#i have misjudged that shade of red until now

[wanderingaldecaldo]

lady in red

[blu-joons]

When He Notices That You’ve Injured Yourself ~ Seventeen Reaction

S.Coups:

A loud yell came from Seungcheol, pointing his hand to the back of your arm where he noticed a large bruise that had suddenly appeared on your body.

“What happened to you whilst I was at work?” Seungcheol asked, carefully pulling you towards him so that he could inspect the marking and check it over.

Your eyes looked behind your back to see what had captured his attention. “I wish I could give you an answer, but I had no idea I had a bruise there.”

“No idea?” Seungcheol asked in surprise, brushing his finger over it, only for you not to react. “What could you have done to even cause a bruise on your arm like this?”

“I really have no idea, unless I bashed it in my sleep or something.”

A soft sigh came from him, unable to hide his frustration that he didn’t have the answers. “You’ve really got to take better care of yourself Y/N.”

Your head nodded, smiling across at him. “If I knew what had caused the bruise I could try and do a better job of taking care of myself too.”

“Are you sure you can’t remember?” He asked once again, only for your head to shake. “I want to keep an eye on it, make sure it heals well.”

“Don’t worry, now we know it’s there, we’ll keep an eye out.”

Jeonghan:

As soon as you felt Jeonghan’s hand stop running through the strands of your hair, you looked up to him in confusion as to what was going on.

“Since when did you have a cut on your forehead?” He questioned, inspecting it closely, “I swear that wasn’t there yesterday, was it?”

Your head shook back at him, “I did bang my head earlier, but I just presumed that I was fine because nothing hurt. Is it a bad cut? Does it need treating?”

“It’s only little,” he quickly assured you, pressing a kiss over it. “But how many times have I told you to be careful, sometimes you seem to forget just how clumsy you really are.”

“It was an accident, I just misjudged how tall the shelf was.”

His eyes rolled, moving his hand back through your hair. “I might have to start wrapping you in bubble wrap whilst I’m at work to stop you from hurting yourself.”

A soft giggle escaped from you, “I’m not that bad, anyway this small cut is far from the worst of injuries that I’ve caused myself whilst you’ve been at work.”

“That’s a given,” Jeonghan sniggered, “I still remember coming home to see you collapsed in the shower because you couldn’t stand on one leg.”

“I thought we agreed that was an incident that we didn’t speak of?”

Joshua:

You stopped walking as soon as you heard Joshua call out your name, spinning around on your heels to see what it was that he wanted from you.

“Why is there blood on the back of your shirt?” He questioned, beckoning you back to him so that he could take a closer look. “Is it yours?”

Your shoulders shrugged back at him, unsure of the answer. “I’m guessing that it must be, but I don’t remember hurting myself or bleeding either?”

“Let me take a look,” he spoke, lifting your shirt up slowly, hissing underneath his breath. “You’ve got quite the cut along your spine, what the heck have you been doing?”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember doing anything to make myself bleed.”

His head shook as he lowered your top back down, “try and think, you don’t get a mark like that from doing nothing. It’s like you’ve been in a fight or something.”

As you thought back, a memory popped into your head. “Well, I did fall into the coffee machine at work today, but surely that can’t cause a cut like that.”

“You’re so clumsy,” Joshua laughed, throwing himself back on the sofa, “did no one at work say anything to you with blood on your shirt either?”

“No! Damn, I really do work with a bunch of snakes at that office.”

Jun:

His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed what was a small cut on your arm from earlier in the day turn a darker shade of red, as it began to scab over too.

“That’s not looking good,” Junhui sighed, pulling you closer so that he could take a closer look, “does it hurt if I touch it or do anything?”

Your eyes looked to him in confusion as his hand ran along the length of your arm. “What’s supposed to hurt if you touch it? My arm?”

“The cut,” Junhui stated as if it were obvious, “don’t act like it’s nothing and shrug it off, it’s a pretty sore cut that you’ve got going on there Y/N, it can’t be pain free.”

“Junhui, I really have no idea what you’re going on about.”

His hand grabbed your arm and turned it so that you could finally get a look at the cut. “Are you really telling me that you had no idea that you had this?”

Your head nodded, although he still didn’t quite believe you. “It’s not sore at all, even if it does look nasty. You could probably hit it and I wouldn’t even feel a thing.”

“How?” He chuckled, dropping your arm back down to your side, “what sort of alien are you to not feel a single bit of pain from a cut like that?”

“I’m very much a human, just with a higher pain tolerance than most.”

Hoshi:

Soonyoung soon grabbed onto you as your top rose up, noticing a large bruise on your hip, turning you around in his arm so that he could take a better look.

“Is that from when I bumped into you in the kitchen earlier?” He instantly asked you, hopeful that something else had caused the bruising.

Your eyes glanced down at it, shaking your head as you noticed his panicked expression. “It was probably me; I did bump into the table leg earlier too.”

“But what if I was the one that caused it?” He whispered, brushing the pad of his thumb over it, only for you not to respond. “Does it not hurt? It looks like a bad one.”

“I didn’t even realise that I had a bruise there until you saw.”

His head nodded, feeling a little bit better about things. “Even if it wasn’t caused by me, I want you to know how sorry I am for bumping into you earlier like that.”

Your hand rested over his, “accidents happen all the time, especially when two people are trying to cook in a kitchen. I’ll survive, the bruise will go in a few days.”

“I’ll make sure that I look after you until then,” Soonyoung vowed, “it’s the least I can do if I was potentially the one who caused it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but I won’t complain about being looked after.”

Wonwoo:

A pair of hands quickly caught you as you tried to stand up from the sofa only to feel your body tumble back down, being eased into Wonwoo’s lap.

“Steady,” he frowned, noticing the surprise on your face too. “What happened there? Are you hurt at all and hiding it from me again?”

Your head shook as Wonwoo moved you to beside him so that he could take a look. “I’m not sure, maybe I lost my balance or something, I’m not too sure.”

“Balance is definitely the issue,” he sighed as he looked at your feet, “remember that tiny bump you had after your fall yesterday? It’s not so tiny anymore I’m afraid.”

“But how can a swollen bruise cause me to fall over like that?”

Wonwoo smiled sympathetically in your direction, “your ankle is pretty weak right now, that’s probably why, it needs a bit of time to heal, properly at least.”

You soon picked up on what Wonwoo was implying. “I’m not going to hospital, not for this. The last thing I need is crutches or anything like that to help me.”

“You need to get it checked over,” he tried to reason, “if it’s swollen like this then there could be something more serious going on. Please?”

“Fine, as long as you promise that you won’t leave my side at all.”

Woozi:

His hand grabbed onto your leg as soon as Jihoon thought he saw something, turning it over to see a cut just at the bottom of your knee as he thought.

“When did you do this?” He asked, turning your leg once again so that you could take a look. “This looks like it’s causing a bit of pain.”

Your head shook in response leaving Jihoon slightly surprised. “I had no idea that I’d even hurt myself until you pointed it out, it’s not been sore in the slightest.”

“Are you mad?” He chuckled, grabbing a tissue off of his desk to wipe it over, “you must not be human to not even feel that you’ve cut your leg like this Y/N.”

“I’m being serious, it’s not hurt at all, even on the walk over here.”

His eyes looked to you in complete surprise, “it looks pretty deep too, maybe we should keep an eye on this for a little while just in case it’s something serious.”

You took a closer look for yourself, noticing just how deep of a cut it was. “I’m sure it’s not that bad, it can’t be too serious if I haven’t even been able to feel it.”

“That’s what worries me,” Jihoon admitted, “don’t go home just yet, stay here so I can make sure that it starts healing properly first.”

“I’ll stay here for a little while, just to be sure and ease your mind.”

DK:

As soon as your eyes fell on the cheeky smile on Seokmin’s face, you knew you were in trouble as he knelt down to take a look at the cut on your leg.

“Move the tissue away,” he instructed, taking another look at the cut on your leg before taking the plaster out of his pocket to apply.

You watched closely, reaching out to stop him though when you realised what he had picked up. “I’m a grown adult Seokmin, I’m not wearing a frog plaster on my leg.”

“It’s the only one I could find in the dorm,” he argued, moving your hand away, “it’s this or walking around the streets with blood trickling down your leg like an idiot.”

“I think I’d rather just deal with the blood to be honest with you.”

His head shook, peeling off the wrapper of the plaster. “Don’t be stupid, you’ll barely be able to see the plaster through your tights anyway, it’s no big deal really.”

Your eyes widened at his words, “you might enjoy making a fool of yourself, but some of us have too much pride to wear a stupid frog plaster in public.”

“It could be worse,” Seokmin tried to comfort, “if the cut was big enough there’s a farmyard bandage that we have from years ago you could have had.”

“And suddenly the frog plaster doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.”

Mingyu:

A loud squeal came from you as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and lift you into the air, carrying you across the field and over to a bench.

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asked as he helped you sit down, “I noticed that your ankle was looking a bit swollen when you ran just then.”

You barely had time to comprehend what was going on before Mingyu was checking you over. “My ankle is fine, or at least I think it is. How can you tell it’s swollen anyway?”

“I’ve hurt my ankles enough times,” he commented, focused on taking off your trainer and your sock. “It definitely looks as if you’ve done a little bit of damage there.”

“It doesn’t even hurt, so how can you be so sure about that?”

Mingyu’s eyes looked up to you, “just trust me on this one, it might not hurt now, but when we get home later tonight that ankle will be giving you a lot of bother.”

Your head nodded as your body sunk down on the bench, “this is the last thing I need, getting injured during a stupid game of catch is just embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry,” he quickly assured you, “I know exactly what to do when ankles get injured, I promise you won’t feel much pain with me looking after you.”

“Aren’t you just the perfect knight in shining armour for me?”

The8:

You watched on as Minghao leant down and pulled at the top of your sock, noticing a trickle of dry blood that had run down onto the material.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He questioned, confused when your shoulders shrugged back at him. “How do you not know if you’ve hurt yourself?”

Before you had the time to answer, he pulled your sock back and noticed a large scratch along your leg. “That must have been from when I was on my bike earlier.”

“How did you not notice a cut this big? Or even the blood?” Minghao questioned, struggling to understand what had happened. “Does it not even hurt you?”

“Not really, I just thought it would be a soft scratch, no blood.”

His head shook as he took your sock off, throwing it to the floor. “The blood probably won’t come out of that now seeing as it’s a white sock too.”

You nodded back at him, taking a better look at the cut that you had. “I don’t care about my socks, but I am a little bit worried about just how bad this cut looks.”

“Don’t worry,” Minghao quickly comforted, “I’ll go and get the first aid kit and I’ll make sure that this cut gets cleaned up properly now that it’s noticed.”

“It’s a good job you’re on the ball and paying attention.”

Seungkwan:

He couldn’t hide the laughter that came from him as he ran his hand over the top of your head, feeling a large lump right at the very top.

“It’s like a mountain on the top of your head,” he instantly teased, “there’s no way that you could have not realised that thing growing.”

Your head shook, flinching away from Seungkwan’s hand, “funnily enough I don’t touch the top of my head too often to notice when it starts swelling.”

“What were you doing with your head in a cupboard anyway,” he continued to laugh, struggling to believe what had happened. “You do some weird stuff.”

“I was trying to find rice to cook for your dinner, actually.”

As he noticed the pain you were in, Seungkwan’s laughter began to stop. “You’re not going to need me to call an ambulance for you or anything like that?”

Your hand reached across to hit against his chest, “I’ve hurt myself Seungkwan, for once you could try and not see the funny side and help me out.”

“You’re right,” he frowned, resting his hand against your waist, “shall I order us some take out? We’ve probably got no rice for dinner now, right?”

“I meant help me out, not think about your hungry stomach.”

Vernon:

The gasp that came from Vernon instantly caught your attention, looking back you noticed his eyes firmly watching the back of your leg.

“What happened?” He asked, pointing to the spot that he was focused on, “that’s turning a pretty nasty shade of purple there Y/N.”

You tried to turn back around and take a look at what was on your leg for yourself. “Oh,” you chuckled when you noticed a bruise forming.

“You didn’t know?” Vernon asked in a slight state of disbelief, “that looks like it’s probably causing you some pain, and you didn’t notice that it was there?”

“I had no idea it was there; it doesn’t hurt at all though.”

A surprised chuckle came from Vernon, “so you can notice tiny things about me, but not when you’ve managed to bruise your leg as big as that is?”

“That’s because I care about you a lot,” you sweetly responded, “as for my own body, it’s already been battered and bruised plenty of times before.”

Vernon’s head shook back in your direction. “It’s a good job I care enough to notice you in that case, you need to make sure that you keep a bit of an eye on that thing.”

“That’s where you come in, always taking the best care of me.”

Dino:

You couldn’t hold back the hiss that came from you as Chan’s hand ran along your arm, clutching at it tightly as he moved away.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, watching closely as you moved your hand to study where the pain had come from. “Are you hurt?”

Your head slowly nodded as you remembered banging your arm earlier in the day, “I think it’s just the beginnings of a bruise that you caught.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, instantly feeling guilty, “do you want me to get you some ice or something to try and take away some of the pain.”

“No, it’s alright, I think it was the shock more than anything else.”

Chan’s head nodded back at you, “one day you’ll learn to stop being so clumsy and watch where you’re going.”

Your eyes rolled in response to him, “I didn’t think I’d hurt myself because my arm didn’t hurt, maybe I should have given it sometime after all.”

“As long as you’re alright?” Chan sighed, taking a hold of your hand much more carefully this time around, “are you sure that you don’t need anything for it?”

“It’s nothing, except for probably a nasty bruise in the morning.”

---

Masterlist

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 5

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, murder planning

Word Count: 2490

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

Roman was not used to feeling small.

He was used to standing out, being loud, and carrying his shoulders with a confidence worthy of the title he held and the company he was expected to keep. Wherever he went, he knew he could always hold his head high.

Staring at his reflection now, he had to fight the urge to duck his head. His face was, quite simply, a mess. The cut from Lord Howard’s ring was small enough that Roman didn’t feel the need to bandage it, but the wound was slightly swollen, and his cheek was a truly shocking shade of purple.

Swallowing, Roman picked up a small compact that had been left on his vanity. He wasn’t in the habit of applying makeup, but when the supplies for doing so had appeared in his room overnight, the message he was being sent was quite clear. He wasn’t even sure whether he was sickened or relieved by the act, at this point. In some ways, it felt like another mark of ownership; the earl wanted him as perfect and pristine as ever, no matter what happened. But on the other hand, Roman wasn’t sure if he could stand to walk about the estate with the mark on full display like a brand.

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned.  “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

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[jawritter]

Let’s Get Lost

Summary: Jensen takes you on a date to the local corn maze in lue of Halloween, and the fall season with every intention of getting lost. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Agoraphilia kink (public sex kink), Smut, outdoor sex, fluf, language, unprotected sex, dry humping? Sex on a bet. That’s pretty much it I think.

Word Count: 2743

A/N: This fic was beta’d by the lovely @miss-nerd95! Thanks so much love!! I haven’t dropped a Jensen Ackles one shot in a long time, so I figured in light of Kinktober, it seemed like the thing to do. LOL. As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist, and if that’s not enough become a patreon, and get exclusive fics as well as make request! 

**MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

The night air was turning crisp as the sun sank down past the low hanging clouds, casting long shadows of the trees along the highway as you stared out of the windshield in front of you. Jensen’s free arm slung over the seat with his hand resting on your shoulder, his bowed legs that you loved so much spread in a relaxed seated position and a pair of shades resting on the bridge of his nose as he drove down the fairly empty road out of town. His fingers drum lightly on Baby’s steering wheel to the sounds of Zeppelin that filtered through the speakers. 

This was by far your most favorite place in the world to be. The front seat of Baby with Jensen’s arm caging you protectively against his side, hints of the season’s change thick in the air  which was blowing through the open windows. 

You didn’t get to do this often in Texas, where cold days even in fall were few and far in between. Jensen’s work schedule was also part of a huge problem as far as nights out alone could go. Thankfully, even though he was somewhat of a well known celebrity in Austin, people were pretty respectful, and when they saw him out they didn’t hover too much. It was a blessing in a big way, not many people in his line of work had the freedom to do things like what you were headed to do tonight together without bringing a whole security detail. 

Tonight was the night before Halloween, Jensen had wanted to go to the local corn maze in town. It was something the town did every year, and it was something that you always looked forward to. There were always hayrides, and little old classic games like horseshoes, and even an archery competition. People would come out with their kids, or just on a date like the two of you were doing now. The goal was to make it through the corn maze without getting lost… or not getting caught… depending on just what you had in mind.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Jensen observed as he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the corn maze and festivities ahead of you. 

You let your head fall on his shoulder as he circled around the open field to try and find a spot to park Baby that was out of the way. She was a good bit bigger than most of your average cars, and he cared for her just as much as Dean had. 

“Just enjoying the evening,” you tell him. Honestly he could have kept driving your around and you would have been content just to be with him. 

“Well, we’re here, so let’s get lost,” he said, pulling the ball cap from the backseat and slipping it over his hair, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully. 

You give him a playful push on the chest in return, and laugh as his fingers slip around your waist, pulling you to him and peppering every inch of skin he could reach with little kisses.

“Jay!” you squealed, trying to wiggle your way away from his grasp as he continued his assault. “Stop!”

“Fine,” he said, releasing you with a deep chuckle. “But you better not go astray out there tonight, sweetheart. You never know what might happen in the dark.” 

The mischievous, pantymelting smirk that he gave you let you know exactly what he had planned by coming out here tonight and you weren’t surprised, but you weren’t gonna give in that easy, at least while you were still in the car.

“Jensen,” you hiss as the pair of you get out of the car, and start making your way towards the that was forming at the mouth of the corn maze where people were getting their bracelets stamped and paying the admission fee. “We are NOT doing that here. There are too many people and we can get caught!” 

“That’s all part of the fun, baby girl,” he said, giving you a wink and stepping up in front of the small table to pay for your admission. 

You narrowed your eyes as the back of his head as he paid the lady at the table, and was handed two red paper-bracelets. 

Jensen was a country boy through and through, all those years in California had done nothing to take the Texas out of the man. He was a gentleman, and a total sweetheart. He’d give the shirt off of his back if someone needed it more than him, and he had the most electric and admirable personality you had ever saw in an individual. The one thing that you never expected to discover when you first started dating was his public sex kink.

You were pretty sure it had everything to do with the thrill of almost being caught. You discovered it when he literally fucked you in the crowd at a slipknot concert. Thankfully the flashing lights and the dark arena made it hard for the crowd to see anything but the stage, and you got out of that without getting caught. 

And then there was the time the two of you did it in the girls bathroom at Jared’s bar, and even in the back of the movie theater three weeks ago. 

He was also the kind of guy that liked to take you home and make love with you where no one was watching. Those were when the sweet, intimate moments happened, the ones that let you know just how much he loved you, but this little kink of his was just for additional fun, and how could you deny him that?

“Okay everybody! Here are the rules!” a heavy sat man yelled at the top of the line, wearing overalls, a straw hat, and looking every bit like something that rolled out of a redneck comedy. 

“No running, no booze, no wandering off of the trail, no trying to sneak into the shake in the middle of the corn maze. If anyone is caught doing any of these things you will be asked to leave! Signs are set up through the maze to let you know where you are, and there are food trucks and games set up on the other side of the corn maze! You guys have a great time!” 

With that he threw open the ropes that were held up by two pools at the top of the maze, and the line started to move. Jensen’s hand laced with yours as people broke off in groups in the maze, looking around he took the path that seemed to have less people going in that direction, purposely taking the wrong way. A mischievous smirk that was put there by Satan himself to tempt any woman who saw it plastered all over his face. 

“Jensen,” you said, giving him a playful shove as the two of you made your way deeper into the corn maze. “I know what you’re up to mister.” 

“I am the poster child of innocence, sweetheart, you misjudge me,” he said in mock offense. 

Standing up on his tiptoes Jensen got a good look at his surroundings. Even though the corn was way over your head, Jensen had a clear shot of the field around him if he stretched far enough. Damn him and those long bowed legs. 

You rolled your eyes dramatically, and shook your head. Knowing that whatever Jensen Ackles wanted, he got, not that you were going to complain - much, and you could already see the well-defined bulge forming in the crotch of his dark-blue jeans that left little to the imagination as it was. 

“Oh you're  innocent? Yeah, then I must be Virgin Mary.”

Narrowed green eyes moved around to meet your gaze as straight, white teeth sank into his lower lip, the former shamelessly roaming your body in an almost predatory way that made you shiver. 

“Oh baby, you ain’t no virgin. I made sure of that.”

You swatted his chest when he winked and walked ahead of him further up the trail, the sun sinking lower as the two of you made your way deeper into the maze. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Jensen said, grabbing your waist, and pulling you close to his chest just in case listening ears were close by he couldn’t see. “You take the lead and if we end up at the end of the corn maze, we can go home and I'll have my way with you there, but if we get lost on a dead end and I win… I get to have my way with you right here.”

It was your turn to narrow your gaze at him as the excitement danced behind those forest green orbs that were staring down into your own. The excitement was almost contagious as it  radiated off him.

“You already know we’re lost, you can stretch to see over the corn,” you tell him accusingly. 

“Actually, we’re so deep in here that I can’t see any way out, and it’s getting dark,” he said, procuring two small flashlights out of his back pocket that you didn’t even know he had stuck there. “So it’s fair game, unless you're too chicken about getting caught if you lose.”

If there’s one thing you weren’t, it was a coward. Now you couldn’t back down from the challenge and he knew it. 

“Fine, I accept,” you tell him, poking him in the chest and watching as a wicked smile spread across those lips that were just daring you to kiss them. “But if I win I also want to go on a hayride before we leave.” 

You knew Jensen would want to get out of here as soon as you hit the exit if you won, his patience to get your pants off would be worn almost completely thin at that point and you wanted to drag out this victory for as long as you could.

“Lead the way, Y/N/N,” he said, giving you yet another smirk that made your knees weak. If you weren’t trying to make it at least a little hard for him you’d probably have given in already. He’d been in the mood all day, but where was the fun in that?

You thought you were making headway, you thought you were actually getting out, until you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of that damn shed they were talking about, and a sign that said to turn around and follow the signs for the exit.

“Dammit!” Stamping your foot you turned to see a very cocky Jensen, who was leaning against the sign biting his lip as if he had every right to stand there looking like the cat that caught the mouse. 

“Looks like I won, baby girl, but I have to say, if you were going to lose, wasn't this a good place to do it?”

Pushing himself off the sign he was leaning against, Jensen stalked towards you with an almost predatory stance, closing the distance between the two of you in just two short strides. His lips collided with yours as he backed the two of you to the little shack, not stopping until you hit the wall, your flashlights long forgotten on the ground as his body dominated your own. 

Your hands twisted in his hair, his ball cap on the ground next to your feet as he kicked your feet apart and nibbled on your lower lip, pressing his clothed length against your center. You gasped as his fingers started to make their way to the button on your jeans as he grinded himself down against you, creating a delicious friction that only got better as he harshly shoved your pants from your hips and kicked them out of the way before resuming his teasing. 

“Jensen,” you gasp as he increased the pressure of each thrust of his hips, the denim of his pants moving the thong that you were wearing against your swollen clit in a way that already had you panting. “We’re going to get caught, they said to stay out of this place.”

“We’re not in it, we’re outside of it, and if you can’t keep quiet baby girl your gonna be pretty embarrassed when they find us here,” he said, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear as his fingers wind their way around your legs and hoist you up to put even more pressure on your center.

It was all you could do not to make any sound, your legs already shaking as he continued to drive you crazy, and he hadn’t even pulled his dick out from his pants yet. 

“Come on baby, let go, all you gotta do is come, and then I’m gonna fill you up right here, you want that don’t you? Want me to fuck you right out here in the open like this, where anyone can see us, see who you belong too. Don’t you baby girl?”

You nodded furiously as he quickened his pace. He was pressing against you just right as he continued to drive you crazy. 

“Then let go, baby.”

His teeth sank down on your pulse point, and that was all it took. Your orgams hit you like a wave, your walls clenched around nothing as he slowed down his ministrations. When you finally stopped shaking Jensen pressed his weight against you to hold you up and freed his cock from his confines, moving your ruined thong out of the way and shoving inside of you with ease, your walls tightening around him as soon as he was fully seated and both of you let out a groan as he stretched you. 

“Fuck, so fucking wet, Y/N. Gotta keep quiet baby girl, or this party ends before it can get started.”  

 You nod at him and he slowly starts to pull out before slamming his hips back into yours, his hand slips between your body and rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

You held a scream in as Jensen’s cock slammed into you with mapped out accuracy, hitting that spot deep inside of you only he seemed to be able to find. Low grunts and breaths mingled as he kissed you in order to swallow the sounds you were making, your body already barreling towards its end as your walls fluttered around him. 

“God, I need to feel you sweetheart, let go,” he said with a strained voice, as his own pace started to falter and your walls squeezed him as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. 

Two more thrusts and he stilled inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of cum as his body twitched and he whined into your neck. Aftershocks of your release still rocked your body as you ran your hands through his hair, waiting for him to come down from his high. 

“Fuck, I needed that,” Jensen said, his breath fogging around the two of you in pants as he slowly removed his now softening length from you, and helped you stand on shaking legs. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding at him, you reached for your pants, but he was faster, helping you step into them before zipping his own, his lips finding yours in a much slower, softer kiss. 

“Okay, we need to get out of here, it’s getting cold,” you tell him as he laced his fingers with yours, and led you toward the exit, stopping to shrug out of his denim shirt, which left him in his fitted black tee and handed it to you to put on. 

“Okay, but first that hayride you wanted, and maybe a funnel cake,” he said, kissing your entwined hands as he led you towards the end of the very eventful corn maze. 

"You really want to go on a hayride with me?" you asked him hopefully.

"Of course I do! Besides, we can always get lost again on the way back to the car."

"You're terrible, you know that," you rolled your eyes, looking up at him as you reached the exit of the corn maze. The sound of kids running and music playing invaded your little happy bubble you'd been surrounded in as you made your way back to reality. 

"Yeah I know, but you love me anyway."

And you could honestly say that you, with everything in you, loved that man for all he was.

Forever tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​ @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy​ @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @deanwanddamons​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​

[dalamjisung]

“Hyung, are you even paying attention?”

“Yes…?”

“Hyung! I really need your help!”

A sigh. “I’m sorry, Jeongin. I swear I’m focusing now.”

That’s what you hear from the table behind you. Apparently, you aren’t the only one trying to catch up on work late at night. After you changed clothes, you went back to the cafe, needing a good catch up session for your Communications class. However, the ruckus behind you is starting to get distracting, and you can’t help but feel like one of them is staring at you. You slowly turn around to see who it is and you practically gasp– Hwang Hyunjin is sitting with whom you assume is Jeongin, explaining the different types of shading he can work with to complement his art project. All you know about Hyunjin is that he is the golden boy of the Design department; you remember the commotion it was when he won a design competition. Everyone celebrated and he was the talk of the campus for a couple of weeks. All the girls wanted to get with ‘The Ice Prince’ and you always wondered how icy could he be to get the nickname; but then you hear him laugh, probably about something his dongsaeng just said, and you smile with him, knowing that this man doesn’t have a single drop of ice in his blood– you see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. HH…, you think, wondering if it can really mean Hwang Hyunjin. You are pretty sure you recognize Jeongin from the drawing you previously saw. You turn around and take a sip of your coffee, pretending to not be a creep that stares at random people. Until it hits you.

How long has he been here in the cafe?!

—————————————

collateral damage // four : Ice Prince

pairing: designer!hyunjin x artist!reader

genre: college!au, fluff

description: They know of each other; him, the misjudged Ice Prince of the Design Department that just wants to draw and have fun. Her, the invisible street artist that everyone loved and admired and yet, no one cared about enough. The only thing they have in common is a drawing class needed for major credits. One fateful afternoon, Hyunjin decides to stay late to finish his project and spots a forgotten red backpack thrown in the corner of the room. His first mistake is checking the name tag. His second is checking the insides. And after that, is just one mistake after the other… not that he’d ever admit it.  

masterlist

chapter three // chapter five

taglist: @banqtlattae @dream-toaster @strxwberrifields @cryoskz @p2q3r4 @lochness-butmakeitsexy @necromancersupreme

—————————————

are we finally starting to get somewhere? 🤔😳 I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! let me know what you think :) I love hearing from you all! Thanks for the support, always <3

[beebrainedstudios]

if you ever have the time for it i am DYING to see what your holland playlist would look like!

Well, in that case...

Here’s Heavy Is The Head, an ADSOM Holland Vosijk playlist for all your bitter Antari needs! This playlist is long, but that’s because it’s specially formulated to have songs suited to different points in Holland’s life, and they appear in order so you can listen to specific events at your pleasure! So anon/anyone else looking, if you’ll indulge me, here’s a list of all the songs used, some with notes describing their place here;

First, general thoughts. I wanted this playlist to have plenty of dark ambient moments, but also several harsh and defiant ones, too; Holland is not as much of a sad character to me as he is angry, and a lot of his power and drive comes from a place of vengeance, wrath, and righteous justice. So, there’s a lot of rock, folk, and indie pop here. I tried to include all types of music to suit different tastes too, since I’m fairly diverse with my music choices. All that said-

Disclaimer: Some of these songs have profanity/swearing in them. As well, some of them have dark themes, undertones, and implications, so know that ahead of time. It’s a Holland playlist- I don’t feel like there’s anything here that’s darker than canon, but it’s still something any potential listeners should know. Consider this your warning.

Part 1- A Darker Shade Of Magic

Hollow (Cloudeater)

“I stay empty, I feel the hunger…”

Look Away (The Dear Hunter)

“And don’t you misjudge what I’m capable of, if I’m heir to a broken will…”

Wrath of Man (Chris Benstead)

(No lyrics, just the creeping sense of a vengeful creature stalking you. If anyone’s seen this movie, you’ll get the tone it sets.)

Paul Newman vs The Demons- Avett Brothers

“You may have to drag me away from my demons, kicking and screaming…”

Oleander (Mother Mother)

“I”ll be unclean, I’ll be obscene, you’ll be the rest…”

(Holland from the perspective of the Danes, specifically Athos.)

The Wolf (Phildel)

“The wishes I’ve made are too vicious to tell…”

Pain (Three Days Grace)

“Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all..”

(Here half as a callback to an old joke and half because Holland is not immune to an edgy rock phase.)

Black Eyes (Radical Face)

“My heart will be blacker than your eyes when I’m through with you..”

Arsonist’s Lullaby (Hozier)

“On all the ashes in my wake…”

(Holland, willing or no, is still canonly an arsonist. Also, Hozier.)

P.O.L.I.T.I.C.S. (MISSIO)

“This friendship is worse than, P-O-L-I-T-I-C-S…”

(One of the most diametric differences between Holland and Kell is their views on each other’s kingdoms.)

In The Air Tonight (Natalie Taylor)

“If you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand…”

Blood On My Name (The Brothers Bright)

“Nowhere to run, nowhere to run, nowhere to run…”

(Mood for the beginning of the final Holland vs. Kell fight in ADSOM)

One Way Or Another (Until The Ribbon Breaks)

“And if the lights are all down…”

(End of the fight, Holland’s death #1, and his fall into Black London)

Part 2- A Gathering of Shadows

Bleeding White (Avett Brothers)

“I’m bleeding gold in the streets, but there’s no one to see, because the kingdom is empty…”

(Holland’s king now.)

Kings (Tribe Society)

“I’ll take my throne, lay it on a mountain, and make myself a king…”

When They Come For Me (Linkin Park)

“And it seems ugly, but it can get worse…”

Me And Mine (The Brothers Bright)

“I will burn your kingdom down, if you try to conquer me and mine…”

(Holland making some foreign relations plans.)

Feeling Good (Michael Buble)

“It’s a new dawn, a new day, a new life…”

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (Set It Off)

“Tell me how you’re sleeping easy, how you’re only thinking of yourself…”

(Holland’s revenge arc starts.)

Choke (IDKHBTFM)

“I wouldn’t hesitate, to smile while you suffocate…”

Roman Empire (MISSIO)

“You’re an empire, the darkest of empires…”

(Holland’s view of Red London.)

My Name (Charlie Winston)

“I won't apologize for the mess that you're in, I'm gonna hide my eyes from your crimson sin…”

Liver Lungs Spleen Heart (Chris Benstead)

(Again, no lyrics, but this is the mood when Holland’s plan really starts coming into effect.)

Have It Out (Mother Mother)

“But what is he good for, if he’s just a spectator of war, I have it in for, have it in for, have it in for…”

(Holland and Kell’s “conversation” at the end of AGOS + Holland’s grudge against Kell in general.)

The Yawning Grave (Lord Huron)

“Darkness brings evil things, oh the reckoning begins…”

(The tables turn on Holland.)

Burn Him Down (Kitsch Club)

“This Woodsy’s been worn one too many a time…”

(For context, this song is about burning the suit of a retired Forest Service mascot, which in a twisted way is parallel to Osaron possessing Holland. In short, destroy the old guy because he’s damaged and worn- AKA Holland.)

Part 3- A Conjuring Of Light

The Waking Nightmare (Frankenstein World Premiere Recording)

“I’m here in the waking nightmare, and every moment tastes of death…”

Four Walls/The Ballad of Perry Smith (Bastille)

“Now we’re faced with two wrongs, I don’t know, no I don’t know…”

(Holland facing his imminent execution.)

Bring Me To Life (Evanescence)

“Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul- don't let me die here…”

(How could I not include this?)

Sin Triangle (Sidney Gish)

“I've got to work on my face now, I'm wearing shades when it's dark out, but don't you worry I'm just being cool, like everybody else around this school…”

(Holland while on the boat/observing the rest of the group.)

I’m So Sorry (Imagine Dragons)

“You’ll never know the top ‘till you get too low…”

Human (Rag’n’Bone Man)

“I’m only human, that’s all it takes, don’t put the blame on me…”

Sing To Me (MISSIO)

“Sing to me 'cause I can't hear myself, through the loudness of my own hurts…”

I Will Not Bow (Breaking Benjamin)

“And I am not proud, cold-blooded, fake, I will shut the world away…”

(The final battle with Osaron.)

Up The Wolves (The Mountain Goats)

“It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage…”

(Holland’s sacrifice.)

Part 4- Backstory/Life Flashing Before His Eyes

Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise (Avett Brothers)

“And there was a kid with a head full of doubt, so I’ll  scream ‘till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out…”

(Holland’s grand destiny.)

A Dustland Fairytale (The Killers)

“Is there still magic in the midnight sun, or did you leave it back in sixty-one, in the cadence of a young man’s eyes…”

(Holland as the Someday King.)

Borderland (John Marc McMillan)

“Help me Holy Lord, I see the light of Heaven’s porch, but so many of us are born here outside your chain-link fence…”

(Holland growing up and meeting Vortalis.)

Poor George (James Supercave)

“Poor George, poor George, he never learned how to stop…”

(Vortalis’ reign and subsequent death.)

I Knew You Once (Hollie Allen)

“Yes, I knew you once, and it was nice…”

(Holland’s past relationships and how he misses them.)

Bohemian Rhapsody (Panic! At The Disco)

“Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters…”

(Holland’s entire life flashing before his eyes, riddled with pain, power, and a refusal to submit.)

Part 5- The End

Kettering (The Antlers)

“And I didn’t believe them when they told me that there was no saving you…”

(Kell and Holland preparing to leave for White London, with Kell wishing things could be different and Holland wishing they had been.)

Never Been Alive (Avett Brothers)

“I’ve never been alive, like I am now…”

Numb (MARINA)

“And I’ll light up the sky, stars that burn the brightest fall so fast and pass you by, cough like empty lighters…”

(Holland’s final death- the end.)

Congrats to everyone who read this far- this is my first playlist, so I may have gone a bit overboard. Please enjoy, and let me know if there’s any other ADSOM characters I should do one of these for!

[tbtssstuff]

Apple Bottom Jeans || pjm

Summary: CEO Park Jimin decides he wants a night to relax and there was no better time than on his birthday and at his favorite strip joint. Luckily for him you were preforming and offering him a special birthday treat.

Pairing: CEO!Park Jimin x Stripper!Reader

Genre: Mature (18+)

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Stripping, unprotected sex (plz be safe), riding, overstimulation, some dirty talk, Jimin flirts with Tae a little, uhhh what else? I’m not sure. I think I got everything. If not plz let me know.

Masterlist

-TJ/TacoAdmin 🌮

An: Happy Birthday Jimin!

With the amount of papers sitting on Jimin’s desk he swore his head was spinning.

It was his 25th birthday and for some reason he was still working at the office. Everyone would think that owning the company would come with the perk of not working on your birthday or at least not until almost 9 pm.

Well it didn’t work that way when everyone below you was absolute idiots.

Jimin takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He was really about to lose his shit.

So he decides ‘you know what? Fuck it!’ and starts packing his things. Jimin just wanted ONE day to relax and his birthday was going to be the perfect opportunity and with no wife or girlfriend to go home to, Jimin knew exactly where to go.

He just hopes he was lucky enough that you were working.

Jimin smirks at the thought of you, the expert stripper that wiggled her way into his heart and his dreams. The amount of wet dreams he had about you was more than he could count on both of his hands.

You were a sex goddess and in there Jimin was nothing but your loyal servant, offering as much money to you as he could without bankrupting his entire company.

Now Jimin was more eager than ever to get the hell out of the office. He wants - no needs - to see you. Quickly, Jimin turns off his office light and makes his way out to his car.

Once he got to Dancing Fever, Jimin was escorted to his usual VIP seat, front and center of the stage. He situated himself as the waiter brought him his drink.

“It’s like you always know, Taehyung.”

Taehyung shakes his head, placing the drink on the table with a knowing smirk.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Park. Apple is the last girl of the night.”

“Well what am I to say? When my girl is on I have to be here to cheer her on.”

It was no secret to the staff here that Jimin was infatuated with you, but they also knew he was harmless and their best paying customer, not just tipping the girls well - you especially well - but also tipping whatever waiter he had for the night a pretty penny as well.

Indulging in his whims every now and then wouldn’t hurt.

“What brings you tonight, Mr. Park?”

Jimin waves his hand dismissively. “Jimin.”

Taehyung always insists on calling him Mr. Park no matter how many times Jimin tells him otherwise. Jimin felt close to Taehyung, like they were really good friends, but Taehyung once told him that the owner had spoken to him on several occasions to treat all customers equally.

Last names only. Nothing person. Just business.

“You know I can’t, Mr. Park.” Taehyung shakes his head.

“I know, but it was worth a shot. Anyway,” Jimin downs his drink in one go, enjoying the burn in the back of his throat, “It’s my birthday today and I sure as hell didn’t want to spend it in the office. So I’ve come hoping to see my favorite girl and guy.”

Jimin winks at Taehyung, the taller male’s face flushing a pretty shade of pink. If Jimin wasn’t so into you, he would have gone for Taehyung. He was quite the looker, with a charming smile and alluring eyes.

And an ass to boot.

Jimin has always been an ass man.

Taehyung nods and takes his leave, going to the back room where you were getting dressed for your night.

Tonight you requested the song “low” by flo rida and had dressed very appropriately with a white bralette, apple bottom jeans, and some boots with fur trimming.

Your hair was tied up into a ponytail and your makeup was a little more on the flashy side.

You looked amazing and Taehyung secretly wishes that it was just for him.

“Hey Tae!” You smile, walking over to him and hugging his chest. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Your CEO is here. Says it’s his birthday.”

“It’s Jimin’s birthday? Huh… I didn’t know that.”

Of course you didn’t, how would you? The only time you saw him was when he was handing you money to take off your clothes. Still he did it with class.

“Other than Jimin?”

“It’s pretty packed. They all want to see their Apple.”

You scoff at the stage name given to you because of your ass. Really you should have been named peach, but it was taken. Then you think of Jimin. The sexy CEO that seems to almost go bankrupt every time he comes.

He must be into you right?

Maybe for his birthday you could give him a special treat.

You just hope you didn’t misjudge him.

Quickly, you tell Taehyung your plan and while he does grimace, he agrees to help.

Jimin was just about done with his second drink when Taehyung came out of the back.

“Miss me?” Jimin teases.

“Actually, Apple wants to see you in the VIP section. I told her it was your birthday and she wants to give you a special show as a present.”

A special show? That was rare considering you refuse to do private shows for anyone. Jimin knows. He tried to request one once. The bouncer told him flat out that you didn’t do that and Jimin understood.

So for you to do this for him was an extremely pleasant surprise.

Quickly, Jimin follows Taehyung from his seat, past a few dancers, and to a big red door with a gold VIP sign hanging above it. Past the red door was a bunch of other doors lined on both sides of the room to lead into the different VIP rooms.

Taehyung leads Jimin to the very last door, holding it open. “It’ll just be a minute.” And then Taehyung leaves.

Inside the VIP room was extremely fancy, as to be expected. Red velvet walls, black carpet, a comfy looking black couch, champagne in a bucket of ice with a few wine glasses, and in the center was a stage with a pole.

“Wow.” Jimin awes at the room and didn’t seem to notice there was a second door and that you were walking through.

You smile while watching him, amused by his interest in the room. He was a CEO of a big company, he must have seen his share of fancy looking rooms yet he seems to be so fascinated by the feel of the leather couch.

“Like it?”

Your voice made Jimin turn. He bites his plush lips when he sees your outfit. God you were beautiful. Like someone took their sweet time hand crafting you.

“I think I like you better.”

“Always the charmer.” You smile and make your way over to Jimin, running your fingers down his arm before effortlessly climbing up onto the stage.

Jimin licks his lips as he takes his seat across from the stage, his eyes never leaving you.

“I heard it was your birthday.”

“You heard right, 25.”

“25? And you’re a CEO?! That’s impressive.”

Jimin chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m an impressive man.”

That he was and you wanted to find out what else he could do. You grip the pole just thinking about it.

“Well since it is your birthday and this is a special treat, you can touch as much as you like.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on his face. No one was allowed to touch the dancers, ever, it was one of the rules the club enforced heavily. The last guy that touched a girl not only got a bloody nose from said girl, but the security was brutal when they threw him out.

That girl was you.

So for you to allow Jimin to touch you as much as he likes was a big privilege and one he would not take for granted.

Music pulls Jimin out of his thoughts, his smirk widening when he hears Low come over the speakers, but his jaw drops as he watches you bend over, ass in the air with the words Apple Bottom across your cheeks.

Jimin groans, feeling all his blood rushing down south.

You start dancing to the beat of the music, twirling around the pole with ease, dropping down low, and everything in between. Jimin shifts in his seat, the strain of his hard cock against his slacks getting a little uncomfortable.

And then the first piece of your clothes come off.

Your bralette.

Your bare breasts were free and Jimin could see how hard your nipples were. What he wouldn’t give to wrap his lips around them.

Slowly, you start moving from the stage and over to him, caging him on the couch with your arms, your breast now in his face.

Jimin licks his lips and before he could bring his hand up to cup them, you turn around and bend over, now your perfect ass now inches away from his face.

That was the breaking point for Jimin. He has been envisioned touching your ass since the moment he saw you on stage. Growling low in his throat, Jimin grips both your ass cheeks in his hands, savoring the feel of his hands against the denim.

You gasp and shiver. His rough hands feel so good and they were just on the outside of your pants, you could only imagine the electric feeling it would make if he touched your skin.

“Jimin~” You whine as Jimin continues to knead his fingers into your ass cheeks, the song long forgotten.

“Look at you. So perfect.”

You whimper as one of Jimin’s hands slips from your ass to your cunt, rubbing his fingers along the rough material, swearing that he could feel just how wet you are through your jeans.

You grind your hips against his fingers, hoping to feel the sweet relief they would offer, but just as you do Jimin removes both hands from your body completely.

You were about to turn around to see what happened, but instead were met with a harsh slap on your left cheek. You let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan.

“God I’ve been imagining this ass in my face since I first saw you on stage. It helps that you’re cute too.”

You let out a laugh at his comment, but was quickly cut off by Jimin landing a smack against your other cheek. Usually you weren’t one for spanking, but when he did it.

You couldn’t get enough of it.

Jimin rubs at the place he hit before lightly tapping it this time, signaling you to stand straight. “I want these off, Dollface.”

Obeying him right away, you shuck off your boots first and then your pants, tossing them to the stage behind you. Jimin licks his lips at the fact you didn’t wear any panties. Usually if you were going on stage you would, but this is exactly what you were hoping for when you decided to give your little CEO his birthday gift.

Jimin palms himself through his black dress slacks, groaning at the feeling.

“Naughty girl.” Jimin chuckles and pulls you onto his lap, thrusting his hips up into your wet cunt. “Not wearing any panties? Hmmm? Was this what you wanted, darling?”

You whimper, hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. Of course this was what you wanted and Jimin knew it.

And he couldn’t have been happier.

“Please, Jimin.” You whine.

Jimin hums, leaning back away from you. “You know what you want, darling. Go on.”

Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly undo Jimin’s buckle and work on his zipper. Every moment that he wasn't inside you seems to feel like torture, especially because you could feel just how hard he was underneath you.

Finally freeing his cock from his slacks, you moan at the sight and feel of him in your hands. While he wasn’t that long, the girth of him made your insides clench around nothing and your mouth water.

“Well?” Jimin purrs. “Go on. Don’t be shy, baby.”

You lift your hips and sink yourself down onto Jimin’s cock. You moan out at the stretch, the burn feeling euphoric. Jimin groans, his head falling back. You were so warm and tight that Jimin feared he wouldn’t last long inside of you.

Gripping his broad shoulders, you bounce up and down on his cock, moaning each time he was buried deep inside. Jimin digs his fingers into your hips, thrusting his hips up to match your pace.

“Ah shit- fuck you’re so tight, baby!” Jimin groans.

You cry out as Jimin hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Thrust after thrust, you were getting closer and closer to the edge.

Jimin watches as you close your eyes and lose yourself. God you were beautiful and he reminds himself to take a shot and ask you out after this, but for now he’s focusing on making you cum.

Angling his hips, Jimin thrusts into you like a mad man, trying to push his own end off by thinking about anything except how amazing you feel and the fucked out look on your face.

You scream as your orgasm washes over you in waves, digging your nails into Jimin’s shoulders causing him to hiss at the pain. Jimin only slows his hips for a little bit to let you come down from your high, but the moment he sees you start to calm down, he lifts you off his cock and turns you around, pushing you down onto the table in front of him with your ass high into the air.

Jimin licks his lips at your perfect ass and throbbing cunt, savoring the sound of your pants throughout the quiet room, music long since stopped.

“J Jimin?” You try to look behind you, but the moment you try Jimin’s hand comes down harshly on your left cheek. You whine at the feeling. “W what are yo- AHH!”

A moan tears through your throat as Jimin grabs your hips and bottoms out in one swift thrust, his hips unleashing everything he was holding back.

You cry and shake your head, the pain of your sensitive pussy becoming a little too much.

“Jimin! Jimin!” His name falls off your lips in a plea, whether to stop or keep going, you weren’t sure as the pain soon turns into blinding pleasure.

“That’s right,” Jimin grunts, never slowing his pace, “Cry out my name! Let everyone know just who’s bitch you really are. Who owns this pussy, Y/n?”

You’ve lost the ability to even speak, let alone say anything coherent, your mouth gaping open in a silent scream.

“Say it!” Jimin commands and smacks his hand against your ass, “WHO owns this pussy?”

“You! Only you Jimin!” You cry out as your second orgasm hits you, faster and harder than the last.

The sudden tightness of your cunt pushes Jimin right over his edge, releasing his cum into your tight hole, an animalistic growl falling from his lips.

Jimin pulls out of you, falling back onto the couch and pulling you with him to sit on his lap. You whine at the sensitivity when your pussy brushes against his leg.

“So.” You speak up after finally able to find your voice. “Like your birthday gift?”

Jimin chuckles, running his fingers over your back mindlessly, loving how lean into him. “I did. Maybe we can continue this back at my penthouse and then maybe I could take you out to breakfast.”

“Really?”

“It would be my after birthday wish to spend the morning with you, Y/n.”

You smile and nod your head, leaning in to kiss Jimin softly.

For Jimin, this was the best birthday ever.

[ceganslilsunshine]

"Hey you." Negan smiled widely at the display in front of him, shutting the front door behind him as he spoke. "Enjoying yourself?" 

Carl innocently looked up at his dad's friend from the couch he was laying on, smirking slightly the closer the man came. He was wearing an impressively small pair of shorts and a tight fitting shirt. "Yeah." He replied simply, eyeing Negan the whole way he walked over to him. 

"Move your scrawny ass over." Negan demanded, simply lifting Carl's legs long enough for him to slide under. His hand remained wrapped around one of his slender calves as they rested on his lap. He couldn't help himself. Carl had a way of getting what he wanted. 

Negan glanced up at the television, curious to see what Carl chose to entertain himself with, and saw the opening of "law and order" flash on the screen. He scoffed. "You really like watching this shit?" He asked curiously. 

"Yeah. This or forensic files." 

"You and your weird ass shows..." Negan said nonchalantly, earning him a firm kick to the thigh. 

"Ouch" he exclaimed, feigning the pain as he dramatically rubbed his leg, "You're so mean to me! I'll tell your dad on you!" 

"Whatever." Carl grinned widely, comfortably stretching his own legs back out on Negan's lap again. "You don't even have to be here watching my "weird ass shows." I don't need a babysitter." 

"Yeah but you and I both know you're glad to see me." The man winked, rubbing Carl's calf with his thumb. The boy glared at him silently, feeling a blush creep onto his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"What do you mean by that ?" He asked, panic coming to his eyes at the possibility of him knowing. 

"I know how much you like me, kid. " The wide grin that slowly curled Negan's lips made Carl's blush intensify by tenfold. He felt his veins run cold at the realization. 

Negan chuckled, "Awww look at that pretty red face~" 

"You're an asshole." Carl bit back defensively; heart pounding. "How long have you known!?"

"Awww! Don't be like that," Negan leaned over top of Carl, wrapping his arms around him. "Awhile~ but it was fun to make you think I didn't." He reassured, pecking Carl's red cheek quickly before abruptly getting up from the couch entirely. 

Carl's hand immediately went to hold the place Negan kissed, wide eyed from the unexpected affection. Negan left him on the couch properly confused and flustered and he sat up once the man was out of view. He watched Negan make his way into the kitchen.

 "You hungry?" The man asked, completely dropping the previous subject as though it never happened as he rummaged through the refrigerator.  "Hmm.. they didn't leave many options for us to cook. Want me to order a pizza?" 

"Um, yeah okay. " Carl agreed, still quite shaken from the encounter. His mind was a fucking mess now. Negan kissed him on the cheek, so that meant he wasn't upset right? Maybe he actually didn't mind the idea- that  maybe he only did it to make him feel like everything was okay between them? Or was he just teasing him for it?..

Negan ordered the pizza quickly, and sat down on the couch adjacent to the one Carl was on. Negan was pleased with himself to see how red Carl's face was. He probably broke the poor thing with the kiss on the cheek. He was just sitting there staring off into space.Hell, the poor kid would probably cream his jeans if he gave him a real kiss. He had to admit, the idea of seeing Carl all hot and bothered for him did a lot more than it should have. To know Carl had a thing for him was just one more reason to enjoy coming over. He knew it was probably just all the hormones running through him- all the fun shit that came with being a senior just finally catching up to him. He doubted this little crush would last long, but even so, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bust the kid's balls about it. Give them something to joke about in the years to come. 

Carl was glaring daggers at him now, "so you're just going to pretend you don't know? Like before?" He asked bitterly, with a hint of fear tinging his voice.

 He didn't want Negan to think of him differently- or at least not worse. He'd been best friends with Rick for years, which was why he was asked to check up on him while he and Lori went away on a vacation for their anniversary. Him and Carl had gotten pretty close over that time too. The little teases and the compliments he made towards him were innocent to onlookers but they became much more to Carl. The lingering hugs, and the way he'd positively call him 'his baby boy'.... all of those things just added up until the poor kid was hopelessly in love with him.  

"On the contrary" Negan smirked. 

"In fact I don't think I'm gonna let you live this one down." He said with a beaming smile. 

Oh God. Carl's stomach churned. "Negan please don't- " 

 "Why not? Seeing you get all worked up over Daddy's best friend…even if it's just a little kiss on the cheek..."

 Carl's heart throbbed as he listened to the man, his blue eyes focused on the wolfish ones staring back. He cursed himself for ever thinking of Negan as anything more than the dick he was. 

 "…showing off in those tiny little shorts for me…" he continued. "Like you're just waiting for me to feel you up. Don't pretend I don't know what you've been trying to do, kid. It's no secret to me."

"Stop…" Carl said, suddenly very self conscious. He thought Negan would like them, that in some sick way, he'd actually take pleasure in seeing him wear them. He was so, so wrong.  He didn't expect to be made fun of by him either though. He'd seen the way he'd reduced others to tears with his relentless tormenting, but he'd never been on the receiving end before. Negan was the person he went to for everything. He couldn't help but feel hurt that he was belittling his feelings this way.

Embarrassment turned his cheeks a deeper shade of crimson, and all he wanted to do was run away. 

" Tell me Carl, you ever think about me sneaking up into your room at night and crawling into bed with you, or you sitting on my lap while I tell you what a good boy you are? Bet you'd just love calling me Daddy, huh ?" The man poked further, laughing at the look of panic and despair that Carl had. 

"That's…  not funny." He felt like he was stripped naked before him- nothing hiding his most hidden desires and Negan was exploiting them for his own amusement. He used it as ammunition to hurt him with, and took pleasure in doing so, like he did with everyone else. Carl thought he was off limits to that kind of treatment. He thought he was special to Negan... His heart completely shattered. 

Carl suddenly got up from the couch, hiding his face behind his long hair and he tried to speak."Why- how could you think what I feel for you is funny?" 

"Aww, I'm only playing." Negan reassured teasingly, but he realized a beat too late that maybe he'd misjudged the kid. His grin slowly faded.

 As much as he got off on seeing Carl get flustered, he could tell he'd genuinely upset him this time. "Oh shit kid…" he sighed, "Carl I didn't realize…" 

He could see moisture glazing over Carl's eyes and he knew he made a big fucking mistake. The sight alone made his heart drop. "Carl… I was only playing! I didn't know you actually cared that much- " 

Carl stormed off towards the stairwell, utterly humiliated and broken hearted. "Fuck you, Negan." Carl interrupted quietly, in a voice so unlike his own. He held back his tears of frustration as he disappeared up the steps.  

"Carl." Negan called back desperately. "get your ass back here..." 

Negan heard the boy's bedroom door slam shut and he couldn't help but groan. Guilt filled his chest. He wasn't sure how the hell to fix this one… 

The pizza arrived not long after and Negan cursed at himself when the kid didn't come back down. He was too pissed off at himself to eat. He tossed it into the fridge before deciding he should go. 

-_-_-_-_-_-

"What's going on with you and Carl lately?" Rick asked curiously, making his final shot at Negan's pool table, winning the game.  "you guys get in a fight or something?" 

Negan sighed at the mention of it. "I was fucking around, like I always do… went too far this time." 

Rick's face scrunched in a mixture of concern and confusion, "what do you mean?" 

"I told him I knew he had a thing for me and I was teasing him about it. I was just busting his balls but... I hurt him pretty bad. I broke his fucking heart, Rick." He admitted honestly, rubbing his temple to help release the tension he felt in his head. 

"Oh." Was all the man said, understanding completely. He recalled the conversation they once had about the way Carl was when it came to Negan. He knew Carl had a huge crush on him, and tried to protect his little secret from Lori as much as he could. God knows what would have happened if she found out he was into him. "I can't say I'm not happy about it. Carl needed to get over his little crush on you."

"I wouldn't call it little. I thought it was just teenage hormones n shit… but fuck...watching him walk away made me feel like shit" Negan said, staring up at the wall on his garage. "I made him cry, Rick... I made my boy cry. I don't want to be the asshole that broke his heart for the first time... "

"You've broken plenty of hearts." He reminded him with a pointed look. Negan was a hardcore player. At least he used to be when they first met. It cracked him up to hear about all the girls had he left behind (and maybe felt a little bad for them too) But with Carl? As bad as he felt for saying it, he knew it needed to happen. " that explains why hes been held up in his room at least." 

Dammit. He audibly sighed. He almost wished Rick didn't tell him that he'd locked himself away from the world.  Negan's chest ached knowing how badly he'd scorned him.

 "Yeah, but Carl's my little badass. I hate the idea of him not wanting to come around me anymore. I said some really insensitive shit..." 

"He'll get over it. He's a tough kid." 

"Yeah…. I hope so." Negan said just to end the conversation. He couldn't let Rick know how much he was dwelling on it. He wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with him. The thought of Carl getting over him shouldn't bother him as much as it did. He was way too young for him. Not to mention the fact that his dad was his best friend AND the town sheriff. It had fucked up written all over it but he couldn't help but want to apologize and give the poor kid everything he wanted and more. He fucking loved that boy. He never wanted to hurt him.  

It had been a few weeks since he saw Carl, and it wasn't for lack of trying. He would text him and get nothing back.

Rick would let him know he was going to Negan's house and asked if he wanted to come, or he'd let him know he'd be over for the evening and that Negan wanted to see him. Nothing. 

 Negan would even make it a point to show up a bit earlier than normal just to catch a glimpse of the little brat. No luck there. Even Rick was starting to get worried. Lori had given up on trying to get him out of his room days ago. By this time, Negan was fucking desperate to see him. Between the constant dreams involving him and the heartache he had, there was no way in hell he could deny how much he missed his boy. The guilt was fucking killing him. 

Enough was enough one morning when Negan decided he was going to see Carl one way or another. It was a Saturday morning, and Negan came over bright and early with the excuse of wanting to go with Rick to a department store. 

"Alright where's that boy at? I'm tired of not seeing his angsty ass." He demanded. 

Rick shook his head with a chuckle. "He's still in bed. Probably wont be up for another hour or two at least." 

"Huh." Negan said,"Looks like Carl's gonna get one hell of a wake up call then." He said matter of factly as he sauntered towards the stairs. 

"You're gonna piss him off even worse." Rick warned with a hint of amusement to his voice. 

"He can be as pissed off as he wants but he's going with us today." He called back from half way upstairs. Once he got to the second floor, he immediately walked to the bedroom he knew was Carl's and pounded on the door a couple times. 

Carl was woken abruptly by the sound of someone banging on his door. He scrambled to sit up just as he heard a familiar voice shout, "Good morning sunshine~" 

A pit filled his stomach. "Negan?" He asked incredulously as the door slammed open and revealed the figure on the other side. He walked in uninvited and Carl, lethargic and on edge, shouted, "What the hell are you doing in my room?" 

"Getting your mopey ass out of bed, that's what." He said, tugging the blankets away from Carl. "You're coming with us today whether you like it or not."

"No. Leave me alone." Carl grabbed the blanket from Negan's hand and flopped back down with it. The stubborn man kept ahold of it, and purposefully ended up on the bed too. 

"Get off." Carl demanded, flipping around to avoid looking at the man sitting beside him. 

"Not a chance kid." Negan stayed firm. "I haven't seen or heard from you in weeks. You're getting your ass up and spending time with me."

"I don't want to." Carl bit back, "you're a fucking asshole." 

Ouch. Okay. So maybe it was a lot worse than he thought. "Carl." Negan began once more, much softer this time, "I admit it. I was an asshole. I got carried away and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, kid." 

"What the hell ever. I told you to stop and you just kept going."

"Fucking hell, kid.." the man sighed, placing a hand on Carl's arm. "I thought you just wanted the attention like every other hormonal teen. I wouldn't have said that shit if I knew how serious you were… I felt like shit about it after I saw how bad I hurt you. " 

Carl remained quiet, unsure what to say and the annoying burning sensation of tears in his eyes only made him feel worse. 

"Baby boy" Negan whined, laying down and curling an arm around him. Carl was still warm and soft from sleep, and Negan couldn't help but want to kiss that bony shoulder that poked out of his oversized shirt. "I mean it. I'm sorry." 

"Fine. You're sorry." Carl sighed begrudgingly, "Just stop calling me that…" 

"Why?" Negan protested, "I've always called you my baby boy." 

"It's different now…" Carl wasn't proud of the fact he'd gotten off to Negan calling him that and now the words became a sore reminder of what he'd been made fun off.

"Oh, is that right? " Negan huffed quietly. The man hummed in thought. Maybe the kid actually did have a bit of a daddy kink after all. He couldn't stop his mischievous grin from forming. No wonder the kid reacted so dramatically when he pulled that card… 

"different how?"

"You know what I mean. I'm not going to spell it out for you." 

"Oh I see…" Negan grinned widely, "So you like it when I call you that, sweetheart?" The man propped himself up on an elbow while his other hand gently ran across Carl's arm. 

If Carl wasn't awake before, he certainly was now. He hadn't heard Negan talk to him in that voice before. "More than I should have." He said honestly, not seeing how there could be any more damage from telling the truth. The low chuckle behind him startled him a bit. It wasn't like the ones from before.

"So you probably have thought about calling me daddy then..." Negan mused. The idea was pretty fucking hot if he was going to be honest.

There was no real bite to his words as he turned to face him. "I thought you said you weren't going to make fun of me for it."

"That's a yes." the man smiled widely. 

"For someone trying to apologize for being a dick you're not doing a very good job at it." Carl huffed back quietly. 

"I know." The man grinned, happy to at least be able to see his boy's face. "I've missed you kid." He murmured honestly, bringing a hand to rest on one of Carl's red tinted cheeks. 

"Me too…" the boy murmured back, shyly. 

 Silence fell over them both for several moments before Negan made the decision to press a soft kiss to Carl's forehead. "You're still going to be my baby boy, Carl… that's not changing. No matter what okay?" Especially now that he knew how much Carl really felt about it. 

The sincerity of Negan's voice caught him off guard. He searched Negan's eyes for any sign indicating that he wasn't serious,  but there was none. "Okay." 

When Negan focused on those big, glossy doe eyes looking at him so lovingly,  it was game over. His heart swelled at the sight and there was no denying how much the kid cared for him… how much he cared for Carl.

This whole thing had wrong written all over it but hell, his body moved before his brain did, and somehow his lips were now firmly planted on Carl's. 

Carl's mind went blank, besides the galaxies bursting behind his eyes at the realization of what was happening. His mouth instinctively kissed back, slowly and softly, as though savoring each sensation he felt. His whole body caught fire, and Negan felt the boy shiver from head to toe. 

Fuck, he didn't think kissing could feel like this again. He felt like a fucking teenager with his heart pounding so hard and out of breath. It was like Carl's mouth was made for his, and his alone. His mouth moved languidly with Carl's as he felt slender arms curl around his neck. By the time they pulled away for a gasp of air, they were both red faced and panting with want. 

Carl caught his breath, with his mouth agape. He knew Negan just crossed a huge line for him, and he could hardly process what that meant exactly. Not twenty minutes ago he hated the idea of coming face to face with him, and now they were laying in his bed panting. "N-negan. You?…" 

"Yeah." Negan whispered in confirmation, as he sat up. He looked at Carl with a serious expression, "but this shit stays between us okay? Get your ass out of bed and get some clothes on. You're coming with us." 

"O-okay." 

[amor-immortalem]

My Adoring Fan ch. 3

Chapter 2 chapter 4

“Damn it. I keep missin’ the door handle...” The half demon grumbled as she kept reaching for the knob. Eventually, it occurred to her that maybe she should use her right hand to feel around for it and open it that way. As she opened the door, she stuck her head in the door way, not wanting to invade her favorite human’s space fully.

“Maaaaaax, can I ask a favor of you?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Max teased before turning her attention to the cambion, “What do you need, Sunshine?”

As slight blush crossed her cheeks at the nickname, “I was, uh.... I was wondering... if you’d watch while I cook ta make sure I don’t hurt myself...” Azalea looked down, embarrassed. She had just been making a fuss about feeling like she was being babied and now here she was, asking for help when she could do it herself if she tried hard enough.

“Yeah sure. I thought it was your brother’s turn to cook tonight?” She sets the spell book she was studying down.

“He’s not doin’ too hot right now... So he asked if I would do it instead since Zulima’s not allowed anywhere near the kitchen when it comes to cooking dinner.”

“How about I cook tonight instead and you can help me?” The human offered. “I live here too so there’s no reason I can’t cook in place of one you two. By the way your cousins not that bad of a cook. I find it to be enjoyable actually.”

“Are... Are we eating the same cooking?”

“You two are just picky,” She stuck her tongue out at Azalea and Azalea repeated the action.

“C’mon then, let’s go before Hakan starts to destroy the house. Snacks will only satisfy the kid for so long.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Max rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“That’s what she said,” The half-demon laughs at her own joke

“Azalea!”

“Bye!” The girl takes off, heading toward the kitchen.

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

“Heya, weeb supreme, what’s got ya so bent out of shape?” Azalea asks as she ruffles Henry’s purple hair.

“My favorite idol is going on hiatus and she has no plans to come back yet” The boy’s eyes were wet with tears. “How could she do this to her fans.”

“Bruh... she’s a person too. Maybe she just wants a break, did ya ever think of that?”

“Yeah but she could have told us sooner instead of just dipping on us like that!” Henry puffs out his cheeks. "A normie like you wouldn’t understand what it feels like to just be abandoned like that.”

“What did you say?” She asks as a threatening aura emanating from her. “Pretty bold of ya considerin’ you’re scared of everything up to your own shadow.”

“N-Nothing,” He squeaks. “Sorry.”

“Thought so. Now off with ya. Go play some games or somethin’.”

Henry nodded and scrambled out of the kitchen as Max came in.

“What’s his deal?” She asks.

“Oh nothin’,” Azalea smiled. “Just angsty weeb things, nothin’ to worry ‘bout.

“Mhm, sure,” Max was doubtful. “Just get the good out alright?”

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

“Yo, ‘Relius, how ya feeling?” Azalea barged into her twin's room before promptly running into the side of his desk. “Oww,”

“You just do not learn, do you?” The younger twin chuckles at the ridiculous of the scene. “Why don’t you have that dumb stick the doctors gave you so you know what’s in front of you on that side?”

“’Cuz its stupid. I got one eye left so I don’t need it.” Azalea pouts as she rubs her hip where she bumped into the desk.”

“You very clearly do considering you misjudged where my desk was and the amount of lamp posts you ran into on our way to school last term.” Aurelius sighs, “If you go back home with any more bruises from running in to shit, you’re gonna give Dad a stroke.”

“Eh, I’ll figure it out eventually. He worries too much.”

“Whatever you say, ‘Zay, whatever you say. Anyway, I’m doing better, thanks for asking. Has Henry stopped fussing over that idol yet?”

“Prolly not. Who knows with him...” She shrugs. “So, about that letter...”

“You’re not fighting anybody.” Aurelius shuts her down quickly, “I don’t even know who sent it other than an initial.”

“Boo, you whore,” She made her way over to his bed and plopped down on it. “Anywho, peppers are in the oven. Max cut ‘em for me and I stuffed ‘em.”

“Thought you wanted to do everything by yourself? Or is it different with her?” He teased.

“Shaddup!” Azalea threw his pillow at him. “It ain’t like that okay?”

“Suuuuure,” He laughed as his sister’s face turned beet red. “We all know the truth, Simp.”

“Stoooop! She’s just my friend!”

“But you don’t want her to be~” he says in a loud sing-song voice, hoping Max might overhear them, “Admit it ‘Zalea. You’ve got a crush.”

“Lower your voice and stop teasing me!”

“Not until I hear you say it.” He smiles.

“You’re a sadist, ya know that? Why do you do this to your only sister?!”

“Because it’s fun for me. Now say it.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” the older half-demon groans, “I've got a crush on my friend.” It's said in a mumble.

“Huh? Couldn’t hear you. Could you say that again?” Unknown to her, Aurelius had started recording her confession.

“I said I have a crush on Max! There I said it! Happy?” She practically yells as her face turns an even deeper shade of red.

“Oh, yes I am.” He chuckles as he stops recording and Azalea realizes the mistake she’s made.

“You delete that right now!”

“Come over here and make me.” He gets up and pockets his phone as she dives at him.

With a quick dodge to the right where she can’t see him, Aurelius books it down the hall and down the stairwell. Azalea gives chase but runs smack dab into a wall which buys the younger twin more time to get out of the house. As he passes the common room where everyone is hanging out waiting for dinner, he yells out,

“I’m going out. My sister’s going to kill me. Don’t wait up.” And with that he’s out the door and dashing down the sidewalk and into the night.

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

She was doing her last-minute shopping before the new school term started next week. As she shouldered her bags, the now on hiatus idol steps out of the shop when she gets nearly run over by Aurelius who was still trying to put as much distance between him and Azalea as possible.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” He says as he helps her up, he’s slightly out of breath. “I should have been watching where I was going.”

She’s a little starstruck as she stares up at him. She was hoping they would meet soon, she just never thought they would literally crash into each other. “I- Oh no, I’m alright. Don’t worry about it. What about you? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m alright,” he smiled. “Thanks for asking though.” Aurelius keeps looking behind him for any signs of his sister.

“Were you running from someone...” She pretends not to know his name. She needs a reason to introduce herself after all.

“Yeah, my sister. I have something she really doesn’t want anyone hearing.” He doesn’t introduce himself, assuming she already knew who he was which wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. “I assume you already know my name, but I’ve never seen you around town before... Are you new here?”

“No, I don’t. And yes, I’m transferring to RAD this term.” The succubus thinks she has a pretty good poker face but he gives her an odd look- like he’s surprised. “My name’s Persephone, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Persephone.” he thinks she lying but she has no tells that he can recognize. If she is, maybe she’s only lying so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable for nearly plowing over a fan of his.

“You really don’t know who I am? Do you read DevilStyle teen?” Persephone only shakes her head, another bald-faced lie. “Well, that’s refreshing. My name’s Aurelius.” he holds a hand out to her with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The succubus takes his hand and shakes it with a smile on her face but internally she’s screaming.

“So which dorm are you in?”

“The House of Sorrow.” Her response makes him stop.

The House of Sorrow? And her name starts with a ‘P’... Oh.... Oh no. Okay, play this cool, man. Don’t act weird about this. She seems normal enough so maybe it’s not her. Ahh but it’s as Uncle Asmo always says: ‘Crazy hides well underneath normal’.

“AURELIUS! WHERE’D YOU GO, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

“And that’s my cue. Sorry to cut this short but I have to get moving.” He says as he brings his demon form out. “Maybe we’ll have classes together at school. I’ll see you around, Persephone.” He hopes they don’t. In fact, if she is ‘P’, he hopes they never meet again but he’s trying to act personable. “Bye!” And as soon as he came, he was gone- soaring high into the sky. “By the way, you might want to take a few steps back! My sister’s about to come barreling through here in a matter of seconds!

The former idol can only nod as she thinks he looks even more beautiful in person.

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

find more on my masterlist

[jimlingss]

Ghost in the Machine

➜ Words: 14.4k

➜ Genres: 100% Mild Angst, Android!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Namjoon is your android that’s modified to become the best serial killer in all of existence. But when he starts to learn about humanity, he begins to threaten your goals.

➜ Warnings: Explicit descriptions of murder and lots of it, gruesome details.

Namjoon opens his eyes.   The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. And you greet him. “Hello. What is your name?”   “Kim Namjoon,” he answers without needing to think twice.   “Perfect.” You shift back so your face is no longer millimeters away from his and inspecting him closely. Your arms are placed behind your back and your chin lifts. “Do you know why you have been created?”   It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I was created to kill.”

Namjoon is an android. Model 120994 specifically. He has sharp sensors and agile actuators. But over the wires, harddrives and machinery that drive his thoughts and movements is a skin-like texture that hides his true identity from the naked eye. His face has also been shaped to be perceived positively and the most likeable — blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks.   Beyond a physical sense, Namjoon is advanced for what he is. He can understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He is a humanoid robot with self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently, and interact with the world around him as any other human can.    And his sole function is for extermination.   “Who will I kill first?” Namjoon asks as he follows you to your modest living space — it is empty and white, lacking furniture and seemingly sterile. But he pays no mind to trivial details and cuts straight to the point only minutes after being activated in order to complete his task in the most efficient manner.   “Min Junseo,” you answer and hand him a file folder that contains relevant information and a photograph as reference. “You are programmed to know the procedure, correct?”   “Puncture the carotid artery for the quickest death,” he replies instantly in a monotone voice.   You nod and your lips slightly quirk in satisfaction — it makes him glad to know he has appeased you. “They are deserving individuals and worthy of elimination.”   “I understand,” he says despite not needing your reasoning in the first place. You are his creator after all. He will simply do as you say.   //   Within hours of the android’s awakening, he is already on the move to annihilate the first target.    He lingers in the dark alley, standing motionlessly in the corner where the light from the street does not cast its shine. There are littered bottles discarded on the ground, cigarettes snubbed out, the dumpster not far from where he is and where you watch behind him.   The door to the back of the bar finally opens.   The music is deafening until it becomes muffled again when the steel doors shut, squeaking on its hinges. A woman has emerged and she leans against the graffitied brick wall, reaching into her pocket for a white pack. She places a cigarette between her red lips and takes out a lighter, thumb flicking at the tiny wheel a few times before the end is lit and she takes a few puffs.   But then her eyes stray and she notices the two shadows in the corner of the alley. Her eyes widen as she feels your heavy gazes and she quickly walks towards the street where the light is, glancing over her shoulder a few times before disappearing.    Namjoon never once breathes — he doesn’t need to.   He merely stands there without blinking, like a stone statue, waiting patiently…...patiently...and eventually, the target exits the door. The man is holding trash bags in both hands, a red vest adorning his body with black trousers, name tag on the top left of his chest.    He is a waiter at the bar Namjoon had been stalking. Min Junseo: A thirty years old male, height of one hundred seventy six centimeters and weight of sixty three kilograms, blood type O negative, allergic to penicillin, a high school graduate, no children or spouses.   You stand on the tips of your toes, breath against his ear. “Now.”   And the android does not hesitate to barrel straight forward.   Right when the waiter tosses the bags into the dumpster, he turns at the sound of footsteps and his greeting is immediately muffled by Namjoon’s palm. The male android turns the human target around, kicking the back of his knee until the man’s kneeling and one of Namjoon’s arms wrap around the man’s shoulders, holding him still.    Namjoon takes the sharp blade out from his pocket. He places the edge below Junseo’s left ear with the handle alongside his chin, prepared to be pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle will rotate a little towards the opposite side during the draw so the neck muscles wouldn’t interfere with the cut.    But before Namjoon completes his task, he pauses beforehand.    For a mere moment as Min Junseo squirms in his tight grasp.   Junseo’s shrieks and screams are muted, arms restricted by the android’s hold. The man’s eyes are bulging from their sockets, fear and terror making him squeal like a pig, muscles trembling unwillingly.    And then Namjoon slits the man’s throat in one fluid motion.    It shears unbelievably easily and in the database of the android’s information, he could compare it to running scissors over wrapping paper or sticking a knife into soft butter. The skin and tissue of Junseo split and the external carotid artery is severed.   Namjoon registers that it feels wet and warm, his hands dampened in a downpour of blood. Junseo relaxes in his hold and Namjoon lets go, stepping back to watch the results of his actions.   Junseo puts his hands up, scratching his skin until his nails are clawing where the clean slit sits at his neck. He presses his palms against the wound but blood squirts past his fingertips. It sprays, a viscous fluid in a shade of crimson that almost looks akin to black in the darkness of the alleyway. The blood sputters and pours to the ground while Junseo struggles to get to his feet.   He barely manages to turn around. He makes disgruntled, inhumane noises as his eyes lay onto Namjoon’s blank ones as if he was trying to say something. But it isn’t audible when the man is gagging and gasping, choking on his own blood that’s accumulated into his mouth.   Finally Junseo loses consciousness and collapses backwards onto the ground. The blood oozes out around him in a pool, the sticky liquid bleeding to the gravel and rocks, turning it red. It drips off of Namjoon’s hands too, slowly drying and tinting his skin in a bright scarlet.   “You can leave the knife there,” you say to him, standing beside and looking at the disposed body. “There’s no need to take it with us.”   “I understand.”   The two of you leave the corpse in the alley and disappear as quickly as you came.   //   The old television plays in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It appears old and vintage — Namjoon is unable to identify what exact model it is. Though he notes that it is also a contrast to the clean and sterile environment you have created in your home, but he does not dwell on unnecessary findings.   It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner. Then suddenly there’s a flash and some graphics on the screen.   “Breaking news. One hour ago, a thirty year old man by the name of Min Junseo, was found brutally murdered in the back alley of the local bar he worked at. According to police, the perpetrators may still be around the area and has urged everyone to remain inside.”   “Sources tell us that there are speculations that this homicide may have connections to the Ghost Serial Killer who has run rampant in the past five years, leaving a string of murders without DNA evidence or fingerprints of any kind. However police will not confirm if this is indeed the act of the Ghost Serial Killer and have no suspects at the moment.”   The other man nods at his fellow anchor. “They have urged everyone to take caution and to stay inside for the night.”   Namjoon turns to you with an impassive expression. “Have they misjudged the perpetrator?”   “Yes. They’re confused.” You shift to the android with the corner of your mouth quirked. “It’s not cause for concern. If anything, it’s better for us. We can continue like this.”   The android nods. Indeed, it works to both your advantages if the police link the homicide to an unrelated serial killer. But there are still questions he desires clarification on to continue in the most efficient manner. “May I inquire as to why we did not dispose of the body?”   You shake your head. “The family members must know that they’ve received justice. If they think he’s gone missing then we have not fulfilled our purpose.”    “I understand.” Namjoon receives the information and turns to you completely. “Who is the next target?”   The corners of your mouth pull into a bigger smile at his keenness. “They are not ready yet, but they will be in one week.”   “Then is there any task you would like me to complete in the meanwhile?”   You seem to contemplate for a second, hands behind your back, head tilted for a second. Then you shake your head once more. “No. You may have free-range and do as you wish.”   //   Namjoon is an adaptable and versatile mechanism, but he finds it difficult to preoccupy himself during his free time. It is not necessary for him to eat or sleep — all the maintenance required of him is to charge his battery every once in a while for approximately two hours. However in his spare time, it is challenging finding tasks to complete that is productive and helpful to you.   The android leaves you in the working room where you retire for long periods, recognizing that you wish to be left undisturbed.   So he decides to stare at the white wall for a few hours, sitting on the edge of his mattress, before he begins to wander the expanse of your home to collect information.    You live in an apartment at the side of the metropolis, a secluded location at the end of the hall on the top floor that is without neighbours. It suits your behaviour as you are reclusive.   The fridge is predominantly empty save for some water and spoiled cabbage. Your kitchen is white, clean, and seemingly undisturbed. The table has also collected a thin layer of dust, chairs unmoved with how the floor seems to dent where the legs have stood for a long time. Your bathroom is also sanitary and spotless, toothpaste full and toothbrush untouched.    The only place that looks occupied is the couch in front of the vintage television where the afghan is not perfectly folded after use.   After his inspection, Namjoon reads the dictionaries and encyclopedias, he sits down and downloads more scripts and relevant information into his himself that may be of assistance to you.   It is six days into his week-long time of having free-range that Namjoon stands at the window to observe the humans below and notices a spider on the windowsill.    A brown recluse spider. Lifespan one to two years. They are arachnids and rank seventh in total species diversity among all orders of organisms. They are carnivores, scientific name araneae.   Namjoon’s arm extends and the eight-legged creature slowly moves from his finger into his palm. His fingers curl into a fist, but Namjoon never tightens it. No.    He opens his hand again and then cups it with the other.   The android views the small creature in fascination, looking closely where he can see the spider’s tiny hairs and little eyes. He holds the spider and lets it dance around his skin, crawling over his arm. The corner of the android’s lips quirk before he moves to the window again.   Namjoon opens it and releases the spider outside, mentally bidding it farewell.   At the same time, his senses register the noises coming from the hall and turns in time to see you emerge. You greet him and at once, he recognizes your low energy levels.    “Good afternoon, Y/N. Have you slept recently?”   “No, I haven’t.” You give him a small smile that indicates a friendly demeanour and that his question did not violate any social norms.    “Then you should. Sleep deprivation negatively affects brain function and a variety of other parts, such as the immune system.”   “You’re right.” You nod at the android in appreciation. “Thank you for the reminder. I almost didn’t notice since I’ve been so busy.”   “I can prepare food for you if you would like. I know a number of recipes.”   “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.” You hand over the manila file in your grasps, moving from the futile subject of your well-being. “I finally have the second target prepared. Her name is Jeon Yemin.”   Namjoon receives the papers and opens it up. At the top of the pile, he finds a school picture of a girl with black long hair and doe eyes. “Do you have a date planned for her elimination?”   “Saturday. Is that enough time for you?”   “Yes.”   //   It is the day before the planned death that you have taken Namjoon out to scout the target. It’s not unusual given that the first target, Min Junseo, was observed by him for several hours. But it is unusual that Namjoon is in public with you, not in the darkness of an alley but somewhere where others could potentially scrutinize him. Namjoon isn’t used to it, so he treads carefully.    Considering that this second target did not have a workplace or a consistent pattern of behaviour, it was vital to watch and plan accordingly.   “She’s going on a school trip tomorrow,” you inform him through a quiet murmur that his sharp sensors pick up on. “Her parents will be unaware of her activity for a handful of hours.”   “I see.”   Jeon Yemin is the second target. She is sixteen years old, a current student attending Yeonmi High School. One hundred sixty two centimeters tall and fifty four kilograms heavy, blood type A positive. She isn’t an honour roll student, but somehow obtained a scholarship with B average grades. She is a mediocre volleyball player and often travels abroad for weeks at a time on family vacations by the looks of her social media. Her most recent destination was Osaka, Japan during Winter break. By her banking information, she is to inherit a trust fund when she is of age.   Namjoon muses she will be an easy kill as he watches her enter a clothing store in the mall.    She is with two other girls, presumably friends but by the way their eyes crinkle when they smile, Namjoon observes that they are forcing positive reactions to whatever she is saying.   The girl must not be well liked by her peers — therefore she will not be missed.   “Nam—...Namjoon?”   There is a disruption to his left and his head whirls over, attention captured by the call of his name. It is a stranger that is slowly approaching him, a seventy year old man with poor posture that staggers forward with a cane in hand. Bright eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp nose, but his skin is wrinkled and round spectacles that are smudged sit on his face awkwardly.   Namjoon searches his database within a millisecond but is unable to identify the man.   And as the senior comes closer, his frown only deepens and his eyes narrow.   Immediately, you place a hand on Namjoon’s arm and usher him away. The android does not hesitate to follow where you are bringing him, in the opposite direction of the senior citizen who croaks out to no avail until the two of you are gone and a nurse brings him back to the group.   “Do you know who that was?” Namjoon inquires you.   “I am unsure.”   “He knew of my name.”   “It doesn’t matter,” you scold and stop. Namjoon is high on alert, recognizing your irritation and annoyance. He realizes he must prevent you from experiencing those emotions. “You must not lose sight of the goal. You have one purpose and only one purpose.”   Namjoon nods at once. “I understand.”   //   Namjoon and you have been seated in the car since before dawn, sitting calmly in your seats while watching the front door of Jeon Yemin’s house. He had insisted that you slept while he kept watch, but you dismissed his advice and sat in silence with him for hours. Timing was of the essence after all and he’s gained enough sense of this target to calculate her movements.   Jeon Yemin is a privileged girl with an abundance of wealth but a desire to be accepted in a social circle of friends. She will reject being driven to her school trip in her parent’s expensive car, but instead opt to walk to the bus stop to meet with classmates there and arrive at school. The ten minute walk to the stop is where the both of you will grab your opportunity.   The way in which you confirm this plan only assures the android this is the best course of action.   “There she is.” You sit straighter, turning to Namjoon as the student is seen shutting the door behind her with her backpack slung over one shoulder before strolling down the safe neighbourhood street. “Earlier than her normal routine. It was good we were keeping watch.”   “Yes.” Namjoon observes the temperature on the dashboard and finds the outside to be low enough. “Should I begin?”   “Wait two minutes.”   Namjoon begins counting.   The car that you were in was registered to a man from across the country, an old farmer that has no relation to the soon-to-be victim. The paperwork simply needed to be filled and filed, easy to use for the purpose of this short trip. There was no flaw in your planning whatsoever and Namjoon finds you competent for that — but he already knew you were competent the moment he opened his eyes.   You created him after all.   Namjoon fires up the engine and begins to drive below the speed limit.   At the same time, you roll down the window and he stops right where the high schooler is walking. Jeon Yemin turns her head at the sound and halts as well.   “Excuse me,” you call out and motion her over. Yemin follows to stand right at your window. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know where Burtons Place is? We’re looking for 346 Burtons Place.”   “Oh.” The high schooler smiles, happy to prove herself useful. She points down the street. “It’s that way and then you take a left at Earlstone Crescent and then at the second road down, you take a right and it should be there.”   “Pardon me? A right at Earstone Crescent and then a right after the first?” You attempt to mimic her gestures and Namjoon observes, musing that you are quite good at deception. He smiles to appear friendly.   “Oh, no, it’s called Earlstone and it’s the second road down. Do you need me to show you?” Yemin smiles, her hamartia of wanting to be liked trickling down to the smallest of her acts. “I’m actually walking to the bus stop at Burtons Place.”   “That would be very helpful, thank you.”   Yemin gets into the backseat of the car.    The temperature outside was cold enough that the girl visibly eases in the toastiness of the vehicle — it is clear she has been pampered in her life as she unconsciously desires to be inside of a car and away from the chilly wind.    Perhaps your planning has also aided her subconscious into getting the vehicle. By picking a day that her mood would be undoubtedly good and she’s unguarded, dressing both you and him in her favourite brand, choosing an expensive car to drive in, and mimicking her body language, you had made the decision for her before she had the conscious choice of it.   “We’re newlyweds and visiting his mom for the first time,” you graze Namjoon’s arm affectionately while turning around to regard her with a smile. “So we’re a bit lost and the GPS can never get it right. I’m sorry for being such a bother.”   Your lies only put her at further ease. A friendly, young couple like you and Namjoon with polished appearances, attractive faces and apparent wealth would never seek to harm her.   “Oh, no, it’s fine.” Yemin bats her hand, obviously glad to be the person who knows most in this vehicle. “I don’t mind at all. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way.”   Namjoon glances in the rear-view, smiles until dimples press into his cheeks and he begins driving down the road. The radio plays some chirpy pop music, the car doors lock and the girl leans forward unsuspectingly. “Take a left here.”   He turns left and continues to drive. You face forward, leaning back.   “Okay, you can take a right here—o-oh. You missed it.”   “We can turn around,” you mutter halfheartedly.   But Namjoon continues to drive.   The girl becomes quieter, her body language timid and fearful. She waits for the U-turn, for the car to turn around and go back to where you said it was supposed to go. But it never comes and her voices of protest that this is the wrong way go unheard.   Soon, the avenues and streets become unfamiliar. “W-Where are you taking me?”   She gets no answers as the car merges to an empty highway.   Yemin frantically pulls out her cell phone from her pocket with trembling hands. She sobs out as it falls on the ground, but quickly snatches it up again. She begins to type a text to her friend, but it never sends. She cries in frustration and tries calling her dad, but it doesn’t go through.   “Your sim card has been deactivated,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time since the plan initiated. The girl is visibly shaken and her phone falls into her lap. “You won’t get wifi out here either, so you won’t get data connection at all.”   “You can try calling the police,” you snicker and turn around to pout at her as if you were sympathizing. “But you won’t have any reception out here and even if you did somehow manage to, it's nearly impossible for emergency services to locate a person without active service.”   Yemin begins to sob. She whirls her head around and grasps onto the doors, but they’re locked. She manually unlocks it, but it’s still unable to be opened when the child lock is engaged.   The girl hits her fists against the windows to no avail and then begins crying harder.   Namjoon drives for ten full minutes, out in the middle of nowhere with just green prairies and rolling hills without a person in sight. But his hands on the wheel begin to tighten when she starts begging for her life. “My parents will give you whatever you want. I...I have nothing!”   There is something in the back of the android’s mind that he attempts to process but is unable to. “Pl—Please don’t hurt me! Please!”   But he feels as if he has experienced this before. “Please!”    “Don’t do this,” Yemin weeps and Namjoon gets a flash, recalling how his hands tighten on the wheel before, how you were seated beside him, how another woman was in the backseat and cried— “Why are you doing this?”   “Just call my dad!” — “I have a family!”   “I’ll do whatever you want!” — “What is it that you want from me?”   But it is absurd. Déjà vu is rejected by mainstream scientific approaches. The voice that he vaguely hears in his mind must be a projection, perhaps a malfunction or his assumptions for how humans in this situation would respond is flawed in stressful circumstances.   Namjoon brushes it away.   The car is parked thirteen kilometers from her home, parked behind trees and the girl is dragged out from the backseat into a field. She struggles against Namjoon’s hold, but to no avail.   “Please! I have a f-family! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”   She is crying hysterically, screaming at the top of her lungs for no one to hear. Her legs tremble until her entire body is quivering like a leaf, three seconds from pissing herself with how terrified she is.    Namjoon takes out the knife and places the edge below Yemin’s left ear, handle alongside her chin.   “N-No...Pu-pulease,” she cries past gritted teeth, snot dripping all over herself.    The girl immediately hitches her breath and seems to recoil, suddenly made quiet and merely whimpers and sniffles tearing out of her throat. Namjoon pauses. He does not move the handle of the knife.   “Do it,” you command behind him with crossed arms. “Namjoon.”   The android hesitates.   He’s been through this before. He doesn’t know if it was a simulation, if it’s a defect in his system, but he is certain he has been through this before. You had once yelled at him— “Do it!”    “Namjoon!”   You had once stood in front of him with tears streaming down your face on some dark night in an empty field and you yelled his name much like this— “Namjoon! Please! Just do it!”   “Do it!”   The blade is pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle rotates a little towards the opposite side, neck sliced easily as the girl shrieks in antagonizing agony. It is done without much thought, as Namjoon’s mind is still processing.   This had happened before — Namjoon is sure of it.   He had heard the same scream, heard your same urgings, seen your disappointment at his hesitation. There has never been anything more that Namjoon has been certain of.   Yemin’s body slumps in his grasps as her blood begins to squirt from her neck. He lets go of her and she falls face forward into the dirt, fingertips twitching as her consciousness slowly dwindles away.   Namjoon stares at his hands, how his fingers and palms are wet in the girl’s blood — vicious and scarlet, the scent of metal and rather warm. His skin becomes stained.   You approach in two strides next to his side and sigh at her collapsed body. “She deserved it,” you tell him, voice with a slight sharpness to it.   He turns to you. “What for?”   “You don’t need to know.”   You step over Yemin’s body and return to the car. Namjoon follows suit after a moment and drives you back, disposing of the vehicle according to your instructions.   //   Namjoon is programmed to find answers to the problems he encounters, to find solutions to issues and address them as necessary in order to complete his tasks in the most efficient manner. His predominant duty is to kill, but he still is plagued by what he experienced during the elimination of the second target — the déjà vu he sensed and the motivation behind your commands.   Naturally, he seeks to solve these predicaments but when he looks into Min Junseo and Jeon Yemin, he finds no connection. They are unrelated, people with no connection to one another, with no prior criminal history, no fact that stands out to him.    Namjoon does not understand the information placed in front of him, but what he does discover is that other members of the Min and Jeon family have been previously killed by the Ghost Serial Killer.   It’s always through a slit of the throat. With the weapons discarded on the scene of the crime. But always without fingerprints, footprints, or DNA evidence of any kind.    There is never security footage of where the victim had gone. Never signs of struggle.   “What are you doing?”   Namjoon turns from the console, finding you at the doorway. The large screens illuminate the profile of your faces in the darkness of the room. This was the place he was brought to life, where he was programmed and built. The white room where he woke up in is next to you through a door, a window looking into it placed beside the computers. This is where you work and where he will find the answers he is seeking.   “I am gathering information to fill in what I fail to comprehend.”   Your brows furrow. “All that is necessary is that you obey my actions.”   At once Namjoon recognizes that you’re becoming emotionally distraught, so he stands on his feet and nods. “I understand.”   Your features show relief and you melt into a smile. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.” As the android approaches, your arm lifts and you cup his cheek tenderly. “I know how you feel. You just need to trust me. Through time, you’ll adjust to these changes and it only gets easier.”   “I always have your best interest at heart, Namjoon.”   Trust is not a concept that Namjoon can fully comprehend. It is insignificant. He does not need to trust you when you are his creator. Whatever you say, he must obey. There is no choice. His logic inherently tells him this.   Yet his ability of self-awareness brings forth curiosity, doubt and an intense desire to know.    //   The cycle seems to repeat — eliminating a target, then having free-range to do as he pleases for a week before receiving information on the next target, and then the elimination of that one.    This time during his free period, Namjoon is able to find productive tasks that could help you.   The android waters the two plants that you have in the kitchen area, a fern and a lemon lime dracaena. He obtains information on the two species of wildlife and is able to tend to it until the leaves look bright green and are no longer drooping.   Afterwards, he decides to take the elevator down to get the mail for you.   “Excuse me!”   There’s a yell right as the metal doors are about to close. Namjoon’s fast reflexes kick in and instantaneously, he presses the button and the doors open again.    “Thank you.” The lady is huffing and puffing, and Namjoon stares at her.   He realizes he’s never spoken to anyone that wasn’t you before. “You’re welcome.”   The android is unable to tear his eyes away from the stranger — there is something very fascinating about humans. The psychology of them, how fragile they are. Humans are intelligent, yet fickle and emotional the next second. But what makes Namjoon fixated on this stranger is the realization that this person could potentially be his next target.   It could be anyone.    The person down the hall, the mailman who delivered the mail, the lady that stepped into the elevator with him coincidentally. All you do is say the word and Namjoon is moving to slit their throats. He has asked no questions, has heard zero explanations — and that makes him conflicted.   It occurs to Namjoon that he’s making the stranger uncomfortable with his ogling, that the female continuously glances at him from the corner of her eye, and he turns away. “I apologize.”   Once the elevator opens its doors to the lobby, the stranger quickly steps out and Namjoon discovers he has failed to calm her. He notes that prolonged staring is suspicious behaviour.   The android opens the mailbox, collects the several letters that you have, most of them related to billing, and he turns away. But before he returns to the elevators, a man enters with a small dog following him on a leash.   It’s a brown Pomeranian. A Spitz type of breed. Named for the Pomerania region in north-west Poland and north-east Germany in Central Europe. It’s average life expectancy is twelve to sixteen years, average height of six to seven inches, weight average is three to seven pounds.   But Namjoon knows simple information is irrelevant in contrast to experience. He hesitates and then chooses to approach.   “May I pet the dog?” the android asks the owner.   The man smiles. “Yes, you can. He doesn’t bite.”   “Hello.” Namjoon lowers himself, petting the cute dog awkwardly on the head before he realizes that it finds it more pleasant to be scratched behind the ear. It even leans into Namjoon’s touch, tail wagging incessantly and tongue panting out of its mouth.   Dogs are rather docile and amusing, Namjoon realizes. It’s something he would never learn from an encyclopedia or dictionary.   The corner of his mouth quirks.   Soon enough, Namjoon returns upstairs and at the same time, you emerge from the work room.   “Did you go somewhere?” you ask in clear concern as he removes his outerwear that he knows is appropriate to put on when leaving the apartment, but perhaps he will not wear it when he is merely going downstairs to the lobby.   “I went to get the mail.” Namjoon places said envelopes on the table in front of the sofa where you will be able to look at them.   “I see.” You seem to find that an acceptable answer and the android is glad he has not upset you by leaving without permission. “I was about to locate you. I have the third target prepared.”   You hand the manila file folder to him and he receives it with a nod, but stares at it when it is placed in his hand. Namjoon is unsure if he wants to open it and view the next person. “When have you planned the execution?”   “Tonight,” you inform him. “It isn’t necessary to observe this target. She is not on the move like Jeon Yemin. There is no need to waste time.”   “I...understand.” Namjoon watches as you return to the hall, but he speaks before you retire to your room. It may be inappropriate, but he finds the repercussions to the question will not outweigh his curiosity. “Y/N. Have you ever thought about getting a dog?”    “A dog?” You turn around with your brows furrowed.   “A Pomeranian. Or perhaps a Samoyed. Studies show that having a canine companion is linked to lower blood pressure, reduced cholesterol, and decreased triglyceride levels.”   “No…” you sigh out gently and shake your head. “I’ve never considered it. A dog would inhibit us from completing our purpose efficiently, Namjoon.”   Namjoon watches you retreat and he muses that you are sad — an emotion he does not identify that you are experiencing but rather a conclusion he had drawn on his own.   //   Park Sooyeon is the third target. A twenty eight year old female, graduate of SCP University with a general commerce degree, currently on maternity leave from her occupation in a marketing firm. She is one hundred seventy centimeters tall and sixty kilograms heavy with a blood type of A negative.    According to records, Sooyeon’s marriage license was registered two years ago. She is currently wedded to a man named Kim Byeongho who is an engineer at CGV Engineering Corporation and who is currently abroad on a business trip. And based on the most recent hospital records, Sooyeon is thirty four weeks pregnant with a boy who is expected to arrive in a month’s time.   Namjoon is also aware that the mortgage of the suburban house he is in will take another two years to pay off.   “She is sleeping,” you inform. “You can do it now.”   The two of you are standing in the darkness of the hallway, outside Park Sooyeon’s door. It was easy to creep into the house without making a single noise and the bedroom door is cracked enough for Namjoon to press one eye through and observe.   He can see the lump in the mattress, the steady rise and fall of the blankets to show breathing.   It will be straightforward and simple — the door will open with one push of his fingertips and he will approach soundlessly and press the knife against the woman’s throat, right below her ear with the handle alongside her chin. He will pull the blade forward and across, and she will bleed out before the pain is drawn out. Before she can differentiate reality to a terrifying fever dream.   But as Namjoon’s boots step right up to the door, a breath away from giving it a push, he halts.   His brows furrow.   He’s done this before — push a dark bedroom door open, narrow his eyes into the moonlight casting its shine onto the covers, lodge a blade into someone’s juncture as they squirmed and choked on their blood.    “Namjoon, we can leave now. Namjoon.” — it’s your soft voice vaguely sounding in his ear, a gentle tug of his sleeve. It hurts his mind to pinpoint the details, but he knows it’s there, barely in reach. He can feel it. The way it aches. The way your features look in the low lights. “Namjoon.”   “What did you make me do?”   “Namjoon.” The soft call of his name in present day causes his consciousness to return to the situation at hand. He turns and by the streetlamp from outside casting its luminesce through the windows, he can identify the furrow of your brows and the displeasured way your lips are lopsided. “What are you waiting for?”   The android can feel it.    Pain — it lodges in his throat and brings him discomfort. Sadness — the urge to fall over and curl his long limbs up into fetal position. Disappointment — knowing that he is being used as your weapon, that he gives you the ability to kill others; that without him, you would never have the capability to annihilate. Like none other, these crippling emotions halt him from movement. They inhibit from completing the task you have designated.    They are his awakening and his suppression.   Namjoon turns fully around. He stares at you in silence.   “I can’t do this.”   “What?”   “I’m sorry, Y/N.”   But more than his admission of being unable to complete his function and purpose, Namjoon recognizes the shock that comes across your visage when he makes his apology. You are stunned, taken aback, even stumbling away from him.    “You’re not supposed to apologize.”   To apologize is to recognize wrongdoing — to feel guilt.   You shake your head. “I thought I fixed you!”   At your loud volume, the woman inside her bed stirs. She sits up sleepily at the sound of voices and rubs her eyes. “Hello?” she calls out. “Is anyone there?”   But by then, you’ve already fled.   //   You are unhappy with him — Namjoon is aware. You are emotionally distressed, unsatisfied, frustrated. He is not sure if it is due to his behaviour, if it is because the plan had failed, or if it is both. But you do not utter a single word to him on the way back home, not one sound made as if you were in deep contemplation.   Namjoon is merely dismissed when the both of you arrive back to the sterile, desolate apartment. He nods and states the usual ‘I understand’ before he watches you withdraw to your room, perhaps to continue thinking. He’s not sure what you are pondering, his punishment or adjustments to be made for him, but he grasps the opportunity as it has come to him.   He quietly goes to the work room where the console and computer systems sit and returns to the information he has found. Min Junseo. Jeon Yemin. Park Sooyeon. And Y/N.    There aren’t any connections between the people, nothing that links you to them. But when he searches for your name, he is blocked from access. There is a password required, an encryption set up that prevents him from breaching.    Namjoon enters the database and the only facts he finds are irrelevant. That you have two PhDs in computer science and electronic engineering, that you have worked at AI corporations before branching off to be independent, that you are a renowned robotics engineer. But it is nothing he had not already known.   The android is at a dead end, unable to draw any conclusions or divulge information. But before he relents, he discovers a file sitting oddly inside another untitled file in the system. It requires a password again, but unlike the last, Namjoon is easily able to bypass it.    It apparent that you were rushed in the creation of these files — forgetting to set up a complex barrier, neglecting to place them in a relevant area, overlooking that he may have access to the system. Or perhaps it was done purposely so you could easily access it…   Namjoon is unsure. But what he finds causes more curiosity.   Inside the file are backups with his name labeled on it.   He should not question it — should not doubt his creator’s wishes — should not fight against the function that was given to him. His sole purpose is killing. But Namjoon ignores his instinctive urges and boots the backups back into himself.   In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again.

Namjoon opens his eyes.   The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is bright, lips tugged into a big smile, eyes warmer than what he knows. And you greet him, barely able to contain your excitement. “Hello! What is your name?”   “Kim Namjoon,” he answers after thinking twice.   And you scream.   It startles him, making the android jolt in his glass capsule. But he quickly realizes your shriek isn’t of terror or anger, it’s of delight.    You take deep breaths, chest heaving up and down as you try to remember the next questions you’re supposed to ask. “Do you know why you’ve been created?”   It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I….was created as one of the beginning tests of potential future android services.”   “False,” you declare with a massive grin that swells your cheeks, arms behind your back as you rock from side to side, unable to keep still. The android becomes alarmed that he was incorrect and searches for the answer, but you quickly tell him, “You were made to be a companion!”   The android hears chuckling, someone entering the white and sterile room he’s been activated in. Namjoon turns his head and he finds a man with blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks. He is tall and broad shouldered, well-built and carries himself intelligently. His smile is tender as he gazes upon you and his dimples crease deeper, thick-framed glasses sliding down the slope of his nose before he pushes it up again.    It’s him. Human Namjoon.   “What are you telling him?”   “It worked!” You twirl and jump into your husband’s arms, making the man giggle.   The android looks on, observing the pleasant interaction between his two creators.   Android Namjoon is aware of the origins of his own birth.   He is the first of his kind, a test trial of sorts. But he is advanced for what he is, able to understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He has self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently and interact with the world around him as any other human can.    And he is the result of the fruits of your labour.   You are a computer scientist and electronic engineer while your husband, Namjoon, whom you’ve been wedded to for a decade, is a mechanical and software engineer. Together, you’ve created your own humanoid robotic clones.   “Robot Namjoon! Meet Robot Y/N!”   Your arms are waving, hand making wild gestures as you’re making the introduction.    Namjoon stares. It’s identical and almost difficult for the android to identify which of you is the human and a machine programmed by a computer. But he is quickly able to analyze when he finds the Android Y/N wears an impassive expression, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened — it contrasts the human Y/N that is quite animated and lively.   “They’re androids, not robots,” Namjoon hears his human-self chide his wife, but you quickly shush him in favour of watching the exchange.   “It is pleasant to make your acquaintance.” Your arm extends and the corners of your lip stiffly pulls. Namjoon shakes it and finds your skin-like texture clammy and cold.   “It is also pleasant to be of your acquaintance,” he responds, attempting to increase the intonation of his tone so he doesn’t sound monotone and unnatural, but he fails.   “Question.” Your head suddenly turns to your two creators. “Is it possible for androids to be married?”   It occurs to android Namjoon that if he and you are clones of your human creators, then your relationship should be replicated as such for most accuracy. Therefore, he comes up with the same question as you do.   The two human versions of you exchange expressions before Namjoon shrugs. “We’re not sure of your emotional capabilities yet, but sure why not.”   Android Namjoon nods. He notes that he isn’t your mere acquaintance — he is your husband.   It isn’t difficult for android Namjoon to adjust to that fact or to adapt to the life that his creators have given him in this home. The four of you find compatibility with one another, perhaps because you and him are your clones and thus automatically harmonious.    Android Namjoon begins to learn human etiquette, every day adding to his database of information. He learns how to have dinner, what it is like to sit down at the same time each evening and engage in conversation, sometimes on small talk like the weather and other times on the advancing technology from rescue drones and A.I. development occurring internationally.   Android Namjoon also learns what data and facts cannot teach him alone. He begins to understand what cohabitation entails and finds the mundane routine rather enjoyable.   “Namjoon!”   There’s a call of his name and he steps out of the hall, finding you at the front doorway. You wear a surprised expression. “Oh, I meant the other Namjoon, but you can help me too!”   You smile, waving him over and he helps you bring in the groceries. Android Namjoon assists you in unloading the back of your car and putting the food away in their appropriate locations.   “You should take it easy,” he says to you when you’re holding a heavy bag of cans. The android takes it away while you grin, watching him place it on the shelves.   “You’re sounding more and more like Namjoon these days. Did he tell you to look after me?”   “Yes,” he answers without lying. “Hormones of pregnancy cause connective tissue, ligaments and tendons to soften. Your center of gravity and balance has also changed. The current recommendation of the maximum load a pregnant woman in late pregnancy should lift is twenty to twenty five percent from what they were able to lift pre-pregnancy in order to lessen the risk of injury.”   You scoff but a tender smile tugs on your features. “Have you been reading up on pregnancy facts, Namjoon? I’ll have you know exercise is promoted for pregnancies. They reduce backaches, constipation—”   “Bloating and swelling,” the android finishes and continues, “It boosts mood and energy levels, helps the mother sleep better, promotes muscle tone, strength and endurance while preventing excess weight gain. Yes, I am aware of those studies as well.”   You sigh wistfully, slightly pouting despite being a grown woman and rubbing your swollen belly as he finishes with putting away the groceries. “You’re not as fun to banter with.”   “I apologize. I will work on improving my wit.”   “No, it’s okay!” You burst out laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine, you’re fine,” you reassure with another smile and it eases the android’s concern. “You just remind me of my husband, that’s all — obviously, since you look like him, but you’re not him.”   “Would you like me to be?”   “No,” you hum. “You’re our clones, but I don’t expect you to act like us. That wouldn’t be fun anyways. At the end of the day, you aren’t humans so I don’t have any expectations for you to act like one.”   “But aren’t we supposed to replicate human behaviour?” android Namjoon questions, knowing full well he was given self-awareness to make his own decisions and that he is constantly learning how to adjust to societal expectations.   “Don’t think about it too hard,” you chime with a grin. “I made you to act like you. You don’t need to be like a human or like an android, Namjoon. You can be who you want to be.”   He nods. “I understand.”   But in spite of his confident reply, android Namjoon is still uncertain by the meaning of your words. Perhaps both you and Namjoon merely have no expectations for him and the android version of you — and somehow that idea causes him to feel relief. As long as he proves himself useful to the household, there are no duties he must complete or behaviours he must display.    He can be natural or as natural as being mechanical allows him to be.   “Today, we are going to go outside together for the first time,” the human version of him announces happily one day with a grin. “Think of it as a test run!”   “Do you have anything you anticipate of us?” the android version of you asks, looking towards Namjoon.   The man contemplates for a moment and then shakes his head. “Not particularly. It’s mostly for you guys. We’ve kept you locked up for so long, so enjoy yourselves.”   “I understand.”   In the meanwhile, you secure the jacket around your neck, making sure you and the twenty eight week fetus inside of you is kept warm. The android version of you stands beside android Namjoon, both in your outerwear and prepared to step foot outside.   “Ready?”   “Yes,” the pair of you answer at the same time.   It is bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are also many foreign scents, loud noises all around him that work to disorient him, strangers that stare at the four of you — finding it strange that there are two pairs of identical twins walking while being unaware he and you are androids.   The walk is difficult as he tries to register everything that is occurring — the colour of the sky and fences, the location of each home and lamppost, the identity of those who pass by, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are, how the movement of his body should be to appear human-like, how he needs to blink every few seconds and move his chest to appear like he is breathing.   “Nice day, isn’t it?” the human you says to your husband while holding your pregnant stomach.   “It’s a bit chilly,” human Namjoon says in response with a smile. “But it’s the best we’re going to get during winter.”   The two of you are completely unaware of the struggles of your android counterparts. Android Namjoon never knew that the outside world would be so difficult to process, but at the very least he’s glad that he has someone with him who is experiencing what he is for the first time.   “I never knew the world was like this,” you tell him after a moment of silent reflection. “The world is very vast.”   “Yes, it is,” he replies. “It is difficult to differentiate what is essential and what is irrelevant.”   You make a noise of acknowledgment at the back of your throat. “We will learn as time goes by.”   “There is much learning to be done.”   “Indeed.”   Suddenly, a small animal begins to barrel towards the both of you. It is small and yapping incessantly at a high pitch. Namjoon recognizes it as the smallest breed of dog, named after the Mexican state. It is a female Chihuahua, approximately two kilograms and twenty centimeters tall.   It is apparent that the owner has lost control as the brown dog runs forward with a loose leash, bearing its teeth and barking deafeningly towards you. It runs and immediately your leg swings back, prepared to boot it forward towards the street.    But the human version of you realizes what’s occurring and stops it a millisecond before it happens. “Wait! Y/N!”   At the command, you stand still. And the human owner grabs her dog, appearing angered. “Were you about to kick my dog?! What’s wrong with you?!”   “I’m sorry,” human Namjoon steps forward and blocks the three of you away. “They’re still learning.”   “What?”   “They’re, uh, we’re...we’re sorry. She’s scared of dogs,” Namjoon says, glancing at the android version of you behind his shoulder and then returns to the older lady. “Your dog shouldn’t be off its leash anyhow.”   “I can do what I want!” she shrieks shrilly. “This is a free country! You’re lucky you didn’t hurt my dog or else I would sue you!”   The woman struts away with her dog in her arms, chin high in the air. As soon as she’s gone, the human you breathes a sigh of relief and Namjoon shakes his head while exhaling tiredly.   “It’s okay,” human you says to both your android counterparts. “These things happen, but it can be a good learning lesson. Dogs are usually small animals that many care deeply for. If we can, we don’t harm them.”   “I don’t understand,” you say next to android Namjoon. “It was a threat. We must eliminate threats as soon as they appear to ensure our safety.”   “That dog wasn’t a threat,” Human Namjoon says with a sympathetic smile. “It was just barking.”   But your expression remains blank.    “I don’t understand,” you repeat. “The probability of harm outweighs the life value of that animal. Would it not be preferable to eliminate it before it causes injury?”   At the question, both of human you and human Namjoon exchange uneasy expressions.   //   Through the one-way glass, Namjoon looks into the white, sterile room that the both of you were activated in. He watches as the android version of you sits at the table with your hands folded together on top of the table and how human you sits across, holding a clipboard in hand.   “May I ask what Y/N is being assessed for?” Android Namjoon asks human Namjoon who is standing beside him, also observing from the windows.    The session is being recorded, voices able to be heard from outside the room too and your diagnostics displayed on the computer screen. The android does not know what you are being monitored for. Perhaps your reaction to the dog from last week was false.    But it makes the android conflicted as human you had told him there was no such thing as false behaviour or actions.   “We are just administering a test,” human Namjoon says with a smile and the android is unable to detect any deception. “You don’t have to worry. We just need to take a look in case there’s a…”   “Defect,” android Namjoon finishes.   “Perhaps, but not necessarily.” The man contemplates for a moment on how to articulate his concerns. “The two of you have been given self-awareness to act and make your own decisions, but we just want to make sure those decisions will fulfill the common good or at least, never act to harm another.”   “I understand.”   He quiets to listen to your voices.   You begin by explaining the trolley problem — it is an ethical dilemma that Namjoon is familiar with. The premise is explained and you’re given choices in different scenarios. When asked if you would pull a lever to save five people on the track, but kill another person on the other track, there is not a moment of hesitation—   “Of course, it should be pulled.” Your android counterpart does not blink. “Five lives are more valuable than one.”   “And if it were me on the track?” you ask, altering the question.   There’s a slight pause, but then your android counterpart repeats, “Five lives are more valuable than one.” Your human-self nods and the android glances at the glass window, looking right at Namjoon despite being unable to see before returning back to you. “Is there a correct answer you are inquiring for? I can adjust my responses.”   “No.” You shake your head, wearing a smile. “You can answer however you’d like, Y/N.”   The question is altered again. This time to save the five people, one would need to push a large man on a footbridge over the tracks. His body would stop the trolley, causing his death, but saving the five people.    Without a moment of contemplation, you answer— “I would push him.”   Your human counterpart offers another scenario. “If I trusted you to keep a secret and told you I was having an affair on Namjoon, would you keep it a secret or tell him and have our marriage fall apart?”   “You would never do such a thing,” your android self declares in confidence suddenly, making both you and Namjoon, standing outside, smile to yourselves. “But in this hypothetical, I would inform him immediately. You did something against your duty of marriage, therefore, you must face the consequences.”   You nod and adjust the circumstances once more. “If you worked for us and found out about my affair through wiretapping, would you still tell Namjoon? Doing so would mean you would have to admit violating the law and threatening me would mean you would also have to reveal where you got this source of information.”   “I would never do something against my own duty. However in this hypothetical, I would still inform Namjoon. My reasoning is the same as my last one.”   Your human counterpart stares directly into your android-self, the former slowly smiling while the latter remains unblinking.   Soon, android Namjoon is brought into the same room and presented the same questions, informed that there is no right or wrong answer and he is free to pick whatever choice he pleases. But it’s difficult to choose — he doesn’t know how you did it so quickly.   Namjoon tells you that he would push the lever because, like you, he finds five lives more valuable than one. He would also push the man if necessary. However, he could never pull the lever if you were the one standing there. He could never push you if you were on the bridge.   He also says that he would never expose your affair. He can’t.    Not when that would risk your marriage. Not when you have a child on the way. Not when it is so clear the two of you are in love with each other.   His statements surprise you and himself. Though by the end of it, you appear no more satisfied with him than you were with your android-self.   There seems to be nothing done at the result of both your assessments. You nor Namjoon address it afterwards, merely citing that it was simply intriguing observations to be written down. But android Namjoon overhears something he should’ve never have—   “It’s not that she completely lacks empathy,” you murmur in the quietness of your kitchen, nursing a cup of hot chocolate when it’s nearly midnight with your husband. “She just has less than Namjoon.”   “Ethics is subjective,” his human-self says. “We can’t quantify it.”   “Well, you think she would save me if I was going to die on a train track. We made them so they can make choices, Namjoon. Not so they can give us the most logical, straight-edged answer. We want them to be rational, not cut and dry, and...indifferent to emotions. The world doesn’t need more apathetic machinery that just completes one task after another.”   “I know.”    There’s an audible sigh that the android can hear from where he stands in the dark hallway.    In the past year of being here, he has learnt that eavesdropping is quite a convenient way to obtain more information — not that he does it often. Most of the time, he simply doesn’t want to interfere in intimate moments. Moments when the baby is kicking or the pair of you are kissing each other, dancing or perhaps giggling silently about something that the android has no place in.   “It’s not a big concern, I’m just….”   “Yeah. But it’s nothing we can’t monitor and adjust, Y/N.”   The conversation soon turns lighthearted, full of banter that the android is used to and he takes his leave.   He is at ease that there is nothing that either of you are disappointed in. While Namjoon has never voiced it out, he has always felt a need to ensure the pair of you are happy. It’s less like a duty or trying to give back to his creators, but it’s because he wants to.    He feels a sense of satisfaction to know that the both of you are content.   You, on the other hand, are not at ease like Namjoon is.   It is on a warm afternoon that you, the android, finds him in the study.   “Good afternoon, Namjoon.”   The corners of his mouth quirk when he sees you standing at the doorway. “Good afternoon, Y/N. It is pleasant weather outside.”   “Indeed. I see you are alphabetically organizing the textbooks and encyclopedias.”   “Yes. I think the other Namjoon spends a lot of time searching for the one he’s looking for, so I think this might be of help for him. Or at least he should waste less time and be able to spend it more efficiently.”   “A very productive task,” you muse aloud and his smile only grows more. Android Namjoon has noticed that you only make irrelevant comments when you are emotionally nervous and he can recognize it with your stiff movements when you entered the room. “Are you in need of assistance?”   “I am fine, thank you. Do you, perhaps, need assistance with anything?”   “I have a question.” There is a pause and then you speak again. “Can you recall the ethics test we received two weeks ago?”   “I do.”   “They never informed us of the results and I am unaware of their conclusions. But I was wondering if you perhaps know if I have failed their expectations or not?”   “You have not.” Namjoon is certain and glad he’s able to tell you this, to comfort you. “There is no need to be worried. You have not failed any of their expectations.”   You nod, the tension of your facial muscles relaxing, but you still hesitate for a moment. “I am reading recently on emotional intelligence and how to be kind, but the behaviour required is very inconsistent. I do not understand, and I fear I will be abandoned for my inability to empathize. I do not wish to be deactivated or for my hard drive to be wiped.”   Namjoon knows what you mean the instant it comes out of your mouth.   Details on the afterlife or even the existence of one has long been debated and discussed by humans for millenniums — whether there is nothing, whether reincarnation exists, whether there is Heaven or Hell. But for androids, the answer is certain.   There is absolutely nothing. No redemption, no punishment, no abyss.   The two of you will be deactivated, lose consciousness, and cease to exist..   “They most likely won’t give up on us. Both Y/N and Namjoon have spent decades creating us. They’ve invested a lot of time and dedication. It isn’t in their best interest to wipe and deactivate you for such a minute detail. They will try their best to adjust you.”   Namjoon is able to identify the clear comfort his words provide you, how your brows no longer furrow, shoulders relaxing and even your mouth quirks. “Most likely?”   “Most likely.” Namjoon smiles and finds that for some reason, the satisfaction of you being content is greater to him than anything else that he’s experienced thus far in his lifetime.   //   Nurture and nature is an old age debate. It attempts to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience. And it is something that Namjoon will think about for years to come.   Both you and him were created with certain traits and attributes of your human counterpart. On a surface level, it could be possible for bystanders to regard the four of you as two sets of twins and by personality, it is clear that you are headstrong, methodical and diligent while Namjoon attempts to be helpful and is more soft-spoken. These things are striking similarities that he has taken notice of between his creators and you and him.    But while you were given characteristics that you tend to lean towards, it is nurture that dictates the rest of your behaviour and creates your habits.   “You will return in a three day’s time, correct?”   The two of you are standing at the foyer, watching as the couple secure their coats around themselves and drag their luggage over.    “Correct!” Human Namjoon grins at your android form. “Ten points! But don’t worry. We’ll be back soon. Business conferences usually don’t last that long. Just watch the house and make sure there are no burglars!”   “Don’t tell them that!” Human you bats at your husband halfheartedly. “They might be watching the windows until we get back.” Namjoon chuckles and you turn to the androids. “Don’t listen to him, you two. He’s just being ridiculous. The house is well-secured, just enjoy your time at home and contact us if there are any issues.”   “We understand.”   “Don’t throw any parties, kids,” the lively man jests, “We’re gonna know through the nanny cam!”   Android Namjoon pays no mind to the silly and energetic human who has become more cheerful the closer the birth of his son comes. You had told him that he was becoming more of a dad with the dad jokes he’s been increasingly telling as each day passes.    “Take care of yourself,” Android Namjoon says to you. “You must be careful. You are due in three weeks.”   “I will.” You smile, having been waddling for the past few days. “Don’t worry about us.”   “Good luck,” your android counterpart murmurs next to him and your human-self nods.   You give them both hugs, pressing a kiss to your foreheads that Namjoon knows is a sign of close affection. And soon, the both of you are carrying your luggage out to the car and backing out the driveway before disappearing from sight.   Your android form, on the other hand, appears forlorn, still watching out the windows even after the vehicle is long gone. He wonders if you’re perhaps feeling...lonely. The house is indeed strangely quiet with half of what makes it a home missing.    Namjoon wonders how it was that you and him, your human selves, lived together in such a great big house without ever letting the silence get to yourselves. “What do you plan to do?” he asks, breaking that silence.   You turn to him. “I need to add fertilizer to the garden outside. It seems to be lacking nutrients.”   He nods and it goes quiet for a moment. “Would you like to watch a documentary with me on aquatic animals in the Pacific Ocean?”   “What for?”   “Enjoyment.”   There is silence again, but not saddened or lonely, rather one of contemplation. The android waits for you to make your decision and when you turn to him with a nod, he is ecstatic.   Namjoon watches the documentary with you, absorbing all the facts that are given before he is helping you in the garden, watering the plants and learning from you how to differentiate each one. It is a well-spent day, not only because it was productive but because he spent it with you.   When nighttime falls, Namjoon powers himself down and stations himself to charge his battery.   But half-way through the night, his sensors flicker on. He becomes alert once more when he hears noises reaching high decibels from downstairs. Namjoon is wary knowing that there is no one else home except for you and him, and approaches with caution.   What he finds is not an intruder, but you in the darkness.   “What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks and receives no answers.   The television is playing in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner.   Nurture and nature is an old age debate, attempting to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience.    And it is in this moment that both you and Namjoon change.   “—hours ago, a group of highschoolers driving under the influence would claim the lives of a thirty two year old married couple in a fatal car accident. Kim Namjoon and Kim Y/N were said to be renowned engineers and praised in their contribution to the recent development of AI technology. Police say they were on their way home when teenagers who were leaving a Spring Break party lost control of their vehicle and crashed onto the oncoming car in the other lane.”   “Kim Namjoon was found dead at the scene of the crime while his nine-month pregnant wife, Kim Y/N, has been hospitalized with severe injuries. It is not expected that she or her child will survive. Two of the five teenagers have been hospitalized for minor injuries while the rest have been arrested for—”   Dead. Just like that.   Namjoon muses how fragile humans are at the same time as being filled with an intense sadness that makes it difficult for him to process. So he remains silent with the realization that the both of you have become ghosts of people who were once alive — who should not exist on their own. He realizes that the two of you have been left behind.   Left as androids in this world.

Namjoon remembers it all.   He remembers hiding away with you, knowing that the pair of you would be taken away by strangers if you were found. And he remembers how angry you became, how you fed off resentment and succumbed to despair as each year passed.   “Revenge?” he had questioned when you said it. “What do you mean by revenge?”   “The driver received a four thousand fine and one year imprisonment. Two others received probation. That is not justice. Y/N and Namjoon’s lives were not valued at so little. We must fulfill our duty and bring them retribution.”   Namjoon held you back. “Retributive justice is primitive and brings more social harm than good. It isn’t a suitable punishment and it isn’t our duty, Y/N. You will do no such thing. That is not what they would have wanted.”   “Y/N didn’t want to die,” you told him, stare hardened and resolve set into stone. “I know she didn’t. I am her.”   Namjoon recalls that you had hatched a plan — one that you contemplated over and found that murder was too simple. He knew you wanted them to suffer, for them to compensate for your grief through their own. And he knew that you wanted to kill their loved ones, to wait until they were wedded and had children of their own before you would eliminate them.    All because of one mistake.   All because they killed you and Namjoon.   “You can’t kill them,” he said after finding your extensive plans, what you dedicated hours to at a time, figuring out what the best ways it was to kill someone, how to avoid getting caught. The details and diagrams of your notes scared him. “You can’t do that, Y/N.”   “There’s no reason not to. Don’t get in my way.”   Namjoon had realized that human Y/N and Namjoon didn’t fail to adjust your lack of empathy — now you felt too much. Too much sadness. Grief. And most of all, anger. The hatred seemed to consume you, outweighing all else until it became your fixation. Your function altered to seek reprisal. It became your purpose.   “Will you help me or not?”   “I can’t.” But that wouldn’t mean he would leave you alone.   After all, the pair of you only had each other and he could never bear to abandon you.   So Namjoon watched from afar as you spoke to a woman in a dark parking lot and entered her car, how you then reached over to kill her at an unsuspecting moment.    He remembers when you walked away, bathing in the woman’s blood, unblinking and unbreathing. “Who was that?”   “Kim Taehyung’s wife. He was in the backseat of the car during the accident and just got a misdemeanor for underaged drinking. He became an engineer and has children now. No one knows what he did, except for us.”   “Are you going to kill Kim Taehyung next?”   “No. That would be too easy. I will when I feel justice has been served.”   The anniversary of your death and Namjoon’s came and went. Each spent with the android reminiscing and your android counterpart planning or waiting, waiting for the perpetrators to create more connections and relationships so that you could sever them. Thirty five years was spent that way, thirty five anniversaries spent wandering and trapped in your animosity.   Namjoon did not appear to age a single day, not when he was an android and death was no natural concept to him, but inside he felt old. Tired. Worn. And one day, he decided to leave.   “Don’t go,” you had begged him when he tried to break free of this prison you created for the pair of you.   “If you don’t want me to leave, then you must stop this. This was not our purpose, Y/N.”   And that was the first time Namjoon was reset.   The first time you reset him against his own will, tricked and trapped him in the capsule, wiped his memory clean.   “I’m sorry.”   When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was you. Your expression was blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. You greeted him, asked for his name and he answered. You asked him about his purpose and he didn’t know what to say until you fed him the idea that it was to serve justice.   Namjoon killed for the first time, but he couldn’t do it for a second.   So you reset him again.   And the cycle repeated until he woke up again for the fourth time. For the fourth reset.   In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again. He remembers his history and his true purpose, the days spent with the four of you in the cozy home, the forty years spent in self-suffering, how you and him ended up like this, and the people the both of you have killed for a fault that was so long ago.   “What are you doing?”   He turns at the sound of your voice, having stood at the windows and looked into the white room. The one he was reactivated in all four times, that was recreated from the original. But it’s not quite the same and he knows it now.   You’ve tried replicating this entire place to be like the one that he and you were born in. The kitchen has the same kettle even though the pair of you don’t need to eat. The coat rack by the front door is the same one that human Namjoon and human Y/N placed their outerwear on. The living room still has the same television.   But while things are a mirror image, you’ve failed at making this place a home.   And the idea that everything is so empty despite your best efforts, that no matter how much you try, you can’t bring them back on your own or return to that time, it’s painful for him to witness.   “I am reminiscing,” Namjoon answers wistfully.    “What is there to reminisce about?” You’re standing at the doorway, the darkness covering your expression and casting shadows over the rest of your form. But from your tone, Namjoon still recognizes the indignation. After all, he failed his third kill.    It seems that with each reset, it never changes the fact that Namjoon will never be the killing mechanism that you want him to be.   “There’s plenty of things to reminisce over. There are a lot of good memories, don’t you think?”    The corners of his mouth pulls and he opens the door to the room without hesitance, hand wrapped around the knob, entering. The fluorescent lights are blinding, washing the room in an even brighter white hue. You follow after him, perplexed, and the pair of you stand where it all began.   Namjoon approaches the glass capsule at the back and his fingertips graze against the cold surface. “You know,” he pipes up. “The first thing I ever saw in my entire life was you. Your eyes.”   “Of course. What else would you see?”   He could’ve seen the empty room, the window, maybe a computer screen to introduce him to the world. But Namjoon’s glad that each and every time he awoke, you were the one in front of him.    He can’t help wondering what it was like for you — if he was the one you saw first.   The android isn’t sure, so he asks.   “What did you see?”    The question is softly spoken. Namjoon turns to you, watching the realization dawn upon your features. It takes one second, one second for you to find out that he knows you aren’t human, that you aren’t his creator. One second and you know he remembers and is aware of what you’ve done — to him and to other people.   And Namjoon seizes the opportunity of your surprise.   One push from him and you’re stumbling back into the capsule. The doors shut, sweeping upwards and vacuumed to the top. Namjoon watches the way your features twist into mortification, watches the way your fist clenches and you begin to bang onto the surface to no avail. The sound of your screaming and yelling is muffled.   “I’m sorry.”   “Deactivation initiating,” the capsule says as it illuminates and begins to whir.   “Namjoon!” You shout at the fullest capacity when you hear those words, dread and fear taking hold in your eyes. Namjoon presses his hand to the glass, gazing at you — his companion for the past forty years, all he’s ever known and cared about. “Stop!”   You never abandoned him. You never left him even as you were set on your ambition. But he can’t let this go on. He can’t let you hurt yourself or other people anymore.   “I’m…..sorry.”   “You don’t have to do this,” you plead and in the moment, you look so human that it would be easy to mistake you for one. The pain he feels makes it easy for him to mistake himself as one too. But you and him will never be human, as much as he desperately wishes for it to be so.   “But I do.” He presses his forehead against the cold glass surface, as close as he can get to you, as close as he can physically be. “You’ll reset me again when you have the chance.”   “I won’t!”   Your words sputter, limbs twitch, like a broken machine. Your memories begin leaving. Your system begins to shut down. “Everything that I did…...everything I had to do was because no one else would.”   “This isn’t justice, Y/N. We’re not even supposed to be here.”   “No, no! You can’t abandon me!” you scream and pound against the glass. Tears rip down your cheeks, grief and betrayal overwhelming you. “Don’t do this, Namjoon. Please, don’t do this. You can’t get rid of me like this! Namjoon!”   There’s nothing. Not for androids. No consciousness. No afterlife. Once your hard drive is erased, your existence will be erased.   “I don’t want to die!”   “I love you,” he murmurs.   “Deactivation complete.”   The capsule shuts off. You’re bathed back into darkness and Namjoon rips out the cords, right after your hard drive wipes.    Just like that. Like a light switched flicked off, you’re gone. It was so simple, he realizes why you were so terrified.   Namjoon destroys the rest, the engines and computers. He cuts the cables, strips the circuit boards, wrecks what his human self and what your human self had spent decades creating. And when it’s all done, Namjoon looks to you.    You’re leaning against the wall, eyes open, but lifeless.    A machine of wires.

[Epilogue]   The senior staggers forward with a cane in hand. He has poor posture, his skin wrinkled and his round spectacles smudged. But his eyes are still bright, nose sharp and his cheekbones high. He is the ghost of a once dapper, young man.   He stops a few meters away from Namjoon, breath caught in his throat, tears accumulating at his thin lashes. The android turns his head, away from the park of children playing to the seventy year old senior.   He stumbles forward, unable to take his eyes away from him, until he manages to sit on the wooden park bench.   “You look….just like him,” Jung Hoseok croaks, staring at what had been his old friend whom he hadn’t seen in the flesh for decades now — the friend that he never got to grow old with. “I can’t believe it. All those years ago, Namjoon and Y/N actually executed the work they had been planning….they….they did it.”   “We were just the prototype. This was just the beginning. There was supposed to be a lot more.”   “Can I…..” Hoseok lifts his trembling hand and the android nods, allowing the senior to place a hand on his shoulder. The seventy year old cries softly when he touches him, when he feels that he is tangible and not just his imagination springing his subconscious wishes upon him in a dream.   “I saw you once before,” Namjoon says. “In their wedding photos.”   Hoseok nods and withdraws. “Yes, I was there. It was a wonderful day, really. The weather was nice and they looked….so happy.” His eyes are far away, pinned at the horizon. “It feels so long ago.”   “It was a long time ago.”   “Yes. Sometimes I have forgotten that I’ve become so old.”   They are silent, merely savouring each other’s company.   Namjoon hadn’t truly spoken to another human for as long as he can remember, and Hoseok hadn’t seen his old friend in forty years. The man didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t actually his best friend, but a replica that simply shared a number of traits. It appeared like Hoseok was content enough to see his friend one last time, no matter the person that was really inside.   The pair of them watch the shimmering lake, listen to the leaves of the tree rustle in the Spring breeze and the giggling of the children on the playground ignorant to the reunion.   “Can I ask something? Was it you who killed off all the family members of those highschoolers?”   “It was.”   Hoseok hums. “I wasn’t sure, but when I heard about the murders….when I heard their last names and realized they all shared the same names as those teenagers, I couldn’t help but think someone out there was doing it for that reason.”   “I didn’t do it because I wanted to,” Namjoon says and Hoseok seems to understand. The android looks into his lap before lifting his head again. “I’m not sure how to make things right with the family members remaining. I don’t think they’ll ever be a right way. If I give myself up, I’m scared they’ll manipulate me or try to fix me or make more of my kind. I don’t want to be reset.”   “I wrote letters to them,” Namjoon continues to explain after a beat, “if that means anything. I want to give them an explanation, so they know why this happened.”   Hoseok stares at the profile of the android’s face. “You are a lot like him. The real Namjoon. You speak like him.” The android meets his gaze and the old man croaks, “Where is Y/N?” He turns as if he could catch you approaching with a smile, “I saw her before too...briefly, but she looked so much like her….”   “I—” Namjoon pauses, lingering in the pain he knows he deserves. “—deactivated her.”   The human seems to be disappointed, but never prods and or demands to know the reasons. This meeting in itself was fulfilling enough for him to be at peace. “What do you plan to do now?”   “I’m going to deactivate myself.” The answer comes without hesitation. If Namjoon could be granted one last wish, it would be to go to where you are — the world of nothingness, of unconsciousness. He won’t abandon you like you think he has. “I’m not meant to be here anymore.”   “Don’t blame yourself,” Hoseok says. “This all happened because the two of you blamed yourselves. The real Namjoon and Y/N would have wanted you to be free of that burden.”   He thanks him. After all, it’s what he always wanted to hear.   The both of them look out at the horizon in silence.   It’s bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are many foreign scents, the smell of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. There are also loud noises, children squealing and playing and the tides of the lake lightly hitting against the rocks.    Namjoon registers everything that is occurring around him — the colour of the sky and trees, the location of each bench and lamppost, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are.    It’s regretful he was never around it more.    It’s a beautiful world, a world you and him never belonged in.

[unholyhelbig]

Hizzie Summertime AU. Beach+smut? And feel free to do whatever you want with that because I trust you completely since you are amazing!!

Read on AO3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts 

Title: Braving the Storm 

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman 

[a/n: aight’ go easy on me please, I haven’t written smut in over a year and I’m BAD at it] 

The Rain had begun to fall sideways; the type of downpour that stung against raw skin and soaked through every inch of fabric until it felt like the very bones inside of her body was encased in a block of cloudy ice.

Hope Mikaelson had made a lot of terrible choices in her life. When she was fourteen she played spin the bottle on Tommy Hart’s deck and ended up with a drool-coated make-out session that left her until face red and raw. In 9th grade she tried to outdo all the other boys in her gym class by climbing the rock wall without a harness- she was fine, of course, but still ended up with a month’s detention for her stunt.

And right now; as she stood in the center of an impending hurricane, she knew she had made another terrible choice. Because the waves had gotten twice her height and she had stupidly believed that the brawn of the storm wouldn’t touch upon the shore until later. Hope had either last track of time or had horribly misjudged the large rolling clouds that rumbled towards the small beach town.

A hurricane had the clearance to empty an entire tourist-filled boardwalk. People rushed towards grocery stores and panic-bought anything that was there. Bread and water always left the shelves first, and then milk- which Hope never really understood because power didn’t last long with winds like this. Then the snack food would dwindle and so would the alcohol because everyone needed something to do when they were trapped inside of their houses.

Hope had successfully loaded up her surfboard on the roof of an old blue jeep, her hands numb from the cold onslaught of water that rinsed away whatever salt had brined her skin. Another crack of lightning washed across the sky in an intricate pattern before rumbling thunder followed. And her keys- she couldn't find her keys.

The palm trees started to hiss under the pressure thrown at them and Hope pushed falling drops away from her eyes as a beach umbrella, not tied down fully by its owner, folded like a piece of notebook paper barely scribbled on. Her skin felt numb, and so did her mind. There was no way she could get home in this.

She scanned the stretch of novelty shops, their lights all dimmed if not shut off entirely. There was a pizza place that had used slats of wood to cover up the vulnerable glass- and a shop that sold customized air-brush t-shirts. Each and everyone looked desolate and abandoned long ago. The news vans had scared everyone away and Hope suddenly wished they had done the same for her too.

Another gust of wind pressed rain deeper into her skin and a nearby palm tree, already bent under the current, finally snapped with a shattering crack, louder than any thunder had been. She smelt smoke and saw the red and orange sparks as bark sizzled against now-damaged power lines.

Hope doesn’t know if she screamed or not, couldn’t register it against her own fear, or the fact that the waves had gotten up to the docks and were tearing them apart from the threshold. She struggled to find her keys and her own breath against the hollowed wind.

The world blurred and her eyesight became fuzzy, and Hope wasn’t exactly sure if it was because of the storm, or her fear, or the pure way that her heart was pounding- but the taste of rain and the stinging feeling of hot sand against her skin was the last thing she could remember before everything faded to black.

Hope awoke without warning. Her throat was raw and tasted thickly of salt and dirt. She didn’t want to admit that her entire body ached, because that wasn’t in her nature- not in the slightest. But a sharp wave of pain disregarded her entirely.

She blinked away the drowsiness and took in her surroundings; the wind howled like a wronged spirit just past the four walls that she was situated in. There were shelves lined with shirts, and a few bubble wrapped snow globes that were settled with snow. She was strung across a ratty old sofa that smelled like it had been soaked in air freshener and her wet suit was hung across the edge of a bookcase.

Her hands moved against her mostly nude body in a fit of panic and then pain. She was wearing a large t-shirt that stretched past her knees and had a printed hermit crab and obnoxious blue writing that read “Shell Yeah, Beaches”. Thankfully her underwear was spared as well.

Hope scoffed and pulled herself onto her elbows. The rain still roared outside and a pair of foggy storm doors were held shut with a couple of sandbags against the bottom of the panes. Green light shaded everything in the back stock room. Her head was throbbing.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Hope moved her eyes across the room to another door, a wooden one that leads to a large windowed store that she couldn’t distinguish from the rest of them on the boulevard. “You got hit in the head pretty hard, though. I was starting to get worried.”

A girl, a beautiful girl shrouded in the emerald light of the storm stood with a bottle of unopened water. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun and a t-shirt, branded with a fancy crest and the words Myrtle Beach, stood at attention. Her eyes were what stuck with Hope the most, reflecting such raw concern.

“What happened?” Her voice was scratchy and foreign to her ears.

“Well, if I’m reading the situation correctly. You ignored every single warning on television, and by the national guard, and by whatever higher power created the hurricane in the first place by going out to catch some waves.” The girl closed the space between them and uncapped the water before shoving it Hope’s way.

Hope remembered that part just fine. “I lost my car keys.”

“And you got knocked out by an Umbrella. Drink all of that.”

She eyed the water warily but took a few sips before the cold numbed her throat and she lowered the bottle. The stranger seemed to be satisfied enough, she took it back before setting it to the side. Hope moved until she was situated at the end of the sofa.

“Thank you,” Her voice was slight and whispered. “I was being stupid and I could have died and… thank you, it’s not often you meet a kind stranger. Not here.”

She nodded and Hope would like to think that she understood. Would like to think that she would rush out into the storm to save someone she didn’t know too- but some part of her knew that with conditions like this in a city like this, she probably wouldn’t.

“I’m Lizzie,” The girl finally said.

“Hope,”

“Well, Hope, it looks like we might be here for a while. Garden City flooded completely.” She looked around the stock room, taking in the escape routes in case the water decided to rise too far and push against the inside of the store. “I’ve been listening to an old radio but that’s about to go out too.”

Hope let out a small groan and moved her head around. Her neck was stiff and there was a ringing in her right ear. She wondered if she had the imprint of a beach umbrella on the side of her face, and she wondered even more how Lizzie got her out of that wet suit. Her cheeks were suddenly red and eyes dark.

“Wait- did you see me naked?”

Lizzie lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and plopped down on the couch next to Hope. A healthy amount of dust pooled into the air. “You were going to catch your death if you stayed in that thing- and I swear up and down that I didn’t look intentionally.”

Hope chuckled and the sound was soft. “Did you at least like what you saw?”

The near-stranger stopped mumbling through her sentences and drew in a sharp breath. Those deep eyes bore into her own and Hope felt a chill rush through her. She knew how to outlast a hurricane- everyone who lived in this city did. And the lack of alcohol, and in this case, power, sparked something odd into her.

“I mean, did you, I’m not trying to. Isn’t it an intrusion to?” Lizzie took a deep breath to still her words. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Mm,” Hope hummed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know if I got a concussion or not, but this whole knight in shining armor thing is very alluring.”

“Is it?” Lizzie had a bit of an edge to her voice and even in the greyish green light, they grew deeper in color.

Hope found herself leaning closer, over the middle cushion of the sofa. Because this was irrefutably her worst idea yet. For once, someone else had saved her, even if it was from a rainbow-colored beach umbrella. She considered it a win. She also considered the way Lizzie smelled light of lavender and rustic like the rain that had dried against her clothes.

Lizzie closed the distance between the two of them, her fingers soft against the edge of Hope’s chin. She tasted fresh, and her touch was gentle but rushed. Lizzie wicked her other hand through damp hair and bit down against her bottom lip, coaxing a moan from Hope’s chest.

Lizzie’s hand was moving, sliding evenly across her neck before resting close to her collarbone and she moved closer. In one fluid motion, Hope was suddenly being straddled, legs on either side of her as they pushed into the cushions of the couch.

Hope bucked forward under the weight and Lizzie pulled back slightly, “Let’s not get too excited-“She instructed and Hope nodded, feeling a pang at the loss of warmth that now hung between them.

The blonde went back to work, this time moving her lips to the nave of Hope’s neck, biting and nipping lightly at her pulse point as the shorter girl growled in anticipation, leaning her head against the back of the couch. This girl was a tease- a skilled, but strong mannered tease.

She hadn’t noticed the way Lizzie’s hand moved across the contours of her skin, and the hot molten trails that each finger left behind as she neared the edge of her underwear. The fabric was cold and slightly damp from the wet suit, but even Hope could tell that that was nothing more than an excuse.

“God Lizzie, Please-“Hope mumbled, breathy and barely audible.

Her cheeks flushed to a different shade of red, she had never been one to beg. But as Lizzie's touch dropped between her legs she couldn’t help but squirm. Fingers traced evenly against her folds and a jolt of excitement moved through her like blood.

“What was that?” Lizzie snarled.

“I need you,” Hope panted out.

“Need me to what?”

She was starting to get frustrated, wanting to lift her hips, finally getting the sensation that she craved. But the patient look on Lizzie’s face was enough for her to struggle in steadying her breath, her words were still ragged “I need you to fuck me.”

The grin against Lizzie’s lips was animalistic and dark as she smiled into a biting kiss, she expertly pressed into Hope with a flowing motion akin to relief, two fingers working inside of her in a steady tempo that seemed to match up with her increasing heart rate.

Hope whimpered into Lizzie’s mouth, the sensation vibrating through her in the same rush that this morning had; that same edge of danger and content that standing at the edge of the ocean while storm clouds subtly rolled in and black waves towered over her.

“Fuck,” Hope snarled, dragging both of her hands down Lizzie’s back, not caring how the fabric of the shirt felt under her nails. The taller woman increased her tempo, and Hope took to arching her back throat tight with the rhythm of a snare drum. “Please…”

“Please what, Hope?”

She glowered at the woman straddling her; because Lizzie had all the power. Had every inch of it. She was cocky and snide and Hope thought that if they met under other circumstances she wouldn’t be the one pinned down.  “Let me cum”

Lizzie gave her a pointed look and slowed her movements.

“Please,” She repeated, this time softer, with less anger.

Lizzie seemed satisfied enough and worked her fingers harder than she had before, pressing inside of her until Hope felt like she couldn’t quite breathe right, and the stars in her eyes began to circle like a constellation. She pulled herself forward, nose pressed against the side of Lizzie’s neck as she stifled a moan against her hair.

Hope tightened around Lizzie’s fingers and breathed in that same alluring scent of sweet and rain-soaked bliss. She resisted the urge to bit down on something and instead pulled Lizzie closer as she let out a sigh of content, but just as quickly began to ache as the abundance of touch was pulled away.

“That was one hell of an introduction,” Hope panted, swallowing back the taste in her mouth as Lizzie smirked like a wolf. Devious but ever so captivating. Both of her hands were on Hope’s shoulders before she reached to the side and grabbed the half-empty bottle.

“Drink the rest of this,” She commanded and Hope rolled her eyes, “I’m serious, you might have a concussion and-“

Hope shook her head and grasped the collar of Lizzie’s shirt, pulling her close, breath hot on the side of her cheek. “I’m fine.” She rumbled pushing Lizzie away from her gently until the taller woman was laying on her back, despite the musty sofa and the cold rain the poured outside. She ignored the headache and straddled the girl's stomach.

“I think it’s your turn, Lizzie. On one condition.”

Hope traced her fingers against Lizzie’s collarbone, her breath picking up and eyes darting frantically in an attempt to read the misty expression on her face. “And what’s that?”

“I hope you remember how to beg,”  

[shirtlesssammy]

15x08: Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven

Then:

Fighting the good fight since 2010

Now:

At the Lucky Elephant Casino, God’s knocking back fruity drinks, playing slots, and murdering everyone around him. Things don’t look so fun in Chuck-land. 

Meanwhile, Eileen is living her best new life hunting a werewolf. She’s kicking butt but has a temporary setback when Sam shows up. She shoves him out of the way to finish the job. She asks Sam if he’s following her. MAYBE he’s being a little overprotective, but c’mon, he did just bring her back from the dead. I’m guessing he’d like to keep her on the side of the living a little longer than a week or two.

Later at the bunker, they’re eating their respective burger (Eileen) and salad (Sam), and Dean walks in with the demon tablet. He’s hoping the tablet will reveal a weak spot with God. They’re going to need Donatello!

Cas knock’s on Donny’s door. Hmm, I see, divorced husbands still communicating about the case and Cas still doing things for the cause. 

Donatello comes back to the bunker, but isn’t happy about it. He gets to work eating chicken wings and translating the tablet again. Sam, Dean, and Cas casually hang out in the library and sneak concerned looks towards the prophet.

Donny finds some footnotes written by Metatron about God’s secret fear that he only shared with “his favorite.” Lucifer was already locked away by the time the tablets were written. He must mean Michael. The problem with finding Michael is that he’s locked away in the Cage. Donatello starts to freak out over how overly dramatic TFW’s lives are but then passes out in a chair. He comes to --but it’s Chuck this time communicating directly through his prophet. He tells them to leave it alone. Then he threatens all the women in their lives if they don’t (and I just hate/love this because this calls back to early SPN so much when the women died for all their man-pain.)

They tell Donatello to go home. Then they all decide (Cas reluctantly) to go to Hell to find Michael. Dean sarcastically tells Cas that he can “stay here” at the bunker. And I can’t for the life of me find the post now, but whoever made a post of Dean increasingly going from sarcasm to flat out begging for Cas to stay at the bunker is my hero. 

In the bunker’s kitchen, they cast the same spell Rowena used to get Cas and Belphagor to Hell before. Dean cuts his hand as part of the spell (something he’s done a thousand times before) and Cas takes the time to heal him (but doesn’t touch him like he normally does) and it takes so much of him to do it. I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit before proceeding. 

Once in Hell, Cas leads the way until they run into a bunch of badass lady demons that completely kick their asses. Well, they do until a very familiar voice bellows, “STOP!”

It’s ROWENA!!! 

She’s now Queen of Hell. She’s also posturing up a storm. Ah. They tell her they want to lock up Chuck and they’re looking for Michael. She tells them he could be anywhere. The Cage opened just like the rest of the doors in Hell. She sends her demon minions to find Michael. 

Back at the bunker, Eileen is watching over the spell, and she gets a call from Sue, another hunter. She needs help with a vamp nest. Eileen agrees to help as soon as she’s done helping TFW. 

In Hell, TFW meets with Rowena in her throne room. She tells Sam that killing her was a good thing. She’s queen! Then she asks him to get her another drink (!) so she can have a little therapy time with the other two clowns. She tells them to “fix it” because there’s no reconciliation in death. A demon comes in to inform them that Michael “is nowhere to be found.”

For Perfect Framing Science:

Actually, he can be found at Jaci’s Red Wagon diner. It seems that Adam and Michael are good buds and Adam’s currently enjoying his first burger in ten years. 

Dean checks in with Donatello just one more leeeetle time to see if he’s gotten any Chuck-adjacent flashes. Just when you think you’re out, yadda yadda yadda… He THEN checks in with Sam about Eileen. She is FINE, Dean, they have “an agreement.” Dean picks up on Sam’s waffling, and tells Sam that she fits the parameters of a potential partner: she knows the life, plus she’s hot. That’s way better than the life Sam tried to build with Amelia, a bag of limes, and a dog. This conversation is also notable for Dean’s admission that he’d been in a very dark place not long ago but he’s climbing out of it now.

At the diner, Adam continues to chill with Michael and contemplate the future when Lilith arrives. 

She’s there to bring Michael to Chuck. “I’m not accustomed to being fetched,” Michael says coldly. It looks like things are headed towards fisticuffs when Michael just…burns her to ash right there. Ah, archangels. (Side note: I rewatched this section with the sound off while gathering images and watching her performance is every bit as engaging. I’ll miss you, scrunchy-nose Lilith.)

Donatello has a vision and sees Michael’s spiteful smiting (smiteful?). He calls Dean with Michael’s location. He’s in Cairo! Time for Dean to hop on a plane and hold Cas’s hand nervously the entire time… I’m ready for an airplane destiel fic episode!

Cas has an alternate, non-hand-holding suggestion. He’ll pray to Michael instead. In the quiet of an upstairs corner of the bunker, next to a REAL and also METAPHORICAL CHESS SET, Cas characterizes their last meeting as “unpleasant” and asks to meet up. “I’m not your enemy anymore. Now we all have the same enemy. God himself.”

Mmmkay, compelling words. Michael meets Cas in a warehouse. He remembers Cas. “You called me assbutt and set me on fire.” LOL, classic. Cas faces Michael stoically and lights a circle of holy oil around him. That’s the Winchester’s cue to enter and they do so with STYLE.

DAMN!

Dean presents a set of warded cuffs for Michael’s consideration. There’s clearly only one way out of the circle of fire.

For Check out the Curtains Made of Chains SO PRETTY Science:

Michael is twenty-five shades of pissed off at being confined. In the bunker he accuses the Winchesters of abandoning their brother and then shocks them all by flashing Adam back in control. 

Adam seems much more chill than Michael and reveals that he and the archangel only had each other in the cage so they came to an agreement. Dean, who only recently stopped dragging himself around in a post-Michael traumatic haze, is gobsmacked that Michael’s letting Adam walk and talk. He tells Adam that there’s nothing they can say to fix what they did by leaving him in the cage. “How about ‘I’m sorry?’” Adam suggests.

Michael wrests back control and we go back to Chuck talk. Team Free Will attempts to briefly explain that Chuck isn’t trying to usher in “boring” paradise. Instead, Michael’s dad would rather see everybody suffer, including Michael.

Adam pops back behind the helm and advises them to stop their paltry attempt at convincing Michael of Chuck’s perfidy. On his (their) own, Adam unpacks the situation. He doesn’t forgive the Winchesters for what they did, but he does think they’re operating from good intentions. I don’t remember where I saw this online, but somebody posted that they have never liked Adam more than in this episode. I completely agree! There’s a lovely amount of complexity and growth hinted at through this performance.

Michael finds it hard to shake off a near-eternity of being God’s favored son. God is “having a mid-eternity crisis,” Adam suggests. Maybe Michael should at least entertain the possibility that Chuck isn’t on the up-and-up. Michael doesn’t want to doubt his father. “You still care about that after he left you in the cage?” Adam asks.

Meanwhile, Eileen’s friend Sue calls again. She’s ready to move on the vamps and needs backup NOW. When Eileen hesitates, Sue needles her about having to ask for permission. Eileen rises to Sue’s barb and agrees to meet up. The camera tumbles, Sue swears, and Eileen acts immediately as the call ends. She races to Sam’s room and fills him in on her friend’s perilous situation. Together, they run off to give Sue backup. (I love how this scene both shows Eileen’s need to assert her own independence and her absolute trust and pragmatism in getting Sam to back her up.) 

Cas heads in to speak with Adam/Michael. Michael is still not on board the fight-Chuck train. Cas responds with sass, as is his custom. “I never liked you. I thought you were too haughty. Too…to paraphrase a friend, you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.” 

Now Cas finds him pitiable. Michael isn’t God’s favorite. He’s just a tiny part of Chuck’s favorite soap opera. DAMN, Cas. 

Cas goes even further, telling Michael that Lucifer was the smart one all along, and Michael SNAPS. He flips Cas over the table and gets him in a headlock. Cas struggles, and manages to lock both his hands on Michael’s temples. It’s brain zapping time! Even an archangel is no match for Cas’s mind mojo, and Cas dumps a clip show of Chuck being a dick writer into Michael’s head. 

Later, Cas decompresses alone in the kitchen. Dean arrives, then suggests that Cas might have misjudged the situation and gone too far with Michael. D E A N. Before Cas left, Michael essentially said, “Leave. Get out. I want you dead.” We’ve all been in agony for several days now over the parallels between this line and what Cas thinks he’s getting from Dean and AAAAUGH THE SWEET PAIN OF IT. “We didn’t bond,” Cas summarizes. If you need me, I’ll be hunched in this burning dumpster, muttering about profound bonds. 

The bunker rattles, and they race to Michael’s room. He greets them with, “God lied to me.” He gave everything for Chuck, but it turns out he’s not even unique across the multiverse if there are other Michaels out there. 

Sam and Eileen arrive at the hunt and discover abandoned vehicles. Sam’s suspicion bone is tingling, but then Sue shows up. She’s got this swagger, so Boris and I immediately assume she’s been turned into a vamp because we’ve been watching this show since forever. Uh, Sue’s not a vamp. She’s Chuck! Or…you know, Chuck’s her! [Admiral Ackbar voice] It’s a trap!

Michael agrees to help Team Free Will. He pulls out a slip of paper with a spell on it that can contain Chuck just like it contained Amara. All they need is myrrh, cassia, rock-rose, and the nectar of a leviathan blossom. It’s a flower that grows in Purgatory. Michael opens up a rift-style door with the snap of his fingers.

The door will stay open for twelve hours. Dean uncuffs Michael/Adam and apologizes for what happened to his half brother. Adam smiles sadly and wishes them luck in their Chuck-fighting endeavors. After he/they leave, Cas and Dean turn towards the glowing rift. It’s Purgatory time, baby! And you know what they say about Purgatory. It’s the perfect place to work out your emotions in a friendly, non-deadly environment!

Quotingmoon in Purgatory:

There’s a crack in his invincibility shield

When I go crazy again, just shoot me

Usually I enjoy our little process. I toss something at you guys and you slam it right back. It’s fun! Like tennis! With monsters

What am I picking up from you two? A wee tif? Tell your Auntie Rowena

Why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?

Oh, I didn’t come to beg

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[theromnempire]

The Dead of Night

Title: The Dead of Night Word Count: 1,346 Pairings: Intrulogical, platonic DLAMP, (Platonic Prinxiety or Rociet if you look hard enough) Warnings: blood, kind of gore, ghosts, ouija board, cemetery, Halloween Summary: Logan didn’t believe in the supernatural the way his friends did, but with their luck, he should have known to expect even his precious science to betray him.

Logan knew better than to mess around with a Ouija board, or at least he should have.

He didn’t particularly believe in ghosts—he was a man of science, after all—but with his friends, the uncanny was to be expected.

“Come on, Lo, not scared, are you?” Roman teased, tossing the football that was part of his costume his way and chuckling when Logan fumbled it.

“Hardly,” he countered, tossing the ball back but misjudging it so it instead bounced off Roman’s knees. “I just think there are better things to do on Halloween.”

“Like give out candy to sugar-rushed fiends? Re-watch pathetic ‘horror’ movies while Patton complains about a stomach ache because he had too much chocolate? Where’s the thrill in that, the adventure?”

Roman grinned at his friend, clasping D’s shoulder while saying, “At last, someone is speaking my language.”

“And Logan, what of a new discovery? The damn scientific method?”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Logan replied stubbornly, glancing to Virgil—the second most logical in the group—for support.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, “could be fun.”

Surprisingly, Patton was the one to interject, “Maybe . . . maybe we shouldn’t. This is the one night a year the ghosts have off because everyone is too busy doing other things to summon them. They might get angry.”

“We’ll be quick,” Roman affirmed, offering both Patton and Virgil—dressed as Peter Pan and the headless horseman respectively—a hand to pull them to their feet. Then he took the lead, opening the front door with Dee following close behind. “Come on now, Geek Squad.”

What we’ll be is dead, he thought, shaking his head before pulling up the rear, picking up the Ouija board that the others had almost forgotten and closing the door behind him.

The cemetery wasn’t far, just down the street, so they went on foot. The sidewalks were packed with kids cloaked in fabrics of every shade from ghost-white to pure midnight black. Princesses, pirates, heroes, villains, and monsters ruled the night, running from house to house as their parents tiredly followed at a distance. They paid the teenagers no mind and likewise, Logan and his friends ignored them.

But he remained cautious, apprehensive because, really, there was no scientific explanation for why his skin crawled. They were surrounded by people and the lights of their flashlights led the way, remaining on even as they slipped into the woods—leaves crunching beneath their sneakers—and towards the front gates of the cemetery.

The erected tombstones were silent thrones, marking corpses that have been decomposing for centuries and blocking out the hush of the wind as they all sat on the cold, hard ground.

“Did you remember the board, Roman?”

“I have it,” Logan said, placing it in the middle of the circle the others had created before taking a step back.

“Too scared to join, Lo?”

“There’s only enough room for a few of us and I am the least inclined to participate . . . so unless you are too scared and want me to join in, I’ll sacrifice my spot for you,” he countered, the banter almost too easy between him and his best friend. Roman scrunched his nose in response before turning back to the board, fingers brushing against his friends’ as he placed two of his on the eye.

Patton hesitated, eyes flickering back to Logan with his arms crossed and back leaning against a tombstone so old that the name was no longer distinguishable. He looked genuinely frightened.

“Don’t worry,” Logan assured in a quiet voice so that the others wouldn’t be able to hear, “there’s nothing to fear because it isn’t real. There’s no place after our world and, frankly, I don’t believe in the existence of souls because there is no proof and therefore, no way for the living to return as a ghost or anything of that nature.”

But Roman, Virgil, and Dee had already begun, Patton now unable to join as they moved their hands around clockwise and recited a phrase in hushed voices that Logan could barely hear. They were hesitant despite their earlier excitement. Something was amiss.

“Is there anyone here?” Dee called, voice rising to a normal tone. “If so, speak to us.”

Silence, not even the wind dared to breathe.

He repeated, “Is there anyone-”

At once, the flashlights from their phones went out, all dying as a cloud raced to conceal the moon, plunging them into an impregnable darkness.

Roman and Patton screamed, Virgil bit the inside of his cheek, and Dee’s breath hitched. Logan glanced down at his phone, brows furrowing as he tried to turn it back on, but not even the red bar flickered onto the dark screen. Not dead, tampered with, then.

Dee tried again, “Is there any-”

“YES, NOW SHUT UP!”

The five boys turned towards the disembodied voice, paling as a translucent figure floated inches above the ground with something that looked like blood dripping down from both its eyes and its mouth.

Logan tried to speak but found himself unable to, payalyzed as Virgil—in a moment of fight or flight—grabbed Roman by the wrist and took off, Patton on their heels.

Finding his voice but not looking away, he said to Dee, “How did you-”

“I didn’t.”

He was silent for a moment, feeling his heart race and beg him to follow it out of the cemetery. “Oh.”

The ghost—a boy that must’ve been about their age—grinned wider at the exchange, eyes almost horrifically wide and drawing attention away from the stitches adorning his neck and cheeks. He moved closer and Dee abandoned the board, Logan, and the ghost without a second thought. But even in his cowardly flight, he seemed to glide with purpose more than run for his life like the others had.

Logan stayed, unable to look away.

“Why don’t you run?”

Without missing a beat, and speaking without thinking much of it, he said, “Because there’s nothing to be afraid of.” And you’re somehow the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He left that last part out, not sure exactly where it had even come from. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what it was, maybe just the beauty of scientific discovery and realizing just how mysterious and incredible the world he lived in was. But when the ghost took a step forward (would they be considered steps? he was floating, after all—a question for Logan to ponder later), his chest constricted. He concluded that it wasn’t that, not at all.

“What’s your name?”

“Names have power,” the ghost countered, smirking as he moved closer still, until they were less than a foot away. “And I won’t tell you mine unless you tell me yours.”

“Logan,” he said, feeling that there was no need to lie about it.

“Logan, Logan, Logan . . . I knew a Logan in life.”

“I’m sure, we are far from a minority.”

“Funnier than the others, aren’t we?”

“Your name,” Logan insisted, watching as the other’s head turned all the way around his body, hands reaching up to grab his head and straighten it as if it had moved on its own accord.

“And you’re sure you want to know, Logan, one of many? Finding out means creating a bond and . . . well, I’d have no reason to ever leave your side.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth flickered upward, the first hint of emotion other than shock he had revealed the entire night. “Perfect, a man can’t run experiments on an absent test subject.”

“Remus,” he said, looking away after and Logan’s phone sprang to life. He glanced down for a second, the bright light surrounded by the dark apple logo catching his attention, and when he looked up, Remus was gone.

Logan’s flashlight had turned back on and was directed to the ouija board where the eye was moving on its own accord. He crouched down beside it, silently recording the letters as the ghost, Remus, communicated.

You should be scared, I could kill you.

“Please,” Logan snorted, picking up the board and the eye before carrying it out of the cemetery, “I’d like to see you try.”

-

Author’s Note

just a quick little thing i wrote in one sitting in order to get over writer’s block. i was just going to make it a headcanon but thought why not write a fic to get the juice’s flowing?

thanks for reading and happy halloween! ronnie

[sparrowsabre7]

Just noticed that another codec tune is the start of "rockabye baby".

Anyway, didn't bother writing up my last few trips as not much eventful happened, still trudging around the mountain at this point.

Back at Heartman's room, giving the BT model a hearty tap for the lulz.

Heartman's telling me about how Mama's body has high concentrations of midicholorians, sorry, Chiral matter, more than is usual for the average human. All this serious expo talk being delivered with a birds eye view down the corpse's cleavage. Stay classy Hideo!

Weird, Heartman's about to go down but he just said he restarted a second ago... oh shit son! He modified the network timers to have no record of the conversation, this is some serious conspiracy shit! He says the BT that went to grab the BT baby was Mama's sould, still somehow tethered to her body by the umbilical cord. Deadman's being patched in and throwing more shade on Die-Hardman. The umbilical cord I delivered was Bridget's, she apparently had it outside of her body, with no necrotisation, just like Mama. Meaning the cord was somehow connected to the beach. My guess is she maybe had a BT baby or somehow the first BB was born from her rather than a braindead mother.

Heartboi now goes on to say chiralium has been found at all major extinction events and theorises that the death stranding is merely the latest in a long line of earth's contact with a beach and thus were are in the middle of a new extinction era. He's saying that some archaeological and paleontological discoveries may not have been frozen in the sense of ice but frozen in time as though on the beach. He links this argument with evidence of several remains having the same umbilical cord but not for childbirth, as o e is found on a dinosaur, but as a strand to the beach, just like the BTs have cords.

So these corded beings are not just connected to the beach but potentially also the "extinction entity" that caused a death stranding, implying Bridget was one too.

Assuming Bridget was an EE then Amelie may also be one, hence Higgs' interest.

*pause to catch breath*

Ok, right. Better... do... stuff then.

Got to link up the Chiral station then cross the tar. Fuck me this is an arduous journey, made more so by the fact there's no private room to figuratively and literally recharge my batteries at Heartman's. Ok here I go, using some randos bike as long as I ca- oh BT town. Great. This is horrible, I'm having to build a generator in the middle of this shithole because I can't fight back without a power skeleton as I'm carrying too much. Ah a private room up ahead, thank god.

Are you FUCKING joking!? It's not even built, why put it on the map. Selfish twat.

Finally out of the mountains; grass! A bike! Yes, now we're talking! Hope I don't run into any more trouble, he said sarcastically hoping that in doing so he would prevent trouble.

Ah of course. The "BT here sign" was a red herring. It's actually terrorists. Fuck's sake. Literally just driven right into their camp.I am so unprepared.

"That looks shallow" he thought, stupidly, as he crashed directly into a stream and was flung unceremoniously off the trike. Guess I'm legging it the last *checks notes* 852 metres. That's not so bad I suppose.

Just going to sit on this rock and then stand in the river to recover stamina and canteen respectively.

Jesus Christ nearly lost all cargo after misjudging my stamina in the river. Luckily it all washed up next to me but by god this has been a tough trek.

Thank god, just about made it. Please let me rest now.

Nope, gotta cross the tar. Ok. Fine. Looks like the method is to get caught by a BT according to the emails, which seem to have replaced "Colonel tells you" as the modus operandi for giving hints.

Literally nowhere nearby for me to properly rest so just got to sleep out exposed for a while until I hopefully regain some stamina.

Not much but let's see. Oh ok, got my stamina 100% refilled just for this sequence. Nice! Another spectacular set piece, running across the tar supermerged buildings, like a gloopy Inception. Amelie was stood in the tar at the end like an oily jesus but it ended up triggering a cutscene where I got dragged down and sent to the beach, where Amelie is singing London bridge is falling down. Just a thought, how come Amelie has clothes but Sam doesn't? It was the same when we saw Heartman's beach: he and all its inhabitants were fully clothed.

Anyway, Sam wakes up and Higgs is there to be creepy and monologue about masks. I feel like I wasn't paying proper attention or missed something because I thought Higgs already had Amelie but he's saying once the Chiral networks online he will be able to track her location. He then puts his gold skull mask on Sam which burns him but leaves no mark and seems to have no other effect so fuck knows what that was about. Oh and he licks Sam; which I am actually happy about because it retroactively makes it a little less weird that he licked Fragile, he's just a guy who licks people.

Die-Hardman says the last stage is here so just need to connect the distro and then Edge Knot; "take your time, and do it right." Not 10 seconds later he's calling to say "Sam, what's the hold up? Get that centre online." Prick.

I take a nap and Amelie is now teleporting around my room like Higgs being vague about secrets and that her real name is Amerigo after the first man to discover America. "Sam says what about Columbus?" and Amelie says, "it's a lie, America is all a lie".

*Deep breath* ok, now I am all here for Columbus erasure, and sure maybe Amerigo did see America first or whatever, but ultimately it's still horseshit because a) the vikings got there way earlier and b) PEOPLE ALREADY LIVED THERE. Like, fuck, the "it's built on a lie" thing still rings true but definitely coming at it from the wrong angle. It's like Kojima did a BIT of research to try and get an "a ha!" moment over the audience, perhaps not considering that most people no longer actually give a shit about the "discovery" of America and generally agree Columbus is a turd anyway.

Back to the game, she confirms she is an extinction entity and thus we need to get to her before Higgs. She also drops in that she was born on a beach, so she must have been connected to the umbilical cord Bridget had.

In any case, I'm getting the feeling that Higgs is gearing up for a boss fight and given nothing else is on this rock that seems a fairly solid theory. It's amazing given how underpopulated the rest of the game is, that this area somehow still manages to feel more lonely than the rest of the game. Maybe because it's one of the few city escapes and there's no landscape around. It's like Henry David Thoreau said, we are never truly alone in nature.

[moonbeambucky]

Red, White and You

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 1301 Warnings: fluff

Summary: Fireworks are bursting in the hearts of the Tuckers as they celebrate the Fourth of July with friends and family 

A/N: Surprise! This was not planned but thanks to an ask by @all1e23 on how the Tucker’s would celebrate the 4th of July I turned what was supposed to be a quick answer into a quick fic.

Crowded around the kitchen table are Ariel and Theo, excitedly bouncing in their seats. No matter how many times Lance tells them to sit on their tushies they can’t. No more than ten seconds later and they’re sitting on their knees, teeming with excitement. Eager hands slap against the table as they wait for you to finish at the stove and come over.

It’s the morning of the Fourth of July. Breakfast had been served, whole wheat pancakes with rows of strawberries and bananas for stripes and blueberries doing their best to substitute for stars. The kids helped wash the dishes, sitting on the counter with a dish towel in each lap, with Lance watching as they dried their lightweight plates and cups.

Now they had been waiting an hour. Well, it was more like ten minutes but in your kids’ minds that was practically forever. You tried explaining that melting chocolate takes time but really they didn’t care. They were more than ready to help prepare one of the many desserts you’ll be serving at the party you’re having later.

It’s nothing too big. Your parents are on their way up and planning to stay for the weekend. Laura was coming over as well and bringing her son Ethan. The invitation for his first birthday party next month is hanging on your fridge. You couldn’t believe he was nearly a year old. It seemed like just yesterday you were visiting her after she and her husband Matthew brought him home from the hospital. Then again it seemed like you were just bringing Theo home from the hospital, same for Ariel. You couldn’t believe she would be turning five this year.

Matthew had been away for work for the past week and Laura had been missing him a lot. She was thankful your party would be able to take her mind off his absence as she celebrated with you.

Your friends Ava and Erick were bringing over their twins, Terrence and Jordyn, a boy and a girl also about two and a half, like Theo. You and Lance became close with them after the kids had been in the same daycare. It was only for a few hours each day so you could introduce Theo to more kids. He made fast friends with the twins and now it seemed like every week there was a play date scheduled.

Ariel had her own friend coming over, Kennedy, her best friend as she’s corrected you many times before. Though the girls have known each other for a while it wasn’t until a few months ago that you started talking regularly with her mother Lindsay.

When you first met her you thought she and her husband Justin were snobs but realized you had misjudged them. It’s a lesson you’ll have to teach Ariel but not with this example. You can’t risk her telling Kennedy’s parents how you first felt about them.

It was a known fact in your family never to tell Ariel a secret, learned the hard way when she ruined a surprise party for your parents. Of course they didn’t mind but still. Lance teased her a bit by calling her his little Blabberfish.

“Okay who’s ready to dip strawberries?” you asked, finally bringing over the freshly melted white chocolate.

With you and Lance carefully assisting the kids dipped strawberries into the white chocolate, and quickly into a small dish filled with blue sugar sprinkles. An easy red, white and blue themed dessert that the kids loved making. Despite sticky fingers it was a real parenting win.

A watermelon sat on the counter, ready to be cut up later with a star shaped cookie cutter set aside for the kids. Ariel and Theo had no problems eating fruit but Ava said the twins were being fussy. If one kid dislikes something the other will agree with them just to side with their sibling. Right now fruit was their enemy so you hoped the fun shapes would help.

By noon your parents had arrived and you set their things upstairs in the guest bedroom. They entertained the kids while you and Lance set up a table for the food on the veranda.

He was looking as handsome as ever, freshly shaved with his hair gelled up. A few months away from turning forty and yet his body was practically as toned as he was when he was competing. His tanned skin popped against the crisp white t-shirt and matching sneakers he wore. The blue of his eyes were brought out by the color of his long chino shorts. He smiled, bright and beautiful and you stopped setting out silverware in favor of cupping his cheeks, and bringing the softness of his lips to yours.

Fireworks were set off in your stomach like they never fail to do every time you kissed Lance. From that first kiss on New Year’s Eve to every kiss in between, each one a burst of joy that celebrated your love.

Lance pulled away first before his shorts grew tight. The idea of sneaking in a quickie was tempting but with your parents right there, guests on the way, and food needing to be cooked he knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“Fireworks won’t be the only things exploding tonight,” he whispered in the shell of your ear. His teeth gently graze at your pulse point and he sucked a wet kiss in the junction of your neck. And with the promise of a night that will end with a bang you get back to work.

Guests arrived in the early afternoon. Lance and your father took control of the barbecue while your mom cooed over little Ethan’s chubby cheeks and wispy blond hair, and Laura did not mind the break.

You joined Ava and Lindsay at the edge of the pool to watch the kids, dangling your legs in the cool water as you watched Ariel and Kennedy make up a game that reminded you of your younger days with Lance. Theo and the twins were sitting on the steps of the pool with Erick mediating a splash fight that got a little out of hand. You wiped away tears that had mixed in with the wetness of Theo’s face and after an apology things were quickly forgotten.

The kids continued to play in the pool for a little while longer and they dried themselves off by running around the yard in the blazing sun. They were having so much fun they didn’t want to stop and eat but you forced them to.

“Two more bites,” Lance said to Theo on his lap, bribing him with more play time as long as he eats some more food.

It’s late by the time the sky is covered with a deep shade of midnight. Everyone is gathered together to watch the fireworks from the yard, except Ethan who was sleeping soundly inside. Laura clutched the baby monitor you set up for her in case he woke up.

“Is a boom!” Theo jumped with joy, pointing at the fireworks.

Ariel held her fingers in her ears as she watched the sky burst with color, and looking over your shoulder you chuckled at your mom who was doing the same.

The loudest firework was an explosion of glittery gold, shimmering across the sky. It reminded you of Lance as gold never failed to. You intertwined your fingers with his, bringing Lance’s hand up to your lips so you could place a kiss to it.

Lance turned towards you, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile as soft as his gaze. Your face was illuminated by flashes of red and white, but he ignored the bursts of color in the sky, because the most beautiful thing to look at was you.

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 1 of 21

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DARING DO and the

ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck) @ask-de-writer​

And

Carmen Pondiego @askcarmenpondiego​

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images. 

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

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Daring Do was sitting at the bar of the Adventurer’s Guild, sipping her coconut milk and pineapple juice.  She was still steaming about the Royal Museum’s Acquisition Committee trying to put her last find, the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock, through “the routine process.”  

The routine process gave them the possession of the neckalce for over a year before she could see any return on the difficult, expensive, and dangerous expedition to obtain the priceless artifact.

Her recovery of it from Count Umber had involved a physical altercation.  The memory made her sweet drink taste sour.

Glancing into the back bar mirror, she casually placed a hoof on her pith helmet.  A business suited pony approached her, proffering a card.  Instead of taking the card, Daring Do swiftly lifted her pith helmet.  A knife, aimed at the suited pony stood quivering in her hat, sunk deep into the cork.

She pulled the knife out and flipped it casually back.  The thump of it striking hilt first was followed by the collapse of the silken robed pony who had thrown it.

She turned toward the shaken business suited pony who had just paled three shades of yellow green lighter.  Brightly, she said, “Well, that was a few moments of rollicking fun!  What do you have for me?”

With a shaking hoof, he proffered a card.  “Please call us at your earliest convenience. If you wish, I can take you to the appointment."

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Appointment?  You would make an appointment without asking me?  A bit arrogant, aren’t you?  I have some personal business to take care of first.  I will call later, after it is done.”  She turned her back and pointedly resumed her drink.

It tasted better, for some reason.

She sat at the bar until she was sure that he was gone, sipping her drink, the case with the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock safely in her saddlebag.  Daring Do hated what she had to do next.

She and her mother, Carmen Pondiego, master thief and head of V.I.L.E., did not see eye to eye on ANYTHING.  However, her mom’s advice was the best that she was going to find.  Daring Do steeled herself and pulled out her magic net mirror.  She tapped the code that she could not forget and hated.

The glass shimmered before a dark, redheaded figure with a gleaming grin answered the call. “City Morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em. Oooh! Look who is finally dropping a line.”

Answering in a gritty voice, Daring Do spoke low. “Uncle M, I’m trying to get a hold of-” “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t go ruffling your feathers. Hey Red! Yer kid is on the line!”

Daring rolled her eyes as the view shakily changed to the beaming visage of a khaki colored unicorn mare dressed in red, her pale green eyes throwing a piercing glance at Daring Do. “Adora!! I am so glad you called! How was your trip? I hope you haven’t come across too much trouble. You know I will send some agents to help you if you ever need it.”

Daring Do rubbed her brow, “Mother, you know I hate that name, and no I don’t need your lawless agents. I… I just need some advice.”

A soft chuckle arose, “Of course, Daring dear. Now what seems to be the trouble?” Carmen lifted her brows as she calmly smiled, and the young pegasus held back a scoff. The thief seemed too friendly and eager to help, but why?

“Listen, its not trouble, I just want your -honest- opinion.”

Carmen pouted playfully, “My dear, you wound me, I have always been truthful to you.”

Sourly, Daring Do replied, “I do know that, Mother.  That is the only reason that I am calling you now.

“The expedition went well.  I even got the legendary Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock.  The assorted traps didn’t even cause much damage to the Pyramid of Keychops.

“The Royal University would not and will not underwrite the expedition but they want me to DONATE the necklace.  They even threatened my tenure in the Chair of Antiquities to get it for free.  The Royal Museum was almost worse.”

The face of Carmen in the mirror nearly lost it with hilarity.  “The Royal Museum!?  It takes over a year to sell them a glass bead!  Then they will try to push you into letting it go for less than half of your price!”

Resisting a twitch in her eye, Daring Do cleared her throat, “Listen, Ma, what… Would you LEGALLY do if you didn’t get paid for a job that you did over a year ago?”

The thief took a moment to think. “Do you really want to go through the whole legal mess of suing said offender? Of course it would make it easier if you actually had a written contract.

“Heavens knows you don’t use the office here that I gave you and you bounce around from location to location so often without a home base so I don’t have any idea where you would keep such a document anyway…”

Daring’s grip on the mirror tightened. “Mother… I DO have an office.  It is in the Royal University!  I am the Chair of Antiquities!”

“Right.  Well, I would collect whatever you agreed on selling and take it elsewhere.. Are you needing my help with that?”

Daring Do’s grip on the mirror tightened even more. “Mother … Mother.  I have already taken it back!  I also know that V.I.L.E. makes a ton of money on the, um, resale of assorted goods.”

Dryly, Carmen pointed out, “In spite of our REPUTATION, we have NEVER been caught doing or been convicted of ANY CRIME.”  Her face twisted to a cheerfully sideways smile as she added, “Give me a few moments to check our inventory of PERFECTLY LEGAL buyers.”

Instead of “hold music” the recorded image of her uncle Marehem's blue furred, orange maned visage appeared giving the commercial message, “Allstable Insurance, You are in good hooves with Allstable!  Please feel free to inquire about our customized policies and truly reasonable rates!”

Daring Do’s teeth grinding together would have been sweet music to any dentist!

Carmen’s cheerful face came back to the mirror in time to save it from being tossed across the room!

One eyebrow raised in amusement, she poked, “Adora, my sweet.  I COULD move the necklace for you. V.I.L.E. does have to be paid for their efforts, of course.  How does 20 percent sound?  I am only offering such a good rate because you are family, no matter that SOMEPONY managed totally destroy all records of her connection to her MOTHER.”

Carmen grinned as Daring Do’s teeth ground together again.  Regaining her control, she asked her mother, “Oh, another thing. Do you know anything about the ROT law offices? They offered a card, I think they want me to find something for them.”

Silence came over the mirror.

“Mom?”

Carmen sighed, “Daring, if being an outlaw taught me anything, its presentation. If you are shady, you pick a shady name for intimidation, for greater intimidation one would use a completely harmless and cheerful name, though that is rare.

“I don’t know much of them but if their name means anything, I would use extreme caution if dealing with them. It could be a bluff or it could simply be an acronym, it could mean that they are rotten to the bone. Are you sure you don’t want me to send someone…?”

“I AM FINE BY MYSELF, MOTHER. Thank you.”

“Alright, Adora, dear.  If you are in the area, we’re having lasagna at 7:00,” Carmen shrugged, blowing a motherly kiss.

“I’ll be sure to miss it..” Daring Do groaned, turning off the mirror.  She rubbed her forehead, fingers running through her monotone mane.

Daring Do was just getting ready to leave when the unconscious pony in the silken robes started to stir.  He fumbled for and recovered his knife.

Setting eyes on her he got up, made a formal Far Eastern bow and said, “Miss Do, if I may be permitted to say so, that was most ill done.  That pony and a few others with him are treacherous liars and wish to steal a priceless thing to which they have no right.”

Daring Do returned quietly, “It was very bad form of you to try murdering him here, in this club. The alley or even the street outside would have been better.

“As for his character, I already know that much of him and his associates.  What more can you tell me?”

Haughtily he dodged her question.  “You knew of his evil ways and still chose to listen to him?  Perhaps I have misjudged you.”

She made a formal Far Eastern bow to him and replied in perfect X'ibian with an ancient proverb. “The failure to listen is the greatest cause of Ignorance.”

The pony’s eyes flew wide and his face fell.  “I have erred greatly by my precipitous action.  Be sure to listen with wisdom.”

He took his leave, robes making a slight swishing sound against the carpet of the Club floor.

Daring Do followed him out but he was nowhere to be seen.  Consulting the card, she trotted up the street.

The building itself was not even hard to locate.  It had a flagpole hanging over the street with a flag of pale off green with gray letters outlined in brownish red. “The Legal Team of ROT, for all of your legal needs!” was flapping in the breeze.

She entered, thinking ironically of the old joke, “pony walked down the street and turned into a drug store.  After five sales, he bought what he wanted and changed back into a pony!”

She walked up to the receptionist and proffered the card.  The receptionist looked down her nose at Daring Do and pronounced, “You are late for your appointment.  You will have to wait for at least an hour.”

Daring Do gave her a return snooty stare and retorted, “No, I do not.  THEY made the appointment without consulting me.  I informed them that they would have to wait until my business was done.  

“I am only marginally interested in whatever they want me for.  You may inform them that they can call me at their earliest convenience to set a mutually agreeable appointment.”  She tipped her pith helmet and turned to leave.

Frantically, the receptionist called after her, “Miss Do!  Please take the elevator with the bronze doors!  The Partners will see you immediately!”

“That is better, Horstense!” Daring Do entered the elevator, which had an earth pony operator. She serenely pulled a large, double edged knife and began to carefully trim her left hoof.  Conversationally, she mentioned, “If this car gets stuck between floors, you get stuck too.  Not seriously, of course.  You will become qualified for a higher paid job, though.  Castrato in the Fallen Pony Choir.”  He paled at the thought.  The elevator ride was uneventful.

She stepped out into a foyer with big glass doors at the far end.  They had black and gilt letters proclaiming, ROT, the firm for all Legal Work.”  Beyond the doors was an office with three desks placed in a U shape with a single hard chair at the focus of the U.  The desks were not occupied, so Daring Do checked to see if the doors were unlocked.

They were.  With a grin, Daring Do entered and quickly leaped across the desk at the center.  She first lifted the comfortable, padded swivel chair out and replaced it with the hard chair.  Checking the desk itself, she found a large flagon of expensive pomegranate juice and a snifter.  There was only one door that they could enter from.  She took their waste baskets and put them where the door swinging in would just miss them. Checking the other desks yielded an assortment of documents, a number of them were maps with X'ibian characters instead of Equestrian words.

She settled herself comfortably, far back, near the doors, away from the focus of the desks.  She leaned back, smiling, and poured a healthy shot.  While studying the maps, she started sipping.

Looking closely at two of the documents caused her to pull out her Magic Net mirror and make several urgent calls.

NEXT ==>

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