drizzle and you were about to walk down to get to the subway station but you stopped, Pain Grillé. Kim Taehyung could be seen through the window, sitting at the table alone as the swoon waiter brought him a glass of wine.

The grumble of your stomach indicated that it was a marvelous idea—darn your appetite. You turned around and strolled across the street to get to the restaurant, your actually about to do this. When you walked inside, the lump in your throat was stopping you from speaking to the hostess at the desk.

“Good afternoon ma’am, can I help you?” She was a sweet lady, beckoning you to come to her.

“Oh,” Clearing your throat, you smiled, “I’m meeting Kim Tae-”

“Oh, you’re her!” She sounded a bit flustered like she knew you were coming but forgot. “I’m so sorry ma’am, I’ll get you seated, right this way.” She grabbed a menu and urged you to follow.

Her?

“Mr. Kim said he was expecting a special guest, he told me to make sure I bring you over myself. I’m the owner, Audrey. He loves this place, comes here for all of his special lunch appointments.” Her jaw-length bob bounced as she walked you through the busy restaurant. When he looked up from his phone and saw you, one would think you two were pretty close because of his childishly wide smile. I knew she would come...

“Here you are! Your waiter will be over shortly. Enjoy!” With that, she was gone, and you both stood there.

“You came...” He beamed, still in awe that you took him up on his offer. You were about to speak as you reached to pull out your chair. “Yeah, I-”

“Wait, let me get that for you.” He rushed to the chair to pull it out for you.

“Thank you...” You shuffled the chair forward, now you were a few inches away from the pristine white tablecloth.

“No, thank you for joining me, for a moment there I thought you wouldn’t show up.” He took his wine glass, sipping it briefly. Unbeknownst to him, it was sheer coincidence that led you here.

“Oh? Well, here I am...” You scanned the menu slightly as you glanced up at him.

You don’t mind a little wine with your lunch, do you? They have wines that pair beautifully with every meal, I’ve tried the whole menu. I went with a Muscadet today, easy-drinking in my opinion.” He would have a knowledgeable understanding of wines, why wouldn’t he?

“I don’t mind, I enjoy a glass every so often.” Maybe a few times a month -- week.

The corner of his lips “So-”

“Good afternoon ma’am, can I get you started with something to drink?” The waiter asked and Taehyung glanced at him with an impatient glint, he was interrupting something.

“I’ll have a Mascoto please.” You thanked the waiter as he went off to get your sweet bubbly beverage. Day-drinking—I guess, when in Rome do as the Romans, you thought to yourself.

“Good choice.” He bit his lip, his tongue peeking out to run over his lips in a tantalizing way. Out of habit, he tapped his fingers on the table. “I admit that I’m probably coming on a bit strong, yeah?” You nodded. “I don’t mean to come after you, I genuinely just want to get to know you...”

He’s still on that. “Sir-”

“Taehyung...” He reminded you. “Call me Taehyung, please.” That smirk—God, why is he smirking at me like that?

“Taehyung,” You emphasized the call of his name, “I’m flattered but I’m no different from anybody else...” Thank goodness the waiter brought your wine to you, you needed it right about now. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who have extravagant lives they can tell you about over lunch, why me?” You scoffed bitterly. “It doesn’t add up to me-”

“I don’t want to know just any of those women, I want to know you.” He countered. “That whole ‘there’s nothing to know about me’ act, I just don’t believe it, everybody has a story.”

“I don’t.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you almost look believable when you lie?”

You choked mid-sip. “Excuse me?-”

“Are you two ready to order?”

He was starting to spite this waiter. “Uh, yes, I’ll have my usual, what about you, love?” He was looking at you.

Still taken aback by his statement, you ordered. “I’ll have the chicken marsala with a side salad, please.” He nodded, taking the menus away to leave you two alone. You glared at him. “Lie? What makes you think-” He cut you off.

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you close with your family?” That was a personal question that you weren’t expecting to have to answer today.

“You expect me to answer your questions after you called me a liar?” You scoffed. “I don’t think so...”

He sighed, not breaking eye contact in the slightest as he sipped his wine. “Is there anyone, anyone at all, a mother, sister, friend, anyone you’re really close with? Anyone you can share your heart with, talk about difficult things with. You seem like the loner type...”

“It doesn’t matter.” You quipped rather defensively. “I don’t really need anyone to talk to, I’m doing fine on my own. As far as my family goes, well, I’m not a representation of my family, I’m just me...”

“So you’re not close to your parents?” He tilted his head curiously. You gazed down at your silver fork, solemnly—you never talk about stuff like this.

“No...” You uttered lowly, not liking where he was going with the invasive questions. “They died when I was a newborn, I was adopted by my uncles family...”

“Oh...” He felt bad for asking now. “I’m sorry to hear that,” You flinched, he cupped the top of your hand with his own large one, a softness in his eyes, “I’m sure growing up was hard for you, yeah?...”

“I mean, you could say that...” Oddly, you let him keep his hand on your own but it didn’t last long. “Can we drop this subject, please? I really don’t like talking about it.” You slid your hand back, an awkward grin showing your discomfort.

“Of course, sorry,” He sounded flustered, “I didn’t mean to pry.” The waiter had come back and sat the food in front of you two, you both thanked him. It smelled divine and Taehyung had already dug into his meal. You stabbed the nicely sliced tomato, sticking it in your mouth slowly as you eyed him intently.

“Y’know...” He began.

You forgot that people actually talk to one another when they go out to eat, it’s been so long it seemed weird. You were just about ready to tape his mouth shut because of all of these questions weren’t allowing you to eat. The chicken on your fork would have to wait. “What?”

“I know this may be a little awkward since I’m your boss and all, but we’re both adults.” Awkward? That was an oversimplification.

He lowered his voice. “This morning, when you said you heard something,” He bit his lip, “I whispered something to myself...I said it so low, I could barely hear myself say it, but you did.” His gaze focused on you intensely. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, how could you have heard something that was as quiet as a thought?”

Fear. A blanket of utter terror wrapped around you as you struggled to gulp the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You choked, hands beginning to tremble when you pushed them in your lap.

“Are you sure? Because I think you do.” He was starting to rub you the wrong way.

You are eating lunch in a restaurant with a man that you work for and he sees no problem with it. Not only that, but you saw a few employees from the Heights office and they wouldn’t stop staring and whispering when they saw you. Free lunch at the expense of your antisocial way of life. Those workers knew your face now, what if this went bad? It would look bad on a new boss was seen with a lower level employee like you, what would they think? This is why you didn’t want to do this, this was a bad idea. Thoughts raced through your mind but the only one that you could grasp was the thought of him knowing—you wanted to throw up.

“Are you okay? Your face is flushed.” His eyes widened in concern.

“I- I’m fine, it’s just a little hot in here.” You fanned yourself lightly, reaching for the glass of wine and finishing it off but still feeling parched. Suddenly, a dull ache throbbed in your temples and your brows furrowed in discomfort.

“Excuse me,” he stopped a waiter, “can you bring me a glass of water please?”

“No, no, thank you for everything but I really have to go.” You were pushing yourself away from the table and in a matter of seconds, you were making your way through the restaurant and flying out the door. When you walked out of that place you felt like you could breathe. The gears were turning in your head, anxiety began to eat away at your bones and you couldn’t contain it anymore. Panting, you stood in the busy street, trying to gather yourself. You shook your head, your ears aching as if someone had set a firework off right next to you. Eager to get home, you got on the subway and held on to the safety bar. You felt hot, it as if everything was burning inside you. It scared you to death, people would try to get close, ask too many questions—

it made you sick to your stomach.

Home, that was your goal. When you got off the subway, you made your dog walking stops. Starting from the farthest apartment complex to your own. A pit bull, two chihuahua’s and a brown lab, it took about 2 hours. The Lafonso’s canceled last minute so you were thankful because nature decided that you deserved to suffer this evening. The rain was relentless. It was pouring down, your clothes were drenched, sticking to you in the worst way as you walked down the street, desperate to get home. No one offered to walk you under their umbrella, not that you would accept the offer anyway. A nice hot shower was all you wanted.

“Huh...” You sigh, dragging your soaked frame up the stairs. You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You dug into your pocket to take out you’re house key. “Where is that thing?-...”

Notice from the city — Sorry we missed you!

We missed you! You were not available when we came to introduce the new monthly policy. The SRMA monthly routine check on all citizens born between 1992 - 1998 who may have failed to submit their medical records or whose records may need verifying. Do not be alarmed, as a government, we want to ensure the health and safety of our people through all necessary methods. If you have any questions, contact us at 747-”

B.S.—You rip the bright orange paper off the door, crumbling it up into a ball, and throw it in the trash bin as you entered your home. It’s disgusting. The government has their sneaky ways of getting what they want, one way or another. Just as you do every night, you flipped the light switch to get some light in your dark little living room. You flicked it twice but there was no light—just your luck. The light bulbs are out. You toss your purse on the couch to go search for some extra light bulbs.

For some reason the light bulbs refused to be found, you checked under the kitchen sink, then the supply closet—I know I bought some.

“There we go.” On the very top shelf, the new pack of bulbs sat in the far corner. You had no clue why you put it there but you reached up on your tippy-toes and grabbed the pack.

Sighing, you untwisted the dead bulb from under lampshade and sat it on the coffee table. As you were about to screw in the new bulb, suddenly, you heard low footsteps in the hall and you tensed as the unknown person passed your door.

You absentmindedly screwed in the bulb. “Who in the- Agh!” A sharp burst of glass and light happened in your hands and scared the life out of you. The light bulb previously in your hand now exploded, the shards of glass missing your finger so by less than an inch.

You rush to your kitchen to get a broom and dustpan. “Cheap bulbs, what can you expect...” You cleared your throat, shuffling over to clean up the mess. When you glanced at your buzzing cellphone, you had easily predicted who it was on the other end. You picked it up and held it between your shoulder and ear. “Hi, Hoseok.”

“Hey, I was just calling to check on you. I saw you weren’t answering your texts so I got worried.”

Always so concerned for you, you were lucky to have at least one friend like him.

“Oh, I was really busy today, I didn’t even see your texts. Sorry about that.” You walked into the kitchen as Hoseok explained that he was just making sure you got home safely. He was also pretty curious about who went to lunch with today, you wouldn’t say. “Don’t worry about it Hoseok, it was just lunch and it’s not happening again. Now, I wish I didn’t have to run but I got caught in the rain and I need a shower-”

Footsteps. You heard footsteps in the hall again, and this time, they stopped right in front of your door.

“Y/n?”

“Wait one second...” You whispered, trying to stealthily tiptoe to the door but there was a knock. This time, you were sure it was probably Jan, it had to be...

“Hello?”

No, that’s a man's voice.

“Anyone home?”

Just as you were about to peek through the peep-hole, a paper began to slip through the crack of the door and fall to the floor in front of you. The person had quickly walked away after that and you bent down to inspect the paper.

“Y/n, is everything okay?”

You forgot Hoseok was still on the phone.

“Yeah...I’m good. Hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Night...” You hung up the phone, staring down at the paper.

You have failed to submit your birth records to the SRMA for the 4th year in a row. 5 years with unsubmitted records is considered a felony as of 2 months ago. You have one year to submit your records before you are put under high suspicion of the state. At the bottom of the paper, a printed signature was signed. Ordered by Senator Nelson Green.

“Ugh, not again...” You were about to crumble up the paper, but you paused. You don’t even know if your birth certificate is legitimate. You were adopted and for all you knew, your parents had altered the thing, it’s unlikely, but it’s still a possibility. You had never turned them in for the mere fact that it wasn’t against the law, it was just a strong and annoying suggestion. Until now.

“I’ve never met anyone like her before and I don’t want to let her slip through my fingers...” He was at his penthouse and his best friend, Jimin, was day house-sitting for him. Taehyung sat on the couch with his matching pajama set on and pillow snug in his grasp as the television served to fill in the silence gap.

“She must be gorgeous for you to be this messed up about her.” Jimin sat on the recliner with a bowl of ramen.

“I went to lunch with her today.”

“Oh? So you’ve already gone on a date?”

“Not exactly, my lunch appointment canceled so I asked her if she wanted to join me. She came but I really don’t think she wanted to be there. It may have to do with the fact that I’m kind of her boss...”

“She works for you?!” Jimin couldn’t hide his shock.

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t sound so surprised, she works in the customer service department downtown.”

“Woah, what does your dad think about you getting involved with an employee?”

“Who said anything about getting involved? I don’t think she likes me all that much, she’s kind of a closed book, doesn’t like to talk much. I just asked her to lunch, nothing more nothing less.” He knew it was far much more than that.

“But you want this to turn into something more, don’t you?” Jimin knew the answer. And so did Taehyung. But the thought of verbalizing his want for you made it less real, less tangible.

“Yes- No, I don’t know, I just want to get to know her, that’s all.” Taehyung laid on the arm of the couch, lost in his thoughts. There was no denying that you were hiding something from him, he knew that for a fact. But getting you to open up and be comfortable with him seemed to be the hardest part of all. Why was he so drawn to you? And why did you hide that you felt the same?

A few days later.

It’s a few days since your meeting with Taehyung and you were back to your normal life. Unfortunately, the news that you had gone out with the CEO for lunch was the subject of conversation for the cubicles not too far from you. None of them have dared to ask you about it, for reason that you weren’t quite sure of. You just knew that the only way you were going to get those girls to stop gossiping was to ignore them completely.

You had quite a few calls this morning, no more than usual on a busy day but they came in back to back. Most of them were calling in regards to the new camera that just came out. Some were complaints, others were genuinely curious questions. Your supervisor came out of his office and you watched him survey the room until his eyes landed on you.

“Y/n, come to my office please.” He walks back to his office, urging you to follow.

You swallowed, putting the phone back on the hook and walking to his office. Honestly, you couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been doing a great job, so don’t think I called you in here because you’re in trouble.” Those words soothed your weary expression. “I was asked by Mr. Kim, to give you this envelope this morning.” He reached into his desk to pull out a white envelope. “Here you go.”

“Oh, thank you.” You took the envelope and walked back to your cubicle. In the solitude of your little space, you opened up the envelope.

__, You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just call or text you. I wanted to know if you could meet me at the club we talked at the other night, I have something really important to talk to you about, please come.

Love, Kim Taehyung.

“Huh...”

“What’s that?” Your coworker in the cubicle across from you noticed the envelope in your hands.

“Oh, nothing, just some notice from HQ or something...” You opened up your desk and shoved it in your drawer. She didn’t look too convinced but she left the subject alone for the most part.

You laid on your bed, pen in your hand, notebook in your lap, and earbuds snug in your ears. Excessive studying had begun to bore you. You decided to set the book down and scroll through your phone absentmindedly.

I had a great time Suzette

You froze, eyes widening in suspicion. You sat up, seeing if someone had opened your room door or something. Where did that come from? It sounded oddly like her uncle's voice.

The kids are home, my mom and niece are taking care of them, but my wife doesn’t get off until 7 today

You were sure that was him now. You weren’t sure where it was coming from especially since you had your music on full blast. But when you took the earphones, you could hear the conversation amplified. Quietly, you sneaked up to your window on your hands and knees, pushing hair away from your face. To your distaste, you saw your uncle, leaning into the window of some woman's car—for your aunt's sake, you hoped that woman was just a friend.

I’ll see you on Friday, bring your swimsuit

He kissed her cheek—ok so they’re definitely more than friends. To ensure that he didn’t see you, you scurried away from the window and ran downstairs to help your grandma with dinner. After you washed up, you began to cut the vegetables for the salad as Daisy, the toddler of the bunch, played in the living room with her older brother.

“Hey guys, I’m home.”

The little kids, all 4 of them ran up to greet their dad, you merely waved. Little did they know, their daddy wasn’t the superhero of a man he portrayed himself to be.

“Food smells good mom.” He walked into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to drink as he always did.

“Thanks, son, it’s your favorite, stewed chicken and rice.” She smiled as he pecked her cheek. Now it was time to greet the only teenager in the house.

“How was school, __?”

“It was school, nothing special.” You mumbled, cutting the tomato with one of your earbuds still in.

“Oh, well, just so you all know, I have to go out of town on-”

“Friday?” You suddenly blurted out, earning you an odd look from him.

“Yeah, how did you know?” He furrowed his brow in suspicion.

Save yourself Y/n. “Um, just a guess.” He looked like he thought nothing of it and went back to the conversation. It took everything in you not to say what you saw, what you heard. It burned at the tip of your tongue.

After dinner.

You stood in front of the sink, washing dishes like you always did after dinner. Even though you all had a dishwasher, grandma always insisted that you wash them by hand. It was annoying but you did it.

“Hey, your aunt wanted to know if you’ll take Josie to elementary school tomorrow, she’s gotta go in early.” Uncle walked into the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in hand.

“Sure, I guess I’ll skip class.” You muttered, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

“Well, you shouldn’t skip class-”

“It’s not a big deal, I was gonna skip anyway.” You cut him off. You two had always had this tense relationship. He would say something, you’d saying something back, he’d get offended, the usual argument followed suit. You remember his rage when he saw you got a nose piercing, it was fake and so you felt no need not to wear it. It’s your nose after all.

“Oh.” He stood there for a little while, reading over some bills and such.

“So, you’re going out of town...” You thought you’d be the one to bring it up.

“Yep.”

“Somewhere sunny, I’m guessing?”

You furrowed his brows, wondering why you’d say that. “Um, sure, I guess.”

“Why don’t you bring your wife with you? She hasn’t had a vacation in a while.”

“Because it’s work.”

“Or is it because Suzette will be there?” You had stopped washing dishes now.

“Suzette?” His brows knitted further. “How do you know Suzette? I’ve never mentioned her before.” Now he was suspicious.

You sighed, biting your lip anxiously. “You’re making a mistake, ok. You have a wife and kids, your family is worth more than some lady.”

“__, are you hearing yourself? Suzette is a co-worker and we happen to work in the same city this weekend.”

“And you guys plan to do some fucking swimming while you’re there?” You spat, raising your voice a bit through clenched teeth. “Yeah, that sounds like tiresome, boring work.”

He tensed—there is no way you should have heard him, that wasn’t possible

“You need to think before you speak __, you could get yourself in a lot of trouble. How the hell did you even hear that? Did you wire my bag or something? Where are you getting all of this?-”

“Look, I know what I heard.” You stormed away, trying to get away from him but he grabbed your wrist. “What.” You hissed.

“What are you up to, little girl? Do you think this is funny or something? You storm around me like some ungrateful bitch and I put up with it since the day you got here. I won’t be disrespected in my own home.”

“Let go of my arm.” You tried to pull away but he was relentless.

He gripped you harder. “I’m only gonna say this once, stay out of my business __, I mean it.”

The threat only made you spite him more. You felt anger and fear begin to bubble in your chest as he eyed you like a hawk. How dare he even insinuate that you were ridiculous when you saw with your own eyes what he was doing. You stared at him with a blank expression, your knuckles turning white as you clenched your fists impossibly tight. “L-let go.”

“Did you hear what I just-” He paused. A white heat began to incase his entire body, his hands trembled as a high-pitched ringing started to torture his senses, he stepped back. “What the hell?”

You got away and ran upstairs.

“__! I’m not done talking to you young lady-”

“Leave me alone!”

You gritted your teeth, trying to conceal your voice. You closed your door, locking it and jumping to lay on your bed. It was hard not to hate his guts sometimes, he was so annoying sometimes. You wondered what your real dad would have been like...

You heard a knock on the door but you willed yourself to ignore the sounds.

The door creaked as he opened it. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Hello there, I know it’s late but my name is agent Susan Black, I’m with the Scientific Research and Medical Advancements recovery efforts. I’m here to get records for the people living in your home for safety, it’s protocol. We’ve been made aware that you’ve been avoiding our calls and emails for you to turn in all the residents of this home's birth records.” She smiled, he knew this would catch up with him. “You’re making us really suspicious Mr. Kang.”

He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I’ll make sure that happens in the next week, but now isn’t the best time.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do it now sir, just before the end of the year. Goodnight sir- Oh, and don't forget, it’s for the safety of society.”

“Dr. Kim, what do you think about The 1989 Project, I know you used to work here back then?”

One of the resident doctors stopped by Dr. Kim’s office to hand off some papers. “I know a lot of the rumors are true, and that even you worked with Zoe Akasma Hawn to get her back to health.”

The older man sighed, thinking of the horrible state of that girl. “I don’t have a lot to say about it.”

“Oh, come on Doctor, I know you must think something of it.” He pried.

“I just hope the surviving participants get the help that they need, that’s all.” His answer is wholesome, not one you can really argue.

“You can’t possibly think that those experiments have a chance of molding into society, do you?”

“You never know.” That’s all he had to say before resuming his papers. His phone rang suddenly.

“Hello?”

“Hey dad, I can’t come by this evening, I have a thing.” Taehyung never missed coming to see his dad, so whatever it was, it must be important. “Sorry.”

“This thing must be important, huh?” He smiled through the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll see you. Love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.”

Taehyung tucked his phone into his pocket and got out of the car, hoping he wouldn’t be waiting here all night. It was sunset, he entered the club and found a seat near the band and waited, anxiously. The tingling in his chest reminded him how nervous he was, what if you decided not to show up? That wouldn’t be a surprise given the feelings you have towards him—if you could call those feelings. When you ran out of the restaurant the other day, he had never felt so out of place in his life. He did put you on the spot when he asked about your family and you did not react well. But in his defense, he didn’t know it was a touchy subject.

“Can I get you anything?” A young waitress, who looked rather swoon by his appearance walked up to him.

“Not now, I’m waiting for someone.” Her expression saddened when she connected the dots. He wasn’t alone this evening and she could forget about hitting it big with a guy like him.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into an hour and a half. He had finally settled for ordering tea and leaving, but then you were walking in through the front door—you were wearing a black t-shirt, sneakers, and jeans. Your hair laid close on your shoulders as your eyes scanned the room for him. Before he could beckon you over, your eyes found him and you were walking towards him. With a breathless huff, you sat in the chair across from him, the air around you immediately took effect on him. His chest started to tingle but he managed to push the excitement down.

“So,” You exhaled, “what’s so important?” Your voice was soft, low, kind despite its cutting edges in tone.

“I...” He scrambled for his reasoning for calling you. “I called the office for you yesterday, but they said you weren’t there.”

“I had a few things I had to take care of, is that why you called me here?...” If that was the reason, you were sure he was taking this interest in you too far. “To see why I wasn’t at work? I asked my manager if it was ok-”

“No, that’s not why. I-...” He tapped absentmindedly on his ceramic cup, attempting to compile a coherent sentence. “Um...”

“Taehyung,” You cut him off, your patience running thin. “I really don’t have all night, I walked here from the subway station 15 minutes from here and I need to get back home...”

“The government contacted the company. They’ve been looking to see if any of my employees are affiliated with Jane Sato or know anything about The 1989 Project. I’ve heard that you’re one of the few people that haven’t been officially cleared by the SRMA recently.” He cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about it?”

“No, not a thing...” You deadpanned, eyes going between your hands and the live band in the background. You were starting to get that feeling again, the same feeling you felt the night you saw him, the icy burn at the tip of your fingers, and the pit of your stomach.

“And honestly, I don’t believe in that stuff. The whole Zoe Hawn case seemed like the government had too much to do with it. Put a feral looking failed experiment on the TV and everyone wants to get tested, it’s a hoax. Those hybrids, experiments- Whatever they're called, they have nothing to do with me. I don’t want to have anything to do with them either.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “So, does this not look familiar to you?” You reached for it, fingers grazing it lightly before you gradually opened it up. A photo—a photo of a bunch of doctors and scientists, you weren’t sure. Your eyes scanned the individuals in the picture and you frowned.

Your gaze turned cold. “Where did you get this...”

“These are the doctors and scientist involved in the 1989 project, I got it from a physician I know. He thought I should show it to some of my employees. Do any of them look familiar?” He tilted his head, doe eyes too round and distracting for you at the moment.

You gulped. “No.”

He moved to grasp the photo. “I just thought you might’ve-...”

“I don’t know who any of those people are.”

A spark ignited from the tip of your fingers.

When your hands touched, it was as if a white light engulfed his vision and an achingly loud thump reverberated in your ears, you yanked your hand away instantly. There was no denying that you felt something and you didn’t like it. He stared up at you, lips parted in shock as you mirrored his expression but in a rigid manner. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, probably drawing blood, and for the second time around him, your anxiety decided to devour you from the inside out.

“I-...I’m leaving.” You abruptly pushed away from the table and stormed out of the club, photo in hand.

“Hey! Wait!” He ran behind you, trying not to lose you since you were already halfway down the sidewalk. You retained a steady pace of running but you could tell he was hot on your trail, you could run down to the subway and try to lose him there but you hated getting on the subway at this hour.

You swiftly shoved the photo in your pocket and bolted down the alleyway. For a moment, you paused so you could catch your breath, leaning back against the rough brick walls and letting your eyelids flutter closed. Why is this happening to me and why now? You managed to calm yourself from the constant pound of your heartbeat. When you heard panting, you slowly opened your eyes.

He caged you, his eyes boring into your soul.

Your eyes widened, jumping back to run away but he seized your wrists. “Leave me alone!”

“Why did you run?!” He seethed, trying to stay calm. “Calm down, shh!” The words leaving his throat like a suppressed cough. You pushed at his chest, trying not to look him in the eye. “Stop trying to run away! Listen to me, please.” It was a firm plea, one you had never heard from anyone before. “If you’d just let me explain-”

You weren’t having it.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?!” You jerked away, getting away from the wall so you could make a run for it but you felt a sharp pain in your head. You hunched over, clutching your forehead in your hands. “Ah...” You winced, your breathing unsteady and your stance shaky. The throbbing had increased and your vision was beginning to get blurry.

Taehyung reached out to you, his hand gripping your arms. “Y/n, stop fighting it...”

“Get the hell away from me!-“ You were pulling away, hitting, clawing at his arms and everything to get him to let you go. Despite your resistance, he wrapped his arms around you, his body being so close had made your pulse skyrocket. This was too much, it physically, emotionally, mentally, pained you the more you tried to getaway.

“Please, don’t fight me-” He tried to speak calmly but it was hard when you insisted on thrashing about. “S-stop fighting me, I’m not gonna hurt you, you can trust me,” His heart sank when he saw that look in your eyes, the look of an innocent creature in pain—you were scared. “We’re the same.”

“N-no, leave me alone,” Your stance wavered and you fell silent, tears building at your eyes. You were on the verge of sobbing. “Just leave me alone, I can’t be around you...”

There was so much energy emanating around you, through your bones. You could feel everything—you could hear everything. The buzz of street lights, bickering old couples on the top floor of this old apartment, honking horns of impatient drivers, a sobbing teen curled up on a cold tile floor. It was as if all living things were coursing through you—a razor-sharp current of light and darkness stabbing you from the inside out.

The sound of something cracking, the sound so unbearably familiar that he found it difficult to physically control himself.

“Y/n, don’t fight it...it’s okay...” His hands clung to your lower back and the back of your neck, keeping you anchored against him, your hands still pushing him away. His lips parted, a shaky breath leaving his mouth when you tensed.

“I know...I feel it too.”

Absolute darkness, dull obscurations ravaged your sight and you fell limp—you blacked out.

#bts au #bts mutant au #bts hybrid au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #Taehyung smut #taehyung hybrid #taehyung mutation #taehyung mutant au #bts #color me moonight #id love to hear your feedback! it means the world to me :)#goodnight 🌙🌙#bts scifi au

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sugar-petals · 6 years

Text

; electric lovers [m] — part 1

An epidemic breaks out. The world is plunged into chaos. One giant corporation seizes its chance and puts you into quarantine, promising to heal the symptoms you begin to show. Just before you agree to undergo the crucial surgery, an android named Taehyung reveals the truth about the illness to you. A truth that makes you want to escape with him.

pairings: tae x reader ft. yoongi & jk

genre: dystopian au | sci-fi, smut (poly), action, angst

words: 4.1k

warnings ⚠️ torture, mentions of vomit, abduction, nobody dies, it’s just a glorious foursome wait for it, swearing

a/n: This one’s heavy on the worldbuilding. If something is unclear at first, stick around, terms explain themselves in the course of the plot 👍 [edit btw: this was written two years before the pandemic, it doesn’t have anything to do with corona.]

“Unit A. The virus will break down your body in the next two cycles.

Three at best. We can still transfer you past the Source Gate. But if you survive, you must stay there.”

“I can’t come back?”

“You can’t.”

“What are the odds, officer?”

“Six out of ten. It’s up to you.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“Unit T will arrive to pick you up after the first term.”

Half a mile away in a sterile cubicle sits the officer who presses a button. The speaker ceases to drone above your head. Click. End of conversation. Eventually, the glass cage no longer vibrates from the noise.

You’re here in confines. Hanging from the ceiling at a 45 feet chain. The itch of your skin is unbearable by now, but there’s no way to reach it. Two androids clad in layers of protective silver came to strap your hands to either side of the glass box, loose enough to reach for food but tight enough not to do any scratching. That was about seven cycles ago.

The glass is carbon-enforced, unbreakable no matter how hard you would pull. All cameras would alert the doctors anyways. You tried it once — and never again.

The only thing they said would be an option was anesthesia using radioactive exposure. Prolonged, not just a cycle or two. The sole method able to work at the distance your illness required at this stage. That’s why they put you in the air where vertigo, claustrophobia, and buckets full of vomit became the daily business.

You could be glad that there was an oxygen pipe attached just above you, and a stack of artificial bread in the corner. It’s already dry to chew on. But at least the air is not stuffy.

Around the second term before sleeping, you got an announcement and then a gush of fresh water through the pipe right behind the oxygen supply. Now the clock outside the cage indicates the end of term five. It used to be time for rest during the last cycles you spent in the facility. Lights out. But today, you will exit the Cryptodome headquarters at last.

And see Unit T to take you to the Gate.

The officer did not reveal that this would be your last cycle in the cage until this very moment.

They did not tell you that the chain could move so fast either. It rattles first, shaking the cage from its usual dangles into a state of jolting, leaving all the bread scattered. You didn’t manage to shove it back into its box earlier. All pipes for oxygen, water, food, and waste disengage from the outside.

The clock snares to display the first term. Downward goes the cage. All the way into the dark tunnel you dreaded falling into since you woke up in these six transparent walls. For now, you are glad to hold onto the straps through this turbulence. The dome is large, and you’re its tiny pendulum.

All darkness lasts only a few heartbeats until the familiar glare of neon surrounds the cage. The adjacent streets appear as empty to your sensitive eyes. Seoul hasn’t changed. Both of the straps drop away when the entire construct touches the ground. Something unlocks.

The languid glass opens on the left side. You stuff some bread into your pockets, feeling the ache of both wrists hinder you. The fresh air does not soothe the itch of your skin as you had hoped. Neither does the taunting daylight that permeates the cage. But before you can get out to scratch, the boom of an ion engine disturbs the scene.

You already knew the establishment was maximum security. But this vehicle makes you forget all glass cage fusses, blaring clocks, all steel doors. What rolls around the corner is almost a tank. Well, almost. This is the Age of Cerium, with continents no longer being haunted by men’s wars. It’s just the virus that’s causing problems here up north.

So the behemoth that stops close before the cage is not a battle machine per se. The plates encapsulating the front like shields appear fairly luminous, in fact. The entire machine produces an uproar even when standing. Wheels emit blinding lights. They somewhat match the bleeding red neon of the Cryptodome. You’ve heard of what this is.

It’s a black Voltage 6 model, made by Watt Enterprises. Used to transport prisoners in the Wire Boroughs where everyone calls it Volt for short. Even if the itching numbs most memory, you recall the small distillery there. Beloved Boroughs. But it feels frugal compared to who exits the vehicle.

Unit T, sent from the Hills. Designed to perfection. Immune, platinum cumulation of all beauty. No feature is disparate in his symmetry. An android constructed to last forever in his flaxen technological glory. The daylight renders him the brightest thing you’ve seen in the last terms since they brought you here. The way he moves, smooth and without seeming error.

You’re just a human with two cycles left, taken from a home far away. Stuck in filthy medical clothing that closely resembles jail attire. A descendant of the Creator, but long surpassed and orphaned. Not a match for this Unit. Merely a patient. Barely living.

The more you gaze at him, the more unimportant your fate is, but there’s a realization. You could have never reached this status and roamed free. That becomes more and more lucid with every breath. But there’s no time to think about it further.

He already steps closer on light feet, hands opening to greet.

The alloy of gold rotates clockwise in his eyes. And then, he speaks with subtle metallic depth.

“I’m Unit T. But I prefer Taehyung when I drive a patient.”

“Unit A. Thank you for the convoy.”

“You’ll be there in no time. Let’s go.”

He smiles, disclosing a uniform row of teeth that’s fortified with carbon. The backdoor pops open at the click of his tongue.

You expected an automatized version of an officer. But Taehyung sounds friendly. He makes it sound too easy. But you have to get to the Source Gate.

At a beckon, you follow his steps inside the Volt with no words.

Right away, you tip over a box of paraphernalia. There are old conductors and plugs inside. Sparking, blade, and bridging plugs, it seems.

A vintage item.

In about the most advanced convoy vehicle on the market. Taehyung bends to sort back the mess fast with magnetic fingertips.

“Your new life has even more cables than that if you make it.”

He guides you to the front seat behind a giant instrument board, then puts the box aside. The automatic belt clicks into its place above your thighs, also locking your hands tight at hip level.

“I collect these,” says Taehyung with a hint of nostalgia when he enables a blue starter to set off. The instrument board responds glowing. “Do you want to drink a bit?”

You’re nodding.

He guides a bottle to your mouth. It seems to resemble what you’ve seen in an Age of Iridium museum isle. The bottle is filled with a plain oxidized emulsion that tastes like nothing. The material feels really odd at your lips, too. It’s really not an object out of this decade. You keep on taking sips, careful not to irritate your sore throat again.

So there he is, next to you. Making your drink at least something better than they supplied the cage with.

A handsome T Unit with a retro schtick.

Maybe a distraction from the itch, if that is possible at this point. Most of the pain centers at your neck and thighs already and won’t move. It keeps on seeping in deeper like acid.

Taehyung screws the bottle shut again after half of it is empty.

“You want to be close to humankind? No other robot would collect this.”

“I associate with them often. It does rub off. I get patients every fourteen cycles or so.”

“The name?”

“Yes. That, too. ‘Taehyung’ was given to me like a title. From a human who had the dermal virus for terms on end. Excruciating. Jeon Jungkook. His infection was one of a kind, needed special treatment.”

“Did he make it?”

“Yes. He found happiness past the Gate. The transformation went well, I heard.”

“What category does he belong to now?”

“Cyborg Category H. Health sector. What will you choose?”

Taehyung first attends to the screen in front of him to tap several yellow fields, then opens his belt to stand up.

“I apply for Category C,” you nod back feeling your own belt retract. The Volt is synced with the lane and at maximum speed. Taehyung doesn’t have to steer anymore.

“Chemistry! I knew you were the type. This will work out, let’s go have a seat. I prepared something. We have a few terms to relax now.”

The back of the vehicle is plain, only adorned with another vintage item that Taehyung brought with him. It’s a green jukebox. A better surprise than the twenty cameras in the dome who got just about every angle of you.

He feeds it a coin to cue a tune you’ve never heard before. They didn’t show audio samples at the museum. Maybe it’s what they called ‘pop’. You sit down on one of the hovering seats feeling like your skin could fall off any second. Keep it together. Just a bit longer. This will work out.

“I’m Robot Category R,” Taehyung pours you something else now from a vitamin carafe. “I do healing as well, which is why I’m here.”

No surprise he makes an impression of leisure. Category R, that’s recreation. Might as well enjoy while it lasts. Your glass fills to the brim.

You’re just a moribund resource anyways. Either decomposing in a ditch, maybe down in some mass grave before the Gate in one cycle. Or paralyzed through surgery from the rib cage downward and altered to live as a machine.

Taehyung smiles. You accept the liquid and chug down the majority of it. After two blinks or so, a feeling of ease tamps down on your back and legs.

“It suppresses the symptoms for as long as it’s going through your body,” he stores back the carafe, then goes to the jukebox with another coin. It plays something upbeat. Outside, the first trees from the Light Forest come into sight. It’s the only glimpse of nature so far. You try to scratch off the last pains from your forearms, but Taehyung comes to hold you by the hands.

“Hey. Don’t do that. You can’t show up at the Source Gate in bruises and scabs. The transformation requires your skin to be intact.”

Before you can answer, a speaker reverberates from the instrument panel.

“The patrol needs confirmation,” Taehyung slips away to operate the screen again.

“Unit T? How is the patient, everything on schedule?” an officer’s voice cracks from the speaker.

“Code eight, everything on schedule.”

“Next patrol will conduct a physical check. Thank you.”

The speaker falls silent, all colors fade from the screen. So that was meant by confirmation. And you learned more than that. All of this has a more intricate plan than it seems. Including a physical check. That patrol guard can choke in a puddle of your vomit.

Taehyung returns appeasing you with another pour from the vitamin carafe. He swiped his hair back while fumbling with the screen. It’s not that he doesn’t feel your frustration, too. The anxiety. But worrying is not an android’s job.

“It’s probably another Category R Unit who will make a brief examination there. There’s no pain involved. And I won’t leave you.”

He does sound hopeful. The pop jukebox keeps on jingling, uncaring of the looming future behind his words. At some point, he will leave. The transformation process didn’t sound particularly convenient either in the words of the officer.

But that’s how the world always works. Only lesser evils. No salvation. But that doesn’t mean you can’t and won’t pull through. If there are more cycles behind the Gate for you to live, then you will experience them for the sake of your mother’s wish alone.

Once the vitamin liquid starts to runs out, it seems that your skin has calmed down. The sting alleviates, at least around the neck. You feel elated enough to be sarcastic.

“Those are the last days and I’m drinking juice,“ you raise the liquid anew with a laugh. “So, cheers!”

Down with the last milliliters. Seoul can kiss your ass. There’s another chance at life out there.

Taehyung’s eyes flicker.

He starts to spill syllables, lower lip loose. You set aside the empty glass. It’s something you’ve never heard. But he keeps on repeating them.

“Ke— hwa— xi— zhi—”

The metallic sound of his voice goes into a crescendo.

“Taehyung!”

“Zha— geo— bhe— itda—”

The light of his body shuts down at the words, then flares up in a split second. He falls backward, scattering plugs. Shit.

The jukebox runs out of music.

You go to grab him by the shoulders. No reaction. Then, his complexion contorts two times before going back to normal. One blink. Two blinks. Taehyung rises at the aid of your arms. He’s exasperated now. All former smiles are gone.

“You, you said the reset password!”

“What?”

“These are the last days! You said the words that reset the Code 8 programme,” he trembles back to full posture. “We have to get out of here, Unit A. They made the virus themselves to capture patients. Past the Gate... the transformation will make you their slave. I am, too.”

“It was a lie?”

“They need people to create the cyborgs. The quarantine was a smokescreen, but they needed it. That’s why your symptoms came out of nowhere and they arrived at your home fast to cage you. To monitor if you’re suitable—”

“So they kidnapped me!”

“They did something similar to engage me here. But cyborg soldiers did it. For my own good, the safety of the people like they told you, too.”

“Where do we go? The patrol comes up in four terms, and the Gate...!”

“I will steer towards the Light Forest,” Taehyung operates the screen to desync from the road. “The frequency is too high to detect the Voltage.”

In the back, plugs keep scattering at the turn. The war was never over. The Source has a reason why it’s called that way. It’s a source for more soldiers. Cyborg Categories A-Z are nothing but special forces.

And one of them appears to have spotted you. Shots start to drum against the Volt from the outside. The patrol must have changed its guard point, there’s no other explanation. The plate shields barely pose any resistance to the perforating blows. And they seem to have no end. The Volt 6 refuses to let Taehyung open the weapon section on the screen.

That’s what happens when you don’t stop for a physical check.

You do keep driving, but Taehyung has problems steering and shutting the ion frequency off.

“They gave me the vehicle just this morning, I have no access to the databank help without Code 8 either!” he fumbles at the buttons hesitating to push any of them. You gaze across the board trying to keep your mind straight.

The distillery. An image you will never forget. Those were the early days in the debauched and smog-ridden Borough. The other kids ridiculed how you spend more time with machines than people. But now they wouldn’t. You know that it’s always the green button for power down.

The screen is not responsive to your touch, so you show Taehyung where to push. The Volt turns more with an ache through its shields, then clatters into the brightness of the Light Forest entrance at the left side of the road.

Something strikes the trunk, hard. And stops you after passing the first neon trees. It’s not too late to exit the damaged car and run. The Light Forest is even more blinding to your eyes, but following Taehyung’s platinum shine helps you stay on track. After a few meters and adjusting to the neon trees, you dare to gaze back to whatever attacked you.

It’s a Cyborg soldier.

Dark-haired, stalwart in posture. Entirely covered with a large chrome armor unlike the soft aluminum of Taehyung’s surface. His ammunition appears to be used up, so he proceeds with an ion spear behind you. More light trees pass, you’re just slower on foot. It’s agonizing.

Too many cycles have weakened your legs in the cage, alongside with the pain. Each step is torture relived. The soldier is faster, barking at you once the bolts of his spear could reach both of you.

“Units, stop on the spot!”

And Taehyung does so. You stumble toward him, land in the dirt of the forest. Crumbs spread everywhere when bread falls out of your pockets.

The soldier closes the distance with mechanic steps. His eyes are dead.

Taehyung scrambles to look at him and seems to notice something. Then you understand.

“It’s him, Jungkook!” he cries, “Jungkook! It’s me, Taehyung! Unit T!”

The soldier doesn’t change his pace. He marches forward staring with the spear in a horizontal position. He took down the Volt with it. This is the Cryptodome’s most powerful firearm, you’ve seen the officers wield it. He activates it by a small turn at the top part, making it gleam in white. The forest air becomes charged.

You shout.

“These are, these are the last days—”

And he collapses with a large clattering noise. The air loses its charge. You both scurry to check up on him.

Unconscious. His armor deflates back to normal mode.

Taehyung holds his face.

“Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!”

The soldier begins to reboot for moments with his body jerking, then regaining a different sense. He sits up, eyes softening. He’s smaller than you thought up close.

“What, Tae what is this,” he turns, then blinks at Taehyung. It’s not the soldier anymore.

You shrink his ion spear and deposit the remaining hand-sized bit in your soiled jacket. Watt Enterprises did a whack job building a sturdy model 6, but this arm would’ve killed you in five seconds.

Meanwhile, Taehyung updates Jungkook on the recent course of events. Before they get too agitated, you remind Taeyhung that they cannot linger for too long.

You both drag Jungkook to the withered patrol station across the lane. It’s fully equipped, but there’s nobody else. Taehyung attends to Jungkook in the back of the grey Volt 4 parked at the ion watchtower.

After Jungkook gives you a tablet of descriptions, you’ve got somewhat of a grasp on the screen and get the vehicle going without a Code. Blue starter, same operating system. Syncing: disabled. Taehyung says he knows a contact person to go to.

The Volt 4 passes his discarded twin at the forest, then speeds toward the Light Ally going in the opposite direction. The Volt 6 will be a good false trail. Maybe the first patrol is already on their way since Jungkook did not do a confirmation to send to the headquarters.

“My skin will act up soon,” you glance back at Taehyung, “is their virus actually fatal or just a hoax like the caging?”

“It is fatal,” Taehyung says, husky now. “But maybe Jungkook can help. It’s the best coincidence we met.”

“I’ll try. They did educate me in health for the first 300 terms. Then it changed when I thought I was safe.”

“They used the same programme on me. Can you help her? Category H has the special compound built in.”

“If my teeth are still intact after the password shutdown, I try.”

“Teeth?”

“Like this, I need to open the artery,” Jungkook bites down on his right forearm to crack the skin, revealing an artificial surface. You understand. At a second bite, it ruptures to let out a secretion. “Quick, try to gather as much as possible.”

Taehyung takes the driver’s seat now, steering the Volt through the darkening lane. It’s going back to the Hills.

Jungkook’s forearm is sturdy and pulsates loud against your tongue while drinking. It’s hard to take it all in because it comes out in silver gushes. You lap it up, suck, gather more. It resembles the vitamin liquid, but its consistency is much oilier.

More and more squirts out to swallow, and Jungkook grits his teeth. He taps the nape of your neck when the oil runs out with less pressure.

“It should be enough,” he ionizes the spot after you retreat, closing the material. “It will soak up and neutralize the virus for the most part. If Taehyung gave you vitamins beforehand, it’ll use that up, too. It actually helps as a catalyst. Your digestive system will stay still for a dozen terms.”

It already kind of does because of the bread diet you had to put up with in the Cryptodome. But your skin is a lot calmer at least, just tingling. Much like the aftertaste that is slightly bitter, but Jungkook’s beaming nod at you does ease it.

Just a last step is left, he says. The contact person has the necessary tools to complete the healing process. You still feel like throwing up, but most of the thigh pain is gone.

The special compound, you figure, is a less dangerous derivate of Cerium. It’s something that the surgeons behind the gate would have injected your body with as well, it’s just that Category C is generally stocked up with more chemicals than just that. Probably not for scientific, but military purposes after the 300 terms of deception are over.

“How long does it take for you to regenerate it? I’m sorry for taking so much.”

“Half a term, it’s nothing. You said the password, I couldn’t thank you more.”

“And you brought us together,” Taehyung soothes from the driver’s seat. “Jungkook and I. We have a lot of history. But that’s for later. He needs a bit of silence now, I think. Push the armrests down.”

“Oh. Of course. Here,” you set up your chair, making it whirr and fold out for Jungkook to lie down on it. Another shivering reboot begins. The Cerium rebuilds with a chortle from his shoulders where the main reservoirs seem to be.

Jungkook whispers another thank you when your fingers intertwine with his. They’re cold but tender. Taehyung comforts that his reboots won’t take too long, Cerium and its derivates build with ease.

He then begins to activate the speaker for a conversation half of which you don’t understand. You suspect he’s using a coded language.

The Hills are nothing like you imagined them to be. A broad, vaulted landscape glimmers with a platinum surface, harboring upper- and underground homes everywhere.

It takes fairly long to get to your destination. The Volt passes everything convex and concave until the outskirts come into sight. They’re beautiful to look at with their iridescent emerald lanes. You see the Gate towering in the far nebulous background, perhaps seeming closer than it is. Even the Cryptodome cannot compare with its height. You tell Taehyung it was a good idea to come here.

The headquarters would rather search the Wire Borough, the entire Light Forest, and all mountains than the last corner of the area closest to the Gate. Taehyung’s own home in the Hills is long vacant. The officers had accommodated him close to the cubicles. He hasn’t seen the outskirts for so many cycles, he lost count. But the destination Hill marked with number 968 he does find.

You park the Volt underground in a large garage filled with quizzical items. A broken oriental lamp, a globe, sculptures, tainted mirrors. Taehyung negates that they are from his collection. The contact person is even older than him, he says, with the same penchant for dated objects.

Jungkook deactivates the ion engine completely not to send any signals or frequencies, then leaves the garage with the two of you. The Hills are vibrant in the sunlight now.

A delicate silhouette shuffles out of the Hill’s vault. Black loose attire, black hair, and sandals that might as well have AGE OF IRIDIUM FAN CLUB written all over them. Another vintage nerd. It’s no surprise.

He nods at the sight of Taehyung’s bright grin and countless greeting phrases. Then comes toward you lopsided, dragging one leg after him. His voice is deep, sounding drudged when he addresses you.

“Clone, generation M. I worked as an undercover officer 1800 cycles ago, with Taehyung. We communicated through Code 1 earlier.”

Taehyung protests.

“Hey, you’re just Yoongi to us!”

“I didn’t forget,” the man hums, then turns to you again. “And your Unit is?”

“That’s, well. Unit A.”

Silence.

Yoongi’s jaw drops.

“Unit A!?”

——————————————————

Part 2 linked in mlist.

Do not repost and/or translate.

Last commentary: This is intended to be the sci-fi counterpart of Jungkook in Sublime [M] where I wrote about government persecution as well, just in a fantasy context. Taehyung and Yoongi appear as side characters there, too. The plots are not related; you can read them as separate stories. There are just many parallel elements. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment!

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petrichorjkk · 2 years

Text

My works:

Not even in the darkest night:

In a world of hybrids and humans mixed together, Jungkook lives in a small town where he's the only hybrid. What will happen when he goes to meet his online best friend for the first time in Seoul?

The seaside meets the field grass:

Jeongguk lacks what others thinks is the most important sense for a wolf: smelling. When loneliness start digging too deep, he decides to seek comfort from an alpha scenting and cuddle expert. But things change as soon as he sees Jimin, the expert, standing in front of his door.

Can the loneliness bring Jeongguk some happiness?

Project J1913:

In a future where robots are the normality, Jimin challenges himself and his creation with the implanting of the soul that would make his robot as close to an human as humanely possible. Will Jimin succeed in his intention? And if yes, will it be worth it?

One in a million:

Jimin and Jeongguk are together from years and Jimin's family along with their group of friends are waiting for them to marry. Thing is, Jimin has to turn Jeongguk into a vampire to follow the vampires tradition and he's not sure he can do it.

Walking through the hunted house:

“He's not coming, lover boy, ” Seokjin calls out to him teasingly while his eyes fix on the door, hand on the rim of the glass he’s keeping to not let anyone give him another. He sighs, maybe Seokjin is right, he’s not coming -especially because the boy isn’t a party guy and he knows it. He takes a sip of the drink filling the glass he didn’t want to drink anymore.

That, in retrospect, backfires him because he finds himself choking on that small sip when his eyes catch on a pair of fire-y red booty shorts and a barely covering bralette, a face decorated by a red mask connected to big red bunny ears.

Cigarettes daydreams:

It's been two years since their break up, now jimin and jeongguk live their lives very differently from before, but the sadness always catches up on them. Missing the other is a silent war between regrets and wishes for things to have gone another way.

Welcome to the story of how they find themselves again.

#jikook #fanfic #a/b/o fanfic #vampire #scifi #hybrid au #jungkook #jimin #bts fluff #angst with a happy ending #they are in love #exes to lovers #angst

38 notes · View notes

youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Kookies, Trojans & Malware

[Sparks Masterlist]

[Tag Yourself]

Beta: @nightshadevinter Pairing: Robot!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, Action, Adventure, Romance. Words: 7.6k

Summary: Jungkook is a robot police officer. He obeys and upholds the laws. After mistaking you for the criminal you open up his world and soon he is ready and willing to break the law for you.

You were making an honest living selling romance novels and the latest was about a robot carer and a sick human; right at the end there was a hint of love. Having just got off the phone with your publisher, the story had gone viral. Everyone was asking for a robot-human love story, but you didn't know if you could write about that without having written from a robot’s perspective. You hadn't even met a robot outside of general shopping or passing them by on the street.

You really liked the idea but wished you had some sort of extensive interaction with a robot. But this wasn’t the case. Your phone alarm went off, you had to pay rent, before the landlord called. But when you checked your bank there was a strange transaction going into your bank. It was from two days ago for a huge sum of 50,000,000KRW

This was super strange, you wondered why the police or bank hadn’t been calling or breaking down your door. That must only happen in movies, you turned back to your computer. The door was kicked open smashing into the wall beside you, making you squeak with shock as the place was flooded with police officers holding guns.

Restrained by someone you heard them recite your rights, "Good evening, I, police officer, robot division, Jeon Jungkook have come to place you under arrest for suspected fraud. Anything you say or do can be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can't afford one, one will be given to you. I am a robot police officer..." he spoke through the whole spiel.

You sighed exasperated, this isn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to interact with a robot. "I am always recording, if you are uncomfortable with a robot police officer I will step aside and let my fellow officers take over"

You blinked slowly as he walked you out the hall, it wasn’t much of an apartment and the old lady next door peaked out her door to watch you get taken away. They would definitely talk while you were away. "We will head to the patrol vehicle and take you back to the station where we will interrogate you"

"Wait sir, uh... robot man, my cat?" You said, making him stop and look down at you whilst trying to process the meaning of your words. She was an odd cross-eyed most of the time but you loved her, she could hardly take care of herself while you were there. How would she survive on her own? You would implore to bring her with you.

"Your cat?" The robot repeated as a meow was heard behind you. He turned eyes wide looking at the animal who had stepped into the hallway "What about your feline companion?"

"Well, we can't let her get hurt, can I take her with me?" You asked, looking up at him hopeful, “She is only a little baby.”

"I am unsure?" He tilted his head, you could practically see him searching for an answer in his hard robes. The lights scanning past his eyes were an indication of his exploration of protocols and policies when it came to pets.

"If you leave a defenseless animal on their own they will die. Isn't a police officer's job to protect?" You countered hoping his system would understand that. You had never tried to outsmart a robot but you thought you could make a compelling argument.

He paused again, thinking over your words, before nodding, "Obtain your feline companion and we shall continue the arrest" He uncuffed your wrists but held them firmly in his hands making you look up at his stern eyes. “I am warning you if you try to run I will have to restrain you.

You grabbed your cat packing a small bag of food, and a small bag of litter, and a clean tray. Watching the officers in your apartment taking your things for evidence. Taking the cat and scooping her into the small cat carrier you walked back over to officer Jeon, “I must cuff you as is procedure, but I assure you, the animal will not be harmed."

You placed down the cage holding your hands behind your back letting him re-cuff your wrists. He leaned down gently picking up the cage his large hand secured around the handle. He guided you along and you tried to turn back to study him some more, "mister robot man?"

"My name is cyber office Jeon Jungkook." He looked straight ahead and you smirked at the professional personality programmed into his hard drives. The cat made a small meow and he adjusted the cage holding it in a way that kept it still as he walked.

"Sorry, um I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions later?" This would be an amazing opportunity to gather intel about robots for your next story. He was handsome and moved with such poise, there was a faint hum under his skin like the buzz of electricity in the air when your apartment got quiet.

"You have the freedom and right to speak" he smiled, you saw the Police cruiser just across the street and headed for it but he pulled you to the right and the two of you were walking away from the vehicle and down the street.

“Are we walking to the station?” You laughed sarcastically.

“No, though I am equipped with GPS and am fully charged and able to walk to the police station, I feel it would be much more comfortable for humans and more time-efficient to take the police cruiser parked across the road, driven by officer Han” He replied seriously gesturing to the very same police cruiser you were walking away from.

"It was sarcasm,” You snorted, “If that is your car, why are we walking away? where are you going?"

"To the intersection, Jaywalking is illegal" He sighed, checking on the animal which was moving around the carrier “I apologize I don’t often pick up human nuances. Perhaps you would be so kind as to teach me more?”

"Okay..." You hummed, the two of you finally reached the pedestrian crossing, you went to cross but he didn't budge, making you fall back and hit his broad chest "What, why did you stop?"

"We must wait for the pedestrian light to turn green indicating that it is safe to cross," He said as if he was reciting it for children and you rolled your eyes.

"You follow every rule?" You questioned his dedication to the cause.

"I follow all rules." he said with a definite tone like he couldn’t be swayed.

"So what happens if the light is red but across the street, there was a man stealing a woman's handbag. You would have to wait for the light to turn green before crossing and pursuing the criminal and by that time he would have gotten away and may have even killed someone. When you could have captured him and saved lives and stopped more crimes. I mean really are you not aiding and abetting the criminal by watching them getaway.”

You saw him process this information until the light turned green, the symbol of the walking man prompting the robot to walk briskly across the road. As you walked back to the car you laughed “Your police officer friends are Jaywalking, you should write them a ticket.”

“My fellow police officers are the exception, I cannot turn against them,” He said, seeming to not understand this element of his instructions either.

“So if your fellow officers go rogue and shoot someone innocent you let them, they need to uphold the law so they should be the prime example, should they not?”

“I don’t know, I must ask the sergeant and review my policies and procedures” You both finally got to the car, officer Jeon opened the door placing the cat down on the curb and turning to you, "you must sit in the back. Please mind your head"

He placed his hand over your head and guided you into the vehicle and even leaned over to buckle you in. "I will place your cat in the seat next to you" You were soon on your way to the police station. Where you were ushered into the interrogation room with Jungkook who held your cat carrier and bag.

The interrogation began and you were told to answer truthfully.

“What is your name?” Officer Jeon asked with no writing or recording impliments.How was he recording your answers? Was he literally recording your answers?

“How about this, I will answer one of your questions, officer, and you answer one of my questions.” You asked curiously.

“What is your name, miss?” he asked again.

“My name is (Your full name),” You said and he nodded just as he opened his mouth to speak you asked your question quickly, “How do you record my answers without a pen and paper or laptop, and when you record my answers how does it get into the police system?”

He didn’t answer looking at you and you leaned forward, “Come on it was my turn you have to be fair,”

“I am completely fair and just” he sat up straighter how that was possible for the prim and proper robot your would never know, “I record everything, it is saved on my system and the back up system whilst also being wirelessly sent to the national system where it is filed and finally everything is live fed to the bureau.”

“That’s really nifty. So you are recording everything now, where from?” You looked him up and down.

“That was more than one question miss y/n, I thought you were being fair and just, I am recording everything,” he raised one finger with a smirk and gesticulating another as he continued, “my eyes are the camera and my ears record everything I hear. That is two questions for me.”

“Correct,” You leaned in a little more intrigued further by his systems and personality and all that they entailed. He asked how old you were and where you lived and you answered leaning a little more over the desk. “What do you like to do?”

“What?” He looked shocked

“Hey you can’t answer a question with a question,” You pouted and he shut his mouth processing the meaning of your words, “You can just ask me to explain you don’t have to search everything. What do you like to do? it means like what are your hobbies?”

“Officer Han likes playing poker” He said slowly

“No, I asked what you like to do, not him,” You laughed at his expression. He seemed stumped “Like when you aren’t working.”

“I am always working and when I am not working I am charging” He said “Now, I have some questions about the recent activity in your bank…”

You were shocked all he knew was work and sleep, it was uncommon for humans to only know these two traits as well but you hoped he got to do something.

“Have you ever watched a movie?” You blurted out and he froze in the middle of reciting dates to you.

“I have obtained information from many movies, I understand pop culture references and have a list of top one hundred famous movie quotes in my system.”

“But have you seen them, like at a movie theatre?”

“No I haven’t.” He said looking impassive but you felt a little upset, sure he was a robot but that didn’t mean he had to spend his entire life working. You had no more questions for him after that finding you were a little scared to find out more.

You were made to stay overnight in the cell. It was nice for a cell, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in but you, the bedding was freshly washed and pressed. What fancy cell was this? “It’s nice huh, at night Jungkook washes all the bedding and when he wakes up he makes the beds.”

“Is he allowed holidays?” You asked, “He only works, haven’t you tried to let him see other things outside of work.”

“I am afraid he wouldn’t understand it, he is meticulous with his programs and doesn’t understand many other concepts.” The man said, watching officer Jeon walk over with a tray of food, “Good job Jungkook, you did a wonderful job”

“Hey officer Jeon, would you like to sit and have dinner with me?” You sat on the floor and gestured to the floor in front of you, he tilted his head.

“I don’t eat food miss y/n,” He smiled “I am a robot,”

“What do robots eat?” you grinned curiously, he ran off and came back with a bottle of something.

“Everyday I drink this liquid and every night before recharging I expel the old liquid, it keeps everything running smoothly.” He smiled pouring himself a cup.

“Well come sit with me and we can eat together,” You gestured and he sat smiling and you held up your cup and he held up his and you clicked glasses. Something flickered in his eyes.

You watched him take a long drink as you took a sip and he stopped pulling the glass back down, swallowing thickly. He held the cup looking at the liquid inside and whenever you would take a sip he would drink a little more liquid.

The two of you were talking all night and you had finished your food and drink but he still held the cup sipping slowly watching you tell him about how you were afraid of trains, because when you were a kid you had been left on a train and bad things happened. “You have been holding that empty cup for ten minutes now Jungkook, you can’t fool me. Oh! I mean Officer Jeon.”

“It’s okay, I finished after you told me about the story about the sick human and the robot caregiver.” He grinned, “I liked that one, it is nice to see the robot caregiver being able to help the sick human.”

“You are getting tired, Miss y/n, it’s time to sleep” He said softly as you stood walking the tray to the door of the cell and he took the tray and left. You got into the bed and officer Jeon sat at his desk plugging a cord into his arm. You saw his shoulders slump indicating that he had powered down to charge and you closed your eyes falling asleep.

The next morning brought with it your discharge from the overnight cells, the officers thanked you for your cooperation and gave you a card in case you needed to contact them. Officer Jeon and Han drove you back to your apartment.

Officer Jeon insisted on carrying the cat carrier up the stairs. It seemed when the officer had woken up, your cat had snuck out of her cage and slept on his lap. The two continued to play throughout the morning and when you woke it almost seemed like the robot police officer was a little brighter.

You arrived at your apartment and watched as he tried to find where to put the cage. He was so endearing, you were going to ask even though you think you knew the answer. “Would you like to go to the movies with me, to watch a movie?”

He was snapped out of his dilemma of where to put the cage looking almost regretful, as he was about to turn you down. You took a deep breath, and opened your mouth to downplay it as just a friendly offer to get him away from work when a screeching of tires sounded outside your apartment.

The two of you ran to the window and saw Officer Han shot down. There were beeping sounds coming from the robot officer and you looked at him horrified. “I just called for backup. Stay here and I will restrain them.” He said and the men started shouting and running into the building.

You heard them say your name and you knew his robot ears did too, “You are in danger. Do everything I tell you and stay behind me.” He looked at the cat cage and went to go out the apartment door and you caught his hand, “Follow me down the fire escape?”

The two of you got out and ran to the police car, Han’s was still alive, but barely. “Move him to the back seat, we will take him to the hospital” You whispered, trying not to panic., “Can you drive?”

“Well yes, but I can’t do car chases its against the law, that's why Han’s drives” He said,

“Okay, Jungkook I need you to get in the passenger seat and close your eyes and don’t open them until we get there, I want you to get a GPS to the hospital and turn on the sirens” He nodded

“Go straight.” You took off and the sirens were put on, true to his word he kept his eyes shut allowing you to maneuver through the traffic and got to the hospital stopping in the emergency bay. “We are here. Can I open my eyes?”

“No wait,” you moved around the car and opened his door as the doctors ran out to grab officer Han. Leaning over Jungkook you took off his seat belt looking up. You got lost in his features, they were so smooth and his eyelashes were so long and you wanted to touch his hair. You let out a shaky breath and he seemed to feel it against his cheek, the cat carrier on his lap stirred and a meow was heard between you.

His eyes drifted open and focused on you, you were flustered. “I am in trouble, I am getting orders to return. They are wondering why I left the scene of the crime, I don’t know why I listened to a civilian. It went against all the policies and procedures, you broke the law.” He pushed the cat carrier into your hands and drove you back to the station.

“Officer Jeon, you defied orders and you left a crime scene, let the two gunmen get away, can you explain why this is?” The sergeant said, you sat in the corner as a suspect to this crime and you had to give a statement regarding officer Han’s shooting.

This was it you were going to get in trouble for saving a police officer, “When I saw officer Han, I just moved instinctively to save him.” Your mouth fell open, he just lied, he cyber police officer Jeon Jungkook just lied to the sergeant, isn’t that against everything he stands for.

“I want you to hand over the footage of this incident?” The sergeant said

“There is none” He said “My wires shorted out and there is no footage from getting in the car to getting to the hospital”

Another lie. What is happening?

“Jeon Jungkook, you are going to be scheduled for maintenance at the end of the month.” The sergeant said “You are off active duty until then”

After all the more important officers left, Jungkook slumped into his chair. “Officer Jeon, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get taken off duty. I just wanted to save your partner officer Han, he was going to die”

“I don’t know what to do for twenty-one days, sixteen hours, forty-three minutes and eleven seconds. Ten seconds” He stated with no emotion, “Nine seconds.”

“You could come stay with me, my cat already loves you. Plus what if those guys come back,” You smiled and he looked up at the two of you before nodding. Grabbing a small supply of the special liquid he drinks the two of you took a taxi back to your apartment.

Jungkook looked around; he wasn’t wearing his uniform but instead was wearing a tracksuit. Looking him up and down you laughed, “First we need to find you some clothes. I am pretty sure I have some old clothes of my dad’s, I couldn’t part with them all these years so now I guess I can finally get some use out of them.”

You found him a button up and some dress pants and he went to get changed. When he stepped out you could help but tear up a little, “What is wrong?” Jungkook strode across the room and looked at you, “Have I done something to offend you or make you upset?”

“No, no” you sniffed, laughing at his over the top reaction. “I just miss my father.”

“Where is he?”

“He passed away a few years ago,” You said and Jungkook seemed to slowly process that information but struggled to comprehend the extent of the feeling.

“I am sorry for your loss,” He sighed, “I wish humans were like Robots, there are rarely any deaths, just missing data that can be restored. I don’t think I could ever truly understand permanent death.”

“Imagine the people you love and care for, your friends and people you work with and you are having a great time and death is never having that again,” It was an odd way of explaining it but you think it summed it up well enough. Jungkook’s eyes flashed and he nodded seeming to file the information away to review.

You took Jungkook out. it was his first day off and you were going to make it special, dragging him to the movies you tried to find something fairly new that his internet filled head wouldn’t have seen. If Jungkook was all about the law he wouldn’t be watching bootlegs on the dark web.

You pulled him into a romantic comedy, part of it was because you wanted to watch it and another part was for research to see how Jungkook would act. He seemed engaged watching the couple fall in love with their little awkward moments.

There was a scene where the main character and the love interest were locked in a gaze. It made your heart beat quickly, it was such a heavy feeling. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably and you wondered if he felt it.

After the movie the two of you headed to an aquarium and after the aquarium you were heading home when you passed a busker and you started dancing giving them some money and laughing as you swayed to the beat. Dragging Jungkook to dance with you, he seemed a little nervous but you were quick to praise him. His eyes locked on the Robot with a shirt that read ‘hope world’ dancing and he analysed the moves joining in.

The two of you headed home and you ordered yourself some dinner. The two of you sat down while he drank and you talked about the movie. “Why did it get slow when the two of them locked eyes?” Jungkook asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room you had wanted to bring up.

“Well when you fall in love with someone it's like your heart speeds up but everything stops working and all you can think about is that someone.” You said he processed it, eyes flashing, it was like neither of you wanted to go to bed. You had started watching ‘Circuit Chef’ the host was hilarious and he had a new sidekick who really livened up the show.

“I didn’t know robots could do other things” Jungkook said “I just assumed we were all the same, but after reading your book and looking around I can see robots have many functions, but why can’t we have all of them? Humans can do anything they want but us Robots are only programmed to do such a small portion.”

“I want to be human, I want to do everything, try everything” he sighed, “Now that I am off duty I can’t even uphold the law or I will get in trouble, I am just a basic command robot.”

“Then I command you to try everything you ever wanted to do, act like a human.” Yawning, Jungkook looked at you, seeing how your eyes were closed and your head had fallen onto his shoulder. He thought you were asleep, he scooped you up and your eyes opened.

“I am sorry I thought you were asleep,” He apologized but continued walking you to the bed, he laid you down tucking you in. Jungkook paused for a moment searching for something in your expression, a flash in his eyes and he stood straight up and scrambled looking at his forearm, “I have to go charge.”

You couldn’t be sure if you dreamt it but for a moment there you thought maybe he was going to kiss you, whatever it was you had fallen asleep before you could dwell on it further.

The next day you woke to a delicious smell in the kitchen and when you stepped out Jungkook had made a range of meals and when he saw you he smiled brightly. “Look what I made, I can cook like Circuit chef Kim Seokjin.”

“That’s really good, did you cook everything in the house.” You sat down eating some of the dishes and grinning. “Wow, kookie this is tasty.”

“What did you call me?” He asked, pausing in the middle of mixing some batter. The frilly apron he was wearing looked cute on him.

“I called you Kookie, it’s a nickname,” looking at all the food you frowned, “Kookie, you have to put the food into dishes and pack it away in the fridge and freezer for me to eat over the next year.”

“That is a joke,” He pointed at you and chuckled, “I have been learning about jokes from Robot Hyung Kim Seokjin,”

“I’m glad you have been having fun?” You grinned at the young man in your kitchen, noticing some flour in his hair, wondering if that would ruin how soft it looked. “Wait, stay still you have flour in your hair?”

“Lean down a little, okay, stay there,” The flour had been wet when it had touched the few affected strands, now it was dry and reminded you of papier-mâché.

You gently removed it and ran your fingers through his soft tresses trying to dust away any loose strands of flour, or at least that was the excuse you were using. Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice, he sat there bent slightly, his head in front of your face, his eyes looking down.

You moved his head around and looked at his fringe making sure there was no flour there. “Are you waterproof?”

“Yes,” he grinned, looking you in the eyes you felt your heart skip a beat as you watched his lips form the next words. “I take showers at the station once a week unless told otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“I think you may need to shower when you finish cooking?” You said and went to the bathroom, to get him a towel and everything. Jungkook stepped into the bathroom and began taking off his shirt and you turned away.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, folding up the shirt and placing it on the bench.

“Nothing, I will let you shower,” you left, hoping your cheeks hadn’t reddened further. You heard the water running and let out a sigh, he was busy for now.

The food was better than anything you could make and you were a great cook, so it was hard to admit. It was also hard to pack away when you were running out of Tupperware and fridge space.

“I am done,” Jungkook called, as you slipped the last container into the fridge.

“Kookie no more cooking today there is no room” you laughed, pressing the door to the fridge closed with all your strength until finally the door sealed shut. “I need to be able to eat all of this first.”

Turning you saw Jungkook standing with only a towel around his waist, you squealed, slapping your hands over your eyes. “What are you doing, half naked in the living room?”

“I had no more clothes,” He paused “Should I put those clothes back on?”

“No, I will find you some more,” You handed him some more of your fathers clothes and you left the room so he could change, undisturbed. That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder.

Jungkook was ripped, his body literally made to perfection, his back was so broad. He was built lean and yet his biceps were the size of your calves. You sat on the couch, closing your eyes and indulging in the sight that you had been blessed with.

You shouldn’t be thirsting over a robot? But it was so hard not too when he looked like he was an actual adonis. You took a few breaths in an attempt to still your beating heart, and opened your phone, you began searching news websites for information of Robots being weird.

Nothing had been posted except an advertisement for an experiment trial with robots designed for personal pleasure. You quickly close that tab not wanting to think about that any further. You had almost given up hope until you saw it.

My Robot is acting weird.

It was a reddit forum and you were quick to jump on and read the stories of robots doing things that they weren’t programmed to do and questioning things. Acting dare you say it? Human. It was a scary thought but you weren’t the only one who thought the same. Someone had said that their robot was developing feelings and emotions and becoming more human per day.

Jungkook exited the room and shuffled nervously. Was he programmed to be a little shy? One would hope not, being a police officer. Maybe this was what they meant on the forum? Or, maybe you were reading too far into it? Yes that had to be it.

You took Jungkook through the town and the two of you stopped by a bar. It was a modern style and super clean, you found a booth and sat down, The waiter was a long legged robot who moved so elegantly and you were lost for a moment in his movements.

“Good evening, can I take your order?” He said his voice soft and sweet like an angel. You felt your ears go warm and you asked for a glass of wine. You were really only here to let Jungkook experience everything he wanted and he did wonder earlier about what it was like to drink at a bar. “And should I get you some oils or coolants sir?”

“No thank you,” Jungkook huffed, turning away, the waiter wilted at the rudeness and nodded leaving the table.

“Jungkook, why were you being so rude?” You asked looking at him and he blanched, you could see he wasn’t happy but you couldn’t figure out why. All you did was order wine from the attractive robot waiter. Wait. Was he jealous? Because you were ogling the waiter?

“I am not being rude, I just don’t want any cheap coolant or oils, I only drink the best” He puffed up his chest and lifted his chin turning away. He was like a petulant child. While waiting for your drink you began writing the outline for your story and sending it to the editor to liaison to the publishing company, seeing if it was worthy to write.

Your drink was bought back and you saw Jungkook bristle again. “Um, I am sorry if I offended you, my name is Jimin and over there is my owner and the love of my life, I wasn’t trying to hit on your girlfriend or anything?”

Jungkook almost visibly relaxed and the two started talking quickly in a series of beeps that made you giggle writing down a few more dot points for your next book. Jimin left with a wave and a thank you toward you both and he went back to the counter.

You saw him kiss the bartenders cheek and he pouted when the bartender shrugged him off to focus on her work. Jungkook watched the two happily and you stood up, “Excuse me Jungkook, I just want to talk to the bartender, is that okay?”

He nodded as you were walking to the bar when Jimin passed holding glasses of coolant, one for each robot. Sitting at the bar you smiled “Hey, do you mind if I ask some questions about your robot?”

“What do you want to know?” She looked up, handing a drink over to a customer who went and sat down. It was a monday so it was pretty quiet.

“I was wondering if he has done anything strange, something he isn’t programmed to do or even started developing thoughts, ideas and feelings?” You said, “That robot is a police officer who physically cannot break the law and yet he did it for me, he lied to protect me and not two seconds ago got jealous of your robot, this isn’t normal behaviour, he isn’t programmed for any sort of relationship personality traits.”

“Half a month ago Jimin had a drink thrown at him, he went funny, I had programmed him to be gentle and kind and he shouted and practically threw some people out the bar. I did some maintenance and he told me he wanted to be my robot companion, you know the type?” She gave you a look and you flushed nodding. “After that I found out he was doing his own maintenance and upgrading, he has become so free now, he told me the programs made him feel limited”

“That’s exactly what Jungkook said, he said that he wanted to be human and not just one program, he was a police robot who never had a day off, had no hobbies installed and only worked and slept.” You explained stressing the simplicity of his systems. “Now, he likes to cook and dance and he wants to go see an art exhibition tomorrow and he is getting jealous and nervous, things he has never expressed before”

“That does sound odd,” She hummed “I have been thinking it for a while now and I heard someone may have an explanation but I haven’t had time to find them, perhaps because I am scared of what I am going to hear”

She slipped you a napkin with an address and looked up, “His name is Hitman Bang, he used to create robots and then something happened, that’s all I know?”

You returned home and began writing but not for the story, you started documenting everything you found, experiences and more. You were going to go to the art gallery tomorrow and then afterwards you would go see this mysterious man for information.

The next morning you woke early and got dressed, Jungkook was sitting on the couch waiting for you and he smiled face lighting up when he noticed you walk in. Giving a soft meow, your cat had lifted its head from his lap.

“Good morning,” The greeting was laced with excitement, you felt like you were on the edge of a discovery and you wanted to see it through until the end. The two of you were ready to see the art exhibition, it was from a university and there were many entrants who submitted their work.

Buying tickets at the door, Jungkook frowned, “In movies the man usually pays for things?” You turned to him a little shocked and also a little amused.

“Back in the day it was the man who earned money and the woman was locked up inside their house to do nothing but cook clean and have children. So men paid for everything.” You spoke softly, “Then women were allowed to work and vote but they were paid less than men and nowadays that still sometimes happens but in some places it is equal wage and that means I can buy things myself.”

“Oh,” He processed the information and searched a few things in his head, “This seems like something discussed a lot online, I am glad I have seen this side of things. I would like to thank you for using your money on me, I wish I had money so that I could pay for my own things as well”

“You don’t get paid!” You were outraged, he worked everyday of the year since he was manufactured and they didn’t pay him, didn’t let him enjoy anything fun. “Jungkook what is your birthday?”

“I wasn’t born, I am a robot,” the word robot almost sounded bitter. “I was manufactured on the first of September”

“That was a few months ago, I am sorry I missed it, have you ever had a birthday party or gotten any gifts?” He stopped for a moment before he had completed his research online and turned back to you shaking his head. “Alright well I know it’s late but I will give you one birthday wish, you can ask for anything you want?”

The two of you finally reached the inside of the gallery past the lobby and Jungkook’s eyes met a code on the door that had information from the artists of each piece and their inspiration. He walked through and began explaining it all to you and it made you smile. Linking your arm with his, you laid your head on his shoulder and continued walking slowly.

He stopped, looking at the painting and he was frozen examining it. “This is beautiful.” He whispered, you looked at the painting it didn’t seem like much, just random overlapping shapes in strange colours. “It was painted by a robot named Taehyung, he says he fell in love with painting after a young woman taught him how. The next part is written in binary code but I can translate it.

“My hair shows my basic emotions but this is a painting representing my love for the woman who taught me how to paint. When she kisses me it feels like my engines will explode. My system has a folder of her and everyday I file away new information.” He touched his chest and turned to you. The two of you walked to the address on the napkin, each stride ate the city ground away and you were in some less populated suburban streets.

You passed a small advertisement of a woman kissing a man holding a bouquet of flowers, it was for a florist and Jungkook stopped underneath it. Taking his bicep in your hand you tried to offer him comfort without swooning over the size of his biceps. “Jungkook is everything okay?”

“Do you know how you said I had a birthday wish,” Jungkook looked at you, “I think I know what I want to try?”

“Okay, what do you want to try?” He leaned down and kissed you. It was awkward at first the way he was bent and just pressing his lips to yours but, he seemed to jolt, his engines beeping and his auto air compression units hissed to life.

Jungkook’s hand cupped the back of your head and he tilted his head the opposite way and deepened the kiss naturally. He pulled away looking panicked and he ran off. You were frozen unsure if you should follow him or not, but you decide he is pretty good and knows how to fight and protect himself.

Ringing the doorbell a voice came over the intercom, “Name and business?” the voice stated. It sounded like a tired but refined man and you were a little nervous. The house though in an average neighborhood was quite posh.

“My name is Y/n and I was told you might have information as to why my robot is acting weird?” Your voice cracked giving away your nerves and he sighed the gate buzzing open.

“Come in.”

Walking briskly to the front door you felt dwarfed by the sheer size of the house, it was almost laughable the grandeur design and the ostentatious presence it gave. The door was opened electronically and you moved inside taking off your shoes. “Good afternoon, my name is Hitman Bang, what is it you want to know?”

“I am in possession of a Police officer robot who has no other programs features or hobbies only his police programing, he has developed hobbies and interests without upgrades or downloads and he um, just kissed me and ran away outside the florist down the road?”

“I see,” He hummed leaning forward, “Let me tell you a story,”

He began telling you about a robot he programmed. “It was while I was working at Spark’s industry. His name was Lee-Hyun. He was the first love companion robot that was made, he was perfect and could be tailored to anyone's desires. He fell in love with a researcher that worked there, her name was Dae. He found out Dae was getting married and caught her and her fiance kissing. He rampaged and killed them both. He was inconsolable and had to be shut down.”

“You looked shocked, not every robot is like this, his feelings just manifested so strong due to the environment and seeing her with anyone else made him so angry. When we checked the records before he was shut down he uploaded a virus, something small that started affecting the bots and we got the virus under control and I quit, unable to work there anymore.”

“So this virus?” You asked, “does it make them feel real emotions like a human?”

“Yes, it will give them the emotional capacity and empathy of a human, they will love and hate and become curious” He ran his hand over his face, the only thing that worries me is if this virus leaks out what might happen, they will have emotions but they will have no teachers their understanding of right and wrong will no longer be objective, they will be influenced by their feelings not knowing how to control such strong emotions. The robots acting on impulse could get people hurt.”

You headed home wondering if you should tell Jungkook what you had learnt, the more you sat the more you seemed to stew over the words. It was true as humans you are taught how to control your emotions but for robots they were not they had no teachers. Perhaps, you could be his teacher.

“Jungkook I have something I need to tell you,” you called stepping into the apartment, you were met with a chilling sight. Jungkook wasn’t there and your cat was hiding in her tower but two men stood in your living room waiting.

“Good evening,” They smiled, it wasn’t pleasant or reassuring. It was a nasty smile, “we won’t hurt you, we just want to get some information, if you cooperate we won’t have to use force.”

“We believe you have something of ours, some money and we would like you to come with us. leave your phone here” The other spoke, you nodded, walking to the table and placing your bag down, and your keys, your phone was still in your back pocket.

“May I feed my cat before we go, I assume I won’t be back for a while” They nodded, you headed to the pantry and bent down grabbing the bag of cat food, quickly sending a message to Jungkook.

There are people in my house with guns. It was read instantly.

You stood back up grabbing a cup and filling the water bowl with water before placing the cup in the sink and the scoop back into the cupboard. In the safety of the cupboard you tried checking your phone once more when it beeped. You swore as you were grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the ground, the phone taken from your hands.

“Who are you messaging?” They asked, guns drawn.“Who is Kookie?”

“My robot companion,” you blushed

“Look lady, your robot isn’t going to help you, now get up” The pulled you up off the floor and dragged you to the door and to the elevator where you stopped. The elevator ride was awkward and when the doors opened there were police at the door guns drawn.

You sighed with relief and Jungkook hugged the two gunmen getting arrested, “I thought you were going to die. I drove here and broke so many road rules. I jaywalked.” You laughed eyes watering, the elevator doors shut around you two and you didn’t move to fix it. “I thought you were going to die. All I could think of was us having such a wonderful time together and never having that again. It was like my heart sped up but everything stopped working and you were the only thing I cared about.”

He kissed you and you kissed back the adrenaline wearing off and your legs went weak. He caught you as the doors opened once more and the officers climbed in. They were going to your apartment to ask you a few questions.

Jungkook said he would stay the night and watch over you and you were grateful he didn’t run away again.

It was the end of the month and Jungkook was called back to the station he was being picked up to get maintenance but instead when he arrived with you nervous in tow he met the sergeant and asked to resign.

“I think my judgement has been compromised and I would like to be taken off the police force” He requested, the sergeant looked like he was in shock. “I do not wish to be upgraded or to continue working in the police force. I hope my replacement is a new model with fewer issues. I forfeit all my rights to the police database as I hand you my resignation”

“I cannot deny you the right to resign, even if I don’t understand it.” The sergeant sighed, “get out of here, I have a replacement to order”

Tags: @moccahobi @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @knjkitten @black-rose-29 @jooniesdimples70307

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