Bts Science Fiction Au - Tumblr Posts
Fragmentation 0.4 - KTH
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,204
AN: And here we have Taehyung with his brother, Namjoon, in the Real World in Zion. Again, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Keep reading
Fragmentation 5.0 - KNJ
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,269
AN: Now we get Namjoon’s perspective. YAY. Also in the Real World in Zion. Again, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
“Oh look,” a voice said suddenly, “it’s the prodigy.”
Namjoon sighed as he continued typing away on one of the system computers. For the last three years, he lived in Zion’s control tower. It was where all the trainees went who hoped to become Operators for a ship. In less than a year of his boarding, Namjoon showed excellent marks in reaction time as well as hacking prowess. It was no secret that he was far ahead of the rest of his class and there were rumors that he would graduate in the next year if he continued to excel in every area of expertise they could throw at him.
That didn’t make him very popular with his peers. Then again, it wasn’t like he actually cared. They all had a common goal and as long as that remained true, then they only needed to focus on doing their jobs.
Who cared if it was some popularity contest?
“Wait guys. You know he hates that title. We have to call him by his alias, remember?”
The tone was snide and insincere. Again, Namjoon didn’t care. He had other things he needed to devote his attention to. Rumor was that he would be boarding a ship soon to help with a simple reconnaissance mission. Nothing too overly complicated, but he wasn’t about to turn his nose up to the task. The lives of Matrix Operatives were in his hands and that was a responsibility that no one should ever take lightly.
So he continued to tune out his fellow classmates, focusing his energy on the program he was creating. It was a training program that would be used in the Construct - an exercise to help hone the sensory perceptions of operatives so that Agents wouldn’t be able to get the jump on them. When Agents obtained a target, they were relentless in their pursuit until an Operator was able to get them out. Namjoon wanted to prevent such tragedies from ever taking place. What better way than to prepare the operatives in any way possible?
He received word from his mother that Taehyung would be boarding a hovercraft next year. To successfully become a pilot, a trainee needed to physically handle the controls for years. Namjoon barely saw his brother due to his own hacker training, but it was guaranteed that they would not cross paths for several more years once Taehyung boarded a vessel.
Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder, but he continued typing away at his station.
“Don’t listen to them,” said Vermillion, giving Namjoon a gentle shake.
“I don’t,” he replied, his eyes narrowing at the line of code he was reworking, “I always tune them out.”
“Typical. That’s just like you, Spectre.” Vermillion chuckled, sliding into the chair beside him. She peered over his shoulder as he continued working. “That looks pretty advanced. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”
Pressing several more keys, Namjoon saved his progress and closed out the command console. Everything was transferred to the mini disc that slid out from a tray on the main hub. He popped it into a small case and shoved it into his pocket.
“It’ll take a few more weeks before I’m satisfied.”
Namjoon stood from his chair, grabbed his bag, and made for the exit. He didn’t have to look to know that Vermillion was hot on his heels. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, but he’d come to be a very solitary person. He rarely saw his mother and there was a good chance that he wouldn’t see his brother for several years. Not until they were both finished with their respective Training Programs.
“You’re not going to report to the Head Programmer of your progress for the day?”
He smirked. “He already knows.” Turning to look at her, he continued walking. “I was told to help out at the Command Tower for a few hours.”
Vermillion’s eyes widened. “Wow. Forreal?”
He nodded and they continued walking through the various metal corridors. The shocked look on her face was well-placed. Most people didn’t get to work at the Command Tower during training because there was a high risk of something failing because of an amateur mistake. The fact that their teacher cleared him for work at the Command Tower was another testament to Namjoon’s skill level.
They reached the elevator for the Command Tower. Namjoon’s hand hesitated over the button as he looked at Vermillion. She seemed to want to say something else to him, so he waited. But after a handful of minutes of silence, he sighed and pressed the button to call the lift.
“Well, I’ll be seein’ you,” he said as he readjusted his bag’s strap along his shoulder.
The metal doors groaned as they slid open, granting him access. He stepped onto the lift and just before the doors closed, he saw Vermillion’s smile as she waved at him.
“Do well, Spectre.”
He flashed an easy grin in her direction. But once the doors were closed, the smile fell off his face immediately. Namjoon didn’t have any time to waste. There was a chance the war could be over in his lifetime. It waged on for damn near a century already. The people of Zion, human-born and field-born alike, were all tired of this seemingly never ending conflict. His parents saw the brunt of it during the beginning phases - children when their parents were fighting for their freedom.
Namjoon didn’t want to pass this burden on to his children.
To keep that from happening, he would work himself into the ground. Until there wasn’t a single breath left in his mortal body.
Four Years Later
Spectre pulled out his mini computer, booting it up to look over the dossier files of the ship he was newly assigned to. He was originally slated for Operator duty the previous year, but he opted out of it. His brother, Edge, hadn’t returned from his training tour yet. The benefit of finishing at the top of his peer group was that Spectre got to pick and choose a few things here and there.
Namely when he would be boarding a ship.
He quipped a brow at the list of crewmates on his future ship. There were some impressive resumes on the vessel. Certainly nothing he could turn his nose up at. The Admiral must have had a hand in the assignments and there was clearly a reason why Spectre was placed with that particular group. Based on the skill records of everyone on board, save for the pilot, they all had more than one year of field experience that wasn’t “on the job training”.
The Captain and First Mate in particular.
His eyes scanned over the pilot’s name and he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Spectre had all the faith in the world that his brother would make it through the Training Program, but he hadn’t expected to see his name on a crew member manifest just days after his ship docked back home.
“Yo, Big Bro!”
Spectre lowered the mini computer to his side, lifting his gaze up to see his younger brother strolling up the long metal walkway toward him. He closed the computer, slid it into his pocket, and waved to Edge. His little brother wasted no time closing the distance between them, taking off in a dead run and barrelling into him. Spectre grunted when he felt Edge’s shoulder crashing into his chest, his arms encircling around his waist. He laughed as Edge lifted him up off the ground.
“Hey,” Spectre said, patting his younger brother’s head, “a little over the top, don’t you think?”
Edge set him down, placing a fist on his hip. “Are you kiddin’ me?” He pouted. “I haven’t seen you in years. I should be setting off fireworks.”
Lifting a basket off the ground and handing it to Edge, Spectre shook his head. “Yeah, don’t do that. We’ll get court-martialed.”
Edge’s heavy steps reverberated off the metal flooring. “It would totally be worth it, though.”
“It wouldn’t, actually, but whatever.”
The brothers shared a smirk with each other.
It didn’t take them long to reach their house. The door was already open just as they saw their mother stepping out. She carried a basket of linens in her hands - presumably to go do laundry at the water recycling plant. The minute her eyes shifted in their direction, however, she seemed frozen in place. They took a few more steps toward her, watching as she dropped the basket at her feet. The dirty clothes and bedding would remain ignored. They already knew what mattered most to their mother.
“You’re back,” she finally managed, her hands trembling as she reached for them, “I knew you’d both come back home together.”
The two brothers filled their arms with their mother - holding her closer than they believed was possible. Her smell hadn’t changed and the strength in her embrace was just as they remembered it when they were children. She openly sobbed against each of their faces, overwhelmed with how much they’d changed. Yet they remained the same. They were men now, but the brothers knew that they would always be her little boys.
Her pride and glory.
After what seemed like too short a moment, their mother pried herself from them. “You two must be starving,” she said, turning to usher them into the house, “I’ll see about gathering some rations for dinner.”
Spectre leaned down to pick up the discarded laundry basket. “You don’t have to do that, Mother,” he offered, but he could tell that she would not be hearing any of it.
“Go inside and unpack your things. I’ll be back!”
They both sighed in unison as they watched their mother dart off down the metal walkway and across the bridge. Spectre turned to Edge and they both shrugged, making their way inside the home they hadn’t been in for several years. Lucky for them, nothing had really changed.
Spectre poured himself a cup of water, handing it to Edge and then poured another. “Have you gotten your assignment yet?”
Edge smirked as he pressed the metal cup to his lips. “Of course I have.” He gulped down half the water and set it down on the metal counter. “I’m stoked as fuck that I’m going to be piloting the ship you’re the Operator of.”
“That’s it?” Spectre lofted a brow at his younger brother. “Nothing else?”
“I mean, not really.” Edge shrugged. “I don’t know much about the others. I’m just glad I’m with you.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. He should have known that his brother would still continue to be simple-minded, even after all of these years. It didn’t come to him as a surprise; not really. In a way, it was almost relieving to know that his brother remained wholly the same - even after the intensity of the Training Programs.
“Did you get a chance to look at the ship?”
Edge whistled, sailing his hand out across his body in a dramatic flourish. “Bro, let me tell you…” He leaned sideways, bumping his shoulder against Spectre’s. “Just thinking about flying that ship is giving me a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe!”
He rolled his eyes, lightly elbowing his younger brother’s side. “Seriously? Come on.”
“I’m dead-ass serious, Bro. Like, holy shit, the Amaterasu is one sexy fuckin’ vessel.” Spectre watched a gleam sparkle in his younger brother’s eyes as he spoke. “She’s the newest hovercraft in the fleet and that baby was made for speed and destruction. I bet she could make it to The Fields and back before a Sentinel could even detect what actually happened.”
Spectre quipped a brow. “New stealth tech?”
He watched his brother nod emphatically. “Oh yeah, and then some.” He clapped his hands together. “I can’t wait to test that beauty out.”
Pulling out his computer, he looked over the ship’s diagnostics. There was some serious hardware put into the hovercraft. If the deployment of the Amaterasu was successful, the engineering crew would work on replicating the ship’s schematics for future hovercrafts. As exciting as that prospect was, Spectre couldn’t help but frown a little.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the Amaterasu was a guinea pig ship. This would be the first time the crew would work together as a collective. Some were still fairly young, their minds “freed” but needing more time to mature. There was also the chance that they would all clash when it came to their personalities and work flow.
He barely got the sigh out of him before Edge wrapped an arm around his shoulder to pull him in close. “Hey, c’mon, Spectre! This is what we went through all that training for, right?” Edge winked at him. “Everything’ll be fine. Every single member of the crew is the best of the best of the best, right?”
Spectre nodded. “Yeah…”
“So there’s nothing to worry about. We’re going to be the talk of the entire fleet. Everyone in Zion is going to know our ship.” Edge laughed, causing Spectre to grin; his enthusiasm was infectious. “We’ll do great things, Bro. I know we will.”
Spectre ruffled his little brother’s hair. It brought him an overwhelming amount of relief to know that his younger brother had, in fact, barely changed at all. In a time where their future was bleak and uncertain, pure optimism was necessary. Hope was needed.
And he would do whatever he needed to do in order to ensure that that hope never died.
Fragmentation 5.0 - KNJ
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,269
AN: Now we get Namjoon’s perspective. YAY. Also in the Real World in Zion. Again, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Keep reading
Fragmentation 0.7 - KSJ
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,096
AN: On to Seokjin’s origin story of how he left The Matrix. I actually took inspiration from the animated short, Beyond, from The Animatrix. I always found it super fascinating that certain parts of The Matrix, much like a computer, experiences “glitches” from time to time. Especially in the earlier incarnations of it. All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Seokjin tossed the apple in his hand lazily, lagging behind his friends as they chattered on about some “cool thing” they found. He didn’t understand why they were so adamant in dragging him out there, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Martin called and told him he didn’t need to come in for his shift today if he was fine with trading with him for that Sunday. As a teenage senior, he didn’t have much to really worry about as far as money. His parents were loaded. The only reason he had a job in the first place was his father wanted to teach him the “fundamental building blocks of living in society” and how to acclimate to said societal norms.
The truth? Seokjin was lazy at times and didn’t much care for responsibility on that level. With a successful chain of restaurants, stocks and bonds piling up in the bank, Seokjin didn’t have a care in the world. He could flit around and do as he pleased. The caveat? He had to maintain his grade point average and have a part-time job. If he couldn’t balance both his schoolwork and his actual job, then he didn’t deserve to inherit everything his father managed to build in his lifetime.
Easy money. Too easy. One day off on a said day when he didn’t feel like working, replacing said workday with a Sunday? The choice was obvious.
“Yo, Jin,” called Abbey, causing his mind to focus back on the current conversation he hadn’t been listening to in the first place, “it’s this way.”
He watched as Abbey, James and Elena motioned for him to follow through a narrow alleyway. The sun was bright and he couldn’t help but wonder why they were even doing this in the middle of the day. When it came to those three, they were always trying to get into some kind of mischief. Seokjin didn’t really think too much of it. Even if he got in trouble, he knew his mother would find a way to get him out of it.
What slivers of light existed quickly vanished within the dark shadows of the alley. They couldn’t enter in pairs - all trailing behind the other like little worker ants. Seokjin crunched into his apple, the sound bouncing off the walls of the small enclosure. They continued to chatter amongst each other, but Seokjin followed behind silently. He hadn’t been asked anything worth responding to and nothing of interest forced him to comment on it.
They were used to his lackluster attitude though.
As they breached the other side of the alley, he squinted from the sudden flood of light nearly blinding him. Abbey’s high-pitched giggle caught his interest. He shielded his face with his forearm, catching the image of James and Elena jumping into the air just in time. He didn’t quite understand what was so amusing…
...until he looked up and saw that Abbey was floating in the air.
“Whoa,” Seokjin murmured just as James did a somersault in the air - his motions slowed as if he were suspended in zero gravity, “what the hell?”
Elena laughed, her hair fanning out in the air as she hung upside down. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Seokjin nodded slowly, almost dropping the apple in his hand. “Yeah…”
“C’mon, Jin!” Abbey waved emphatically to him, spinning to the ground like a dancer from a dream. “You try it out!”
His eyes lingered around, spying all the various things in that section of the abandoned playground; a piece of a seemingly abandoned district. Rocks floated around, bouncing up and down in soft motions as if they were situated on an invisible river. Little bugs that attempted to fly off were slowed by whatever encompassed the space they were currently standing in. Seokjin could count the number of wings and how many times they flapped.
“What is this?” he asked, unsure of what this was and why he was even asking in the first place.
“We don’t know,” James answered with a shrug as he perched on the metal jungle gym, “but we figured it might have something to do with why this district got abandoned.”
He picked up one of the floating rocks, studied it, and then tossed it off to the side. The sound of it hitting the pavement caused him to turn and glance over his shoulder. The rock skittered off behind a barrel, hidden in its shadows where he wouldn’t bother looking. Canting his head slightly, he picked up another one of the floating rocks and threw it into the space where it occupied. For half a second, it zipped in at normal speed before slowing to a halt just inches away from James’ face.
“Hey!” he yelled, but Seokjin continued to look at the other rocks scattered along on the ground, “You could have hit me!”
Seokjin scoffed. “I doubt it.”
He tossed the apple into the air, watching it float along in the space - suspended in the air just outside of his reach.
Suddenly, there was a harsh sound resembling a record scratch that caught his attention. When he turned to face it, he saw that an old soda can seemed to be glitching in and out of focus. Seokjin’s eyes narrowed slowly, his feet moving toward it.
“Jin?” Abbey’s voice sounded concerned. “What is it?”
“You guys didn’t hear that?” He turned away from the can to look at his friends. “You guys didn’t hear that?”
All three of them shook their heads simultaneously. Had he been the only one to see it? To hear it?
But that’s crazy, he thought, his eyes moving back to the can, it was so loud and the fracture across the can is so obvious.
Or was it?
“Jin, you’re scaring us, dude,” chimed Elena, but he couldn’t be bothered with that. Not if they couldn’t see it.
But why could he see?
Like a bolt of lightning, the wails of sirens pierced through their tranquil setting. Flashes of red and blue illuminated their world. Seokjin looked around, his eyes widening as he quickly turned on his heels and scrambled a few steps back. His gaze shifted to the sky and he balked, seeing that it was suddenly dusk. When had it gotten that dark? They couldn’t have been there for more than an hour. Maybe less.
“We gotta go!” yelled Abbey, grabbing onto Seokjin’s wrist and pulling him away from the miniature wonderland.
Their sneakers pounded the pavement, kicking up dirt and scattered newspapers around them. James scrambled up a dumpster and grabbed for the handrailing of a fire escape. The girls followed suit and Seokjin knelt down to give Abbey a boost. Just as he was about to reach for her outstretched hand, flashlight beams all shined on him at once. Seokjin did his best to shield his eyes, backing away from where his friends were. Climbing up was too risky. He had to leave them and go off on his own.
“Look, I’ll catch up with you guys later!” he called up to them, pivoting on his heels and tearing off down the alleyway.
As his world got darker, Seokjin thought the alley was getting smaller and smaller. His breath came in quick intervals and he blinked rapidly against the sweat threatening to seep into his eyes. Just as he was about to reach the edge of the alley, an arm suddenly flung itself out of a window and grabbed him by his shoulders. He tried to scream, but all he could taste was leather as a hand covered his mouth - the rest of his body being dragged into the building through the opening.
Fear clutched at his chest, squeezing it slowly. Darkness flooded his vision, rendering him unable to see as the rushed sound of footsteps thundered passed. When the noise faded away, Seokjin’s heart finally began to ease up. The owner of the hand and arm that dragged him into the building finally stood up, giving him room to finally breathe comfortably.
“That was close,” said the person, her voice distinctly feminine.
Seokjin took a moment to get a good look at her, her dirty blonde hair framing her face while the rest of it was pulled back through the hole in the back of her ball cap. A cheeky grin etched her features. Her shorts were provocatively short, muscled legs covered in thigh high stockings that disappeared into a pair of combat boots. Her upper body showed off her toned midriff, the rest covered in a denim jacket and black tank top. She didn’t look much older than him, from what he could tell.
He frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
“Does it matter?” She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t know anyway, would you?”
Well, she certainly wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make it any less irritating. It was clear that she knew something that he didn’t and considering the situation he just barely escaped from (barring her help), that was something that didn’t sit well with him. Not by a long shot.
“Why’d you help me?”
If he didn’t know better, he swore he saw her grin get just a little bit bigger.
“You saw it, didn’t you?”
A cold sweat prickled along the back of his neck. Instead of answering, he chose to swallow the lump in his throat. Apparently, that was all the response she needed. Chuckling more to herself than to the information he’d unintentionally given away, she shook her head slightly.
“Well, it’s a good thing I swung by when I did.”
Seokjin’s frown deepened, if possible, and he took a step toward her. “Just what in the hell is going on?”
She unfolded her arms, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She fished around in both until one came out. She held her fist out to him, urging him to come forward. When he did, she lofted a brow, waiting for him to do something else. Not sure what she was wanting, Seokjin held out his palm.
Opening her fist, she dropped a small, silver case into his hand. Curious, he popped open the box and inside were two pills. One blue, the other red. Was she trying to drug him?
Just as he opened his mouth to question her, he saw the girl holding a cell phone up to her ear.
“Stand by for pickup.”
Seokjin had about as much as he could stand. “Hey! What’s the big idea? You tryna kidnap me or some shit?”
The girl frowned, craning her neck slowly to glare at him. “You’re the idiot that doesn’t even realize he’s already trapped.”
He blinked, not sure why hearing that struck a nerve. What did that even mean?
“If you want to know the answer behind that little gravity show you and your friends were messin’ with, take the red pill. You wanna forget about it and go back to your normal boring life, then take the blue pill. Choice is yours, Buttercup.”
Seokjin’s eyes lingered back to the pills. He couldn’t forget what he’d experienced. His friends thought it was just some weird phenomenon and, honestly, if he hadn’t seen the can glitch out, he might have chalked it up to that as well. But too many things didn’t add up. How had the police shown up so quickly and when had time shifted that fast in a space where it only felt like he’d been there for no more than an hour?
Grasping the red pill between his thumb and forefinger, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. The girl’s grin returned and he watched her hang up the phone and slip it back into her pocket. In the dark and dusty building they were in, the walls inked over in black as flickers of green numbers seemed to explode along the walls. Seokjin’s ears started ringing to the point where they hurt and he clutched at them with both hands, dropping the case and the remaining blue pill. He felt a hand on his shoulder as it squeezed it gently.
“You gotta breathe,” she said, her voice a distant whisper against the roaring sound of his blood rushing through his ears, “just take a deep breath. It’ll be over quick.”
And as he took a breath, everything blurred over in a haze of green, black and gray. Until there was nothing left. It was quiet; peaceful. But somehow he knew that this was only the beginning.
“Welcome to the Real World.”
Fragmentation 0.7 - KSJ
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,096
AN: On to Seokjin’s origin story of how he left The Matrix. I actually took inspiration from the animated short, Beyond, from The Animatrix. I always found it super fascinating that certain parts of The Matrix, much like a computer, experiences “glitches” from time to time. Especially in the earlier incarnations of it. All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Keep reading
Fragmentation 0.8
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,138
AN: Like all of my works, there will be OCs working opposite of the boys. In this story, we have three. The first in the Fragmentation series is Mackenzie. Like Yoongi and Hoseok, she is self-substantiated. How she does will be revealed! On to Crow’s origin story for Defragmentation! All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
“Goddammit Mackenzie! I thought I told you to be home by eleven!”
A pair of green eyes glared up at the rotund looking man. His reddish complexion was barely seen from the scraggly beard covering the majority of his face. Sweat soaked through the dingy wife beater he wore, half stuffed into a pair of faded cargo pants. There were a pair of dog tags hanging from his neck - something that always piqued the green-eyed owner’s interest, but never enough to ask about them.
Mackenzie doubted he served anyone but himself, let alone the country.
Instead of answering him, she folded her arms across her chest. Normally this was the time when she escaped into her room, but he was blocking the way. He was always getting in her way.
It was his fault. Life used to be normal. This was as far from normal as a person could get. He was as far from being a real father as a person could get.
“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?”
She rolled her eyes, doing her best to ignore the stink of alcohol on his breath. Mackenzie didn’t understand why he persisted on being like this. It was the same shit on a different day. Part of her wished that he would walk outside and get hit by a bus. But she knew that that was a miracle she would never be granted.
“Answer me!”
“What do you expect when I’m closing?” Mackenzie asked, her tone flat and devoid of all emotion.
Her father’s eyes narrowed at her. She didn’t even flinch. “What did you just say to me?”
“I didn’t stutter,” came her clipped response as she let her arms fall to her side, “now move. I still have homework to do.”
Before she could take a single step, her father was advancing on her. Mackenzie mentally braced herself for what was coming. Her body was used to it, but it was always that dark corner in the back of her mind that suffered the most from all of this. So long as that part was shielded, she could handle everything else that usually followed.
The pain that exploded from the side of her head paled in comparison to the pain of her hip crashing to the floor. Her arms immediately shot up to cover the top of her head as her body curled into a ball. The flurry of kicks that collided into her caused her nerves to scream out in agony. But Mack refused to scream, instead choosing to bite the inside of her mouth. The taste of blood flooded across her tongue and she heard her teeth clacking together when the heel of her father’s boot hit the top of her head.
After what felt like hours, but were actually minutes, her father abandoned her there on the floor. Every square inch of Mack’s body throbbed from the pain. There would be bruises tomorrow. Thankfully he’d missed her face so she could still go to work and school without receiving too many curious gazes. It was none of their goddamn business anyway.
Mack waited until she heard the front door slam before picking herself up off the floor. She roughly rubbed the back of her wrist across the corner of her mouth, eyeing the blood smear and rolling her eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if the old man would notice if she spit on the floor just to spite him. Would he even care?
Grunting, she made her way into her bedroom, locking the door after shutting it behind her. Her father would most likely be out getting drunk for the rest of the night. It meant she had the whole house to herself until he came stumbling back in at four in the morning. Mack just hoped that she’d be able to get all of her school assignments finished and have enough time to surf the internet. Something told her that she was getting closer to finding what she was looking for.
Or, rather, who she was looking for.
Speeding through her homework, Mack pulled up several browser windows once she was securely connected to the internet. Her eyes darted across the screen, her fingers flying over the keys - pausing only long enough to use her mouse to click on a few links that spiraled her into another location. Mack reached out to everyone that might have a lead and she got just a little bit closer than she did the day before.
After another hour, she was starting to get frustrated. Everything was forcing her into a dead end. Just when she thought she had a lead, it only caused her to go on a wild goose chase on the wide web. Mack roughly scratched at her head, attempting to tamp down on her slowly mounting anger.
“Dammit!” She slammed her fists on her desk, rattling everything on it. “Why can’t anyone just give me a straight fucking answer?!”
Burying her face in her hands, Mack did her best to suppress a sob that she didn’t even realize was building up in the back of her throat. She was tired, in pain, and a little hungry. But most of all, she was starting to lose hope. And that was starting to hurt her more than she would care to admit aloud.
“Fuck it,” she muttered, standing up from her chair, “I’ll pick this up in the morning.”
Just as Mack turned away from her desk, the ping from her instant messenger sounded from the laptop. Pausing, she craned her neck to look at the screen. The username consisted of a series of random numbers. But what made her heart nearly drop to her stomach was what the person said.
You’ll never find Michael because you don’t know The Truth.
Mack ran back to her desk, her fingers gliding over the keyboard. She could barely hear herself typing from how loudly her heart was beating inside of her eardrums. It was the first time someone responded to her inquiries with something credible. It was the first time she could actually believe what she was seeing.
Because it was the first time someone actually mentioned her brother by name.
Who are you? How do you know that name?
The cursor on her screen blinked steadily. Mack wasn’t sure how much more she could take because she was almost positive that this was the clue she’d been searching for after all this time. It was a solid lead just because someone was able to give her a name. If they knew her brother’s name, that meant that they also had a good idea of where he was. She couldn’t afford to let this person slip from her grasp.
Who I am doesn’t matter.
How I know doesn’t matter.
What matters is...
What are you willing to do to know The Truth?
She stared at the computer dumbfounded. Was this another trick? Was this person just jerking her chain, trying to lead her into a false sense of security before sucker punching her in the face like everyone else? It would be the most logical explanation. It was the only thing that actually made sense.
Mack didn’t know why, but she felt like that wasn’t the case. Not with this person. Were they trying to lead her onto the right path after having been on the wrong one for so long?
Narrowing her eyes, she began typing again.
Anything.
The air was cold and frigid. Mack rubbed her hands together, her breath coming out in small white clouds. She peered through the metal fence as people continued to file through the city. She was isolated from the rest, sitting on a park bench and waiting. She looked at her watch, making a mental note of the time. She had five minutes left to wait.
Five minutes until she would know whether this was real or a hoax.
The sound of gravel crunching underfoot quickly brought her out of her thoughts. Mack stood up immediately, facing the direction of the noise. All she could see were the trees cloaked in shadows cast from the street lights. She couldn’t see anyone, but the crunching noise wouldn’t stop. There was a large lump forming in Mack’s throat and she couldn’t help wondering if she’d fallen into a trap.
Seconds after thinking that, a young woman dressed in gray and black appeared. She wore a long black coat with a hood just barely covering her head of thick curls. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The rest of her outfit was some sort of gray jumpsuit that almost seemed to shimmer when it hit the light just right. The legs of the suit were stuffed into a pair of shin high combat boots - the heels continuously crunching into the gravel; releasing an eerie sound.
Mack puffed out another breath of cloudy air just as the woman stopped three feet from her.
“Y-You’re early,” she managed to stammer out.
The other woman smirked, her auburn curls accentuating her mocha skin even in shadow. “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. You’re late, Mack.” She reached up with a gloved hand to remove the sunglasses from her face, revealing a set of dark hazel eyes. “Or should I say, Crow?”
Mack took a step back, her lips parting slightly as the woman referred to her as both her name and her alias. Her heart hammered against her ribs, causing her lungs to tighten up inside. What in the world was happening? Just how much did this woman know?
Not wanting to look like some punk, she shook her head and straightened her stance. “You have information I want and yet I don’t know anything about you.”
The woman continued to smile. “I already told you that who I am doesn’t matter. It never will matter.” She shrugged. “Not until you know The Truth.”
“What the hell is this truth you keep talking about?” Mack could feel her anger starting to grow. “What does it even mean?”
She watched the other woman reaching into her pocket to pull out a cell phone. She punched a few numbers and then pressed it up to her ear. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a whole lot of time for me to explain. You’re going to have to see it for yourself.”
Mack bit her lower lip, her eyes narrowing as she watched the woman reaching into her other pocket with her free hand. Half a second later, her heart froze as the woman trained the business end of a semi-automatic pistol at her.
“Whoa,” Mack said, raising her hands up slowly, “what in the fuck are you doing, lady?”
“You have a choice to make, Crow, and you don’t have a whole lot of time to make it, so I’ll be quick.”
Panic began to settle around Mack’s chest. “What do you mean I don’t have a lot of time?!”
“Agents are coming. They’re coming for you because you’re sloppy and desperate, which, sadly, is making me sloppy and desperate.”
When the hammer clicked back on the gun, tears sprung up in Mack’s eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Shut-up,” snapped the woman, the smile now completely gone from her face, “I already told you we don’t have a lot of time. You have two choices. You let the Agents take you or I force you out of the bubble you’ve unknowingly been put in. I’m giving you five seconds starting now. Five.”
She took another step back, but the woman advanced on her. Mack didn’t know what any of it meant. What did she mean by “agents” and why did it seem like this woman was trying to help her, despite the situation looking crazy to everyone else?
“Four.”
Her heart shook in her chest, causing her to reach up and clutch at the front of her jacket. Mack didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to die without knowing the answers.
“Three.”
She still didn’t know where her brother was. She still didn’t know what The Truth was and what it had to do with her brother.
“Two.”
She wanted to live!
Mack ran up to the woman, wrestling the gun from her grasp. The woman took a step back, but the smile returned to her face. Mack pressed the barrel of the gun up to her temple as tears streamed down her cheeks. Multiple footsteps seemed to thunder through the gravel, but Mack could only see the single snowflake that began to fall from the night sky. The world disappeared into lines of green numbers before returning to normal.
She smiled.
“One.”
After the gunshot ripped through the night, Mack’s world darkened immediately. But she...she felt free, somehow.
“Welcome to the Real World.”
Fragmentation 0.8
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 2,138
AN: Like all of my works, there will be OCs working opposite of the boys. In this story, we have three. The first in the Fragmentation series is Mackenzie. Like Yoongi and Hoseok, she is self-substantiated. How she does will be revealed! On to Crow’s origin story for Defragmentation! All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Keep reading
Fragmentation 1.0
Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?
Rating: NC-17 // NSFW
Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama
Pairing: N/A
Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence
Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]
Word Count: 3,435
AN: Like all of my works, there will be OCs working opposite of the boys. In this story, we have three. Next in the Fragmentation series is Elain. She is slated to be The One in the series. This is her tale on how she was found by one of the crew members of The Amaterasu. On to Hitomi’s origin story for Defragmentation! All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!
Tag List: @aroseforyoongi, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @shrimpmsg
© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.
Elain proceeded to clean up a few of the glasses that were left over in the sink. She saw Sam wiping the back of his hands on his apron before he reached over to grab another dish towel. Elain smiled, held her hand out to stop him and the grin only got bigger as she saw the inquisitive look on his face. He was, to say the least, slightly confused. Closing time always was the slowest and most boring part of a bartender's job description.
"Don't you need me to help you out?"
The woman smiled softly, tossing some of her dark blonde curls out of her face as she leaned forward to finish pulling out a few more wet glasses from out the sink to dry them. "I've got this. You just go on back to the house. You've been here since noon."
Sam was about to protest. He hated seeing Elain doing all the hard work and she knew that. At least he had a place to go home to in the evenings. With company, a warm meal, and a reasonable house of interesting people. But Elain...she only had that apartment with that crazy little border collie of hers. She claimed that she was fine and that the random visits to Sam’s home with his boisterous housemates made up for that, but in all honesty, Sam just thought she needed someone else in her life. A person who could relate to her pain and give her a shoulder to lean on...just as she could give her shoulder to them.
Shrugging out of his apron, he folded it up neatly and placed it in one of the bottom cabinets. "Alright. Well, if you need me to come back, just call me."
Elain nodded, shooing the man out the backdoor so she could close up. After she dried up the remaining glasses, she pulled her own apron off. Looking up at the VIP box office where her managers worked, Elain sighed. Word on the grapevine was that her bosses were affiliated with the mob. Though she couldn't say just how high up the food chain these two men were, she could almost guarantee that they were of high rank and standing within the mafia.
Which, in turn, made them her enemies.
But she couldn't bring herself to be angry with them. After all, from what she could tell, they were involved because they had no other choice. As if it were a sort of livelihood for them. Kyle was an honest, diligent worker. The first to come in to work and the last to leave. Marcus came in and out every once in a while, but for the most part, a good hefty portion of the management job fell onto the younger brother’s shoulders. And, like tonight, only Kyle was working his crazy hours inside that office of his.
Pulling out two glasses, Elain poured a shot and a half's worth of bourbon in each one - adding two ice cubes to lightly dilute the liquid. If she knew anything, Kyle would definitely need an after work drink to relax and calm his nerves. She popped her neck some, massaging the shoulders here and there, before making her way out from behind the counter and sidling into the nearest stool. She picked up the cool glass and touched it to her lips, allowing the liquid to slowly slide down her throat. It was a welcome burn. After tracing her fingertips along the edge of the glass, she started lightly humming a song to herself as her hair, once again, fell into her piercing gray-blue eyes.
Dad...
Elain enjoyed the taste of the liquor sliding down her throat. As she heard the door to the office upstairs closing with a light click, she paused just as the glass was leaving her lips and she looked up with her dark slate eyes to see Kyle locking up the office. Smiling, she set the glass down on the coaster in front of her, looking back at the glass and fingering the edges once more with the tips of her digits. Mentally she smiled bigger than what her outer appearance allowed her to.
After all, she wasn't one for giving away her inner most thoughts. Her specialty was people watching, after all.
The way Kyle shrugged his shoulders as he was locking up gave an air of resistance. Like he was shrinking back from some unknown force around him. It permeated a reclusive air that Elain just wasn't sure she was equal to. Her dog was company enough for her and she definitely didn't shrink back from Janice. The poor border collie would have been so offended. But it indicated just how tight of a hold Kyle had on himself - keeping others at arm's distances, if not further.
He descended the stairwell.
As he reached the bottom, there was a slight hesitation in his steps. She could hear it - feel it - the breath between them so tense it could have been sliced with a knife or cut with fabric shears. Though the pause was but a half a second, Elain could sense the doubt. Would he approach? Should he approach? These were all things that Kyle was probably thinking. Beyond the occasional greeting, the two of them never really conversed all that much. He'd hired her because he was the manager - her boss - and she'd met the credentials needed to do the job. That was all that really mattered, right? Credentials?
He slid into the bar stool next to her and she turned her head on cue, flashing him a smile that was both soft and welcome as he picked up the glass of bourbon. "Thanks."
His hum of approval was a welcoming sound and Elain felt her teeth show. Well, she certainly knew that she was the barkeep for a reason. When he turned to smile at her, Elain couldn't help but wonder if the smile was genuine or if it was a well-rehearsed gesture that Kyle practiced for a while.
"Shouldn't you be home by now? It's not good to work so much," he teased, causing her to quip a brow as she lifted her glass to her lips.
"Nah," she said, shaking her head and closing her eyes as she waved one hand gently to the side before taking a whiff of the bourbon with satisfaction. "There's this sayin' back where I grew up. In a club, it's always the guy servin' the drinks and the guy cuttin' the checks that are the first to come in to work and the last to leave." Elain turned to look at him, eyes half-lidded in their sultry fashion as her smile broadened before winking cutely at him. "Guess that means us, hm?"
Kyle’s smile went from polite to almost devious. “I suppose it does.”
Laughing lightly, she ran a hand through her thick raven locks while turning to look at him, her bangles jangling like little bells by her ear as she moved to rest her elbow on the counter top. "So tell me, Boss Man. Why's it feel like you're locked away up there in your office like some mad scientist instead of coming down here and chatting with me during a break?" She gently clinked her glass against his as he held it up halfway from his face. "For a minute there, I thought it was because you didn't like me."
Her smile widened and she laughed lightly once more, tossing some of her raven hair from her shoulders as her other hand rested on her bare torso. This outfit was indeed quite strange, but she didn't mind. Elain knew it suited the work atmosphere and it was necessary for her to "blend in" because the customer should always be the focus of her attention.
Boss or not, she was currently her customer.
"I would love to come down for a drink every now and then, but I don’t really take breaks with as much work as I do. What's the saying? 'There's no rest for the wicked'? Or, in my case, no rest for the 'Boss Man' as you put it." Kyle gave a little chuckle of his own before it died off to a simple, amused smirk on his lips.
“Not much of a crowd person.” Elain said it like it was a statement versus a question. She waited for him to confirm or deny it, but when he said nothing, she simply shrugged one shoulder and set her glass down on the coaster in front of her. “I can understand that.”
He quirked a brow at her. “You do?”
She nodded, her brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, sure, we work in the bar and club business, but we keep ourselves isolated from it all.” She pointed toward his private office. “You have your office and I have my bar,” she continued, smoothing her hand over the counter, “there’s always a line that we divide between us and the rest of the world.”
In a way, it was almost like they were born isolated from what they knew to be the world around them. It felt natural, yet it felt wrong all in the same instance. Elain could never fully gauge why she felt that way, but only that she did.
Kyle looked at her for a long time; longer than what she was used to or even comfortable with. There were a variety of reasons why people stared at her and it was usually because of her appearance. She was a light-skinned, Creole woman with dark blonde curls and piercing grayish-blue eyes. People often thought she wore contacts, but it was just her genetics.
Half English, half Haitian.
He sighed, his eyes shifting to look back at his glass. “And some of us are higher on the food chain than everyone else.”
Elain blinked, confused by his words. “What do you mean, Kyle?”
Suddenly, the door to the club opened. Elain stood up on reflex, her eyes scanning the doorway. A young man of Asian descent with black and orange hair entered. He had a pair of sunglasses on, which was strange for that time of night. He wore a white leather jacket with a black rocker t-shirt underneath stuffed into his black denim jeans with the knees torn open.
“Um, excuse me,” Elain called out to him.
The heels of the man’s combat boots clicked against the tile floor as he scanned the club, his head stopping as he faced in their direction.
She frowned. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night.”
“It’s you.” His voice was soft but full of authority. It caused her brows to furrow in confusion as she heard Kyle shifting from his chair next to her. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”
“What are you talking about?”
It was all she could manage to get out before the man was reaching behind him. Within seconds, he was pulling out a gun, the barrel trained at her boss. Elain gasped sharply, her hands shooting up in a show of surrender.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” she demanded.
The man said nothing. Instead, he squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot - the bullet zipping out to plunge itself into Kyle’s forehead. A spray of blood splattered across Elain’s arm as she let out an ear splitting shriek - her eyes growing wide while her boss’s body hit the ground with a hard thud. Tears filled her eyes as she fell to her knees, her hands shakily reaching out to touch him. The sound of rushed footsteps seemed to vibrate inside of her ears, muffling all the noise around her.
As she stared at Kyle’s body, she watched it jerk slightly, as though he were being electrocuted, and then fizzled into a different form. The man lying beside her was no longer the kind and quiet Kyle, but a man whom she didn’t recognize - his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses and a security earpiece in his ear. Even his suit, casual and comfortable, was replaced with a stuffy one that someone from a high profile security detail would wear.
“W-What’s going on?” Elain barely managed to croak out.
Just then, she felt her arm being grabbed roughly and she craned her neck to see that it was the man who’d killed her boss. Or, at least, the man she’d thought was her boss. She tried to pull herself free, but he only tightened his hold on her.
“Let me go!”
“We don’t have time for this,” he snapped, all but yanking her up to her feet, “we need to leave this place. Now.”
The doors to the club suddenly burst open, a torrent of gunshots and bullets spraying in varying directions. Elain screamed, covering her ears as the stranger immediately slammed his chest into her back. They crashed to the floor and a sharp pain hit her elbows as they collided with the ground. The bar counter served as a momentary shield, the sound of glass breaking as powerful as the smell of alcohol as they leaked from their containers. There was a distinct sound of something being shifted and Elain felt her arm being gripped once more. When she looked back, she saw the stranger pulling out a zippo lighter from his pocket.
Before she could ask him what he was about to do, he shifted his gaze to meet hers. His sunglasses came off during their fall. There was a sharp intake of breath from Elain as she looked into his eyes.
They were the same slate blue as her own.
The man threw the lighter over the counter and Elain could smell the alcohol catching fire. Taking a moment to utilize the confusion, he grabbed for her arm and hauled her up onto her feet. There wasn’t even enough time for him to yell at her to run. She just let her legs instinctively take control. Gunshots rang out through the club as they both bee-lined for the rear entrance to the club.
Sweat ran down Elain’s spine as her feet ate up the ground, the stranger hot on her heels. Sliding on the wet concrete, her shoulder slammed into the brick wall of the alley. Grunting, she tried to urge her legs to keep going but the adrenaline was starting to drain out from her. As if he’d sensed it, the man grabbed her hand and all but dragged her behind him.
They reached the end of the alley, his arm shooting out to stop her from stepping out onto the side street. Elain’s heart drummed heavily against her chest, the beating reaching her ears and muffling all other sounds from her senses. There was a point where she thought the world was blurring in and out of focus around her, but she couldn’t be sure. Were those men still chasing them? Was she actually standing there and not running anymore?
The sound of tires screeching to a halt was the last thing Elain heard before everything motion blurred around her - fading into darkness.
“Somebody better start talking,” Elain snarled, her back pressed to the wall of what looked like an abandoned building, “I want answers!”
Another Asian man, different from the one who’d snatched her from the club, stood in an opposite corner of the room. He cradled what looked like a sniper rifle in his hands, the barrel of the gun resting along his left shoulder and across his body. He scoffed, a derisive smirk spreading over his lips.
“She’s feisty,” he said, craning his neck to look at the man who brought her there, “I like her already.”
“Keep it in your pants, Ares,” snapped a woman with blonde hair stuffed into a ball cap, “business first. You can get laid later.”
The man, Ares, snorted before leveling his gaze back to Elain. She frowned at him, his arrogant smirk refusing to fall. For good measure, she threw the bird at him. Instead of responding in offense, Ares laughed and shook his head. It caused Elain to blink and further pressed herself along the wall.
Unable to shake the trepidation from her body, she clutched and wrung her hands together. The person who brought her to that unknown place approached her. When he was less than three feet away from her, Elain shifted again even though she knew she had nowhere to go.
“You can relax. You’re safe and among friends.” He tried to sound reassuring and she had to admit that his soft voice was, in a sense, calming.
“Speak for yourself.” The woman cut her green eyes to Elain. “We’re not even sure she’s going to relent.”
“She will, Crow.” Ares’s smirk widened. “She’s too curious not to.”
“Quiet. Both of you.” The man never took his eyes off of her, forcing Elain to focus on only him for the moment. “They call me Cobra. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
Elain’s lips parted, her eyes widening in shock. “Y-You’re--?”
“The one who successfully hacked the government’s Central Intelligence systems? You would be right.” Cobra smiled, the gentleness meeting his eyes. “I had some help, of course, but it was mostly my work.”
“Don’t let Frost or Miles hear you. They’ll never let you hear the end of it.” The woman, Crow, called out to them but Cobra didn’t acknowledge her physically. He kept his eyes locked on Elain.
Those names were like little firecrackers going off in the back of her brain. She’d heard of them while she was tooling around on the net. But it was the question that always lingered in her mind. The question that she longed to obtain the answers.
“What is The Matrix?”
Elain couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving her lips even if she’d wanted to. How could he have known that was the question she was wanting to know the answer to? He smiled, canting his head slightly as he looked at her.
“I know that look. It’s the same look I had on my face once.”
He reached out to grab one of her hands and she didn’t try to resist. Turning her hand over, he placed something inside her palm. When she looked back at her hand, there were two gelatin capsules in her hand. One red, the other blue. Her brows furrowed and she looked back to Cobra, his face calm and reassuring.
“Hitomi,” he said, causing tears to form in her eyes, “you have a choice to make right now. Even though I already know what choice you’re going to make, I still want to give you the option to bail out.” He pointed to her hand. “The red pill will lead you down the path that will answer all of your questions. But it will also give birth to more questions, some of which you may never find the answers for. The blue pill will make you forget everything prior to the moment I walked into your life. You won’t even have the questions inside of you anymore.”
Crow approached Cobra, handing him a glass of water. He held it out to Elain, to which she absentmindedly took it.
He knew so much and she seemed to know so little. Would she really be okay never knowing the truth? Would she be okay returning to a life of blissful ignorance?
Elain dropped the blue pill onto the ground, tossing the red pill into her mouth and draining the glass of water. Within seconds, both Crow and Ares were moving around her. They were pushing her onto a nearby couch and panic snaked up her throat as she was forced to lay down. Pressing a variety of sticky pads to her skin and temples, she noticed the monitoring devices and felt her panic growing. Cobra pressed his palm along her forehead, feeling his cool palm easing the inflamed feeling flushing out across her skin.
For a moment, she forgot about her fears and all the movement going on around her. The onset of hysteria was briefly beaten back by Cobra’s almost serene expression. Her eyelids grew a little heavy as he stroked his thumb along the space between her eyebrows.
“I’ll see you soon, Hitomi…”
Hitomi nodded, her eyes lifting to stare mindlessly at the ceiling. She took a deep breath, blinked twice, and watched the world dissolve into darkness - the space replaced with lines of green code. She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
And then it all went dark again.
“Welcome to the Real World.”
💜💜💜
The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder | MYG
Fearful, they buried them, stomped them into the dirt. Underneath their boot, scared men were unaware the seeds of hope had planted by their own volition. From the dirt and grime, grew flowers, blooms so tall, eclipsing their hatred. You were strong and unwilling to be cut down any more.
Dystopian Fantasy AU. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi x reader
Warning: 18+ adult themes, dystopian futuristic society (IS IT THO?), graphic violence against women, animal cruelty, attempted SA, mention of suicide, police brutality, angst, sex so soft and sweet and full of consent
Word Count: 9.1k
---
“It’s her,” they said. Whispers in the crowd, repeating the phrase to one another, like a wave of hope rippling over their bodies, energizing their fight.
It was true. She was there, and the crowd could feel her power, her anger, forged from pain. Because it was their anger too. It was familiar, it was a friend reaching over their shoulder and telling them, ‘It will be okay. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight alone. You won’t lose this time, because you have me now.’
The rumors spread far, even the law-forcers knew of her. They knew of her as a myth, a story the people would tell to ease the pain of their subjugation. An empty promise shouted at the law-forcers, that one day they’ll be sorry, that one day victory won’t be theirs to take. She was the woman with the black cat on her shoulder. One look into those feline eyes and judgment is swift.
Some believed the cat is a creature from the underworld. The beast heard the people’s cries and clawed its way up into this world, collecting souls of abusers and assaulters, dragging them back down to its dark home. Some people believe the cat is part of her, she wields and controls the beast like a limb, that she isn’t human, but an angel, the savior of the people.
But she is neither and the cat is neither. She is like them. Born without wealth, without love, abandoned and alone, she grew up too quickly. A sad story told a million different ways by a million different girls. She lived her life as they all did, she worked and worked and worked and worked, and lived. She didn’t want anything more but to live...
You didn’t want anything more but to live, and perhaps it was by some divine intervention, you don’t know, that you crossed paths with a lonely black cat, so small and broken, so desperate to survive like you. You freed him and in ways you could not imagine, he freed you.
---
From the crowd of bodies, the woman with the black cat on her shoulder stepped to the front. Her clothes were black, pants torn and patched, sewn back stronger. A tight shirt so they made no mistake, it was a woman under that mask. Black cloth covering her face and hair, the amount of her hair hidden under her hood. But they could still see her eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner and hatred. And on her shoulder, a large black cat, long wild hair to match its wild eyes.
The law-forcers stood in a line, guns and shields ready. The angry crowd had nothing but hope now.
The law-forcers didn’t really believe it was her, looking down at her still. Any woman could find a black cat and pretend. They saw her as a martyr, a faker, their trigger fingers itching to make an example of her.
The cat hissed, mouth stretched wide open and long fangs displayed. The hiss was loud and piercing and the law-forcers flinched, embarrassingly reacting. The crowd jeered and laughed and the law-forcers pointed their guns at the black cat, growing in anger for being made fools.
You whisper to your companion to wait. Let them attack first. Show the world the true aggressor before them.
You waited because you knew the beast on your shoulder was a magical being. And the thing about living magic in a world filled with human creation, is that magic and technology reacted like oil and water, coexisting but unable to intermix, and magic was by far the stronger force.
Red lasers land on you and your companion, but you stubbornly stand tall and the crowd mirrors your actions. The cat growls low and menacing and hisses again. It only took one scared threatened man, one trigger happy finger, and then it was all over...for them.
-
A gun shot rang out, and smoke appears where the black cat on the woman’s shoulder stood, weaving and twisting in the air like black rivers, dispersing and covering the empty zone between the crowd and the law-forcers. Bullets entered the smoke and the magical force created a barrier, stopping them in midair. That is when they all knew, they knew she was not just a myth.
As quickly as the magic appeared, electricity disappeared. The energy sent a shockwave across devices. Cameras and lights, the law-forcers military grade machinery, and all that expensive technology the law-forcers depended on broke and malfunctioned. Precious moments without their weapons that give a perfect window of attack.
The crowd stands transfixed and the woman screams, loud and deep within her gut…
A roar.
The black cat appears and reappears, so quickly it’s impossible to follow the cat’s path. Fangs piercing through skin and muscle of the men paid to silence the people’s cries, now crying for help, crying in pain as sharp claws rip through kevlar and tear the flesh from their bones. She runs towards them without fear. That's what the crowd sees, they don't witness her fear of losing what she loves most that carries her feet forward. And then the crowd begins to run forward too, headed straight towards men with bullets ready to fire.
It’s chaos.
---
“Dinner’s ready.”
His voice was soft and calming but you startle awake. You don’t mean to, you’re just always on alert and so anxious these days.
His hand moves from your back to your shoulder, fingers pushing into your tight muscles. His way of telling you to relax. You place your hand over his, pulling him into bed. You’re so tired, he must be too. You wish he wouldn’t worry over you, you could have heated some left overs up instead.
The news plays loud on your home's display screen, events of afternoon recorded right before the blackout replay from many different angles. You listen to the cheers of your arrival, inwardly groaning.
Tonight it’s going to get worse, you’ve bruised the egos of the elite, and men like that always lash out in anger, unable to take a loss so great.
“We should go out tonight, just in case,” you sigh. Your companion doesn’t speak, he’s tired. He fought so hard. And he might have to do it again. But this is the life you both chose. Somehow, it has become this, nights upon nights of this. You wonder, if others had this kind of power, would they be able to sleep at night knowing they could have done something more, or would they be like you?
It wasn’t always like this. Before you were a fighter of the system, you were a victim of the system.
Like the night your companion, Yoongi, showed you what he truly was.
---
“Sweet kitty.” He purrs loudly while he eats, broken purrs between grumbles as he devours his dinner. The sight makes you laugh as he eats the meat leftover from your lunch. He waits for you, always in the same spot. The black cat you saved has taken to following you from work to your home at night. Every night you try to coax him into your house, but he never does decide to join you. He’s a cat of the streets.
You click your tongue softly as his fluffy tail wraps around your calf. Using two fingers, you run them along the cat’s back as he eats. “I have to get going, kitty, sorry for making you wait,” you muse, scratching behind the cat’s ears as he finishes. It’s later than you usually leave. Hours at the warehouse seemed to stretch longer and longer these days.
You move quickly and quietly, kept your purse tight to your side. You walked behind restaurants, away from drunken men and street girls that took over busy streets at night. Walking these dark alleys alone was daunting, but better than dealing with confrontation and a quicker route. And you had kitty. The animal gracefully walks next to you, happily bouncing along with his tail held upright. You somehow felt safer walking with the tiny street cat.
Age thirteen was the first time you encountered the wandering eyes of strangers, walking the district’s marketplace with your friends from the learning center. Three teenage girls enduring the catcalls of grown men, following you for blocks. You knew the feeling of someone watching you all too well, it was the same feeling you felt tonight.
You stop and bend down, petting kitty, cooing at how cute he looks when he stretches his neck towards you and in the corner of your eye, you noticed them, two men in the shadows following close behind you. There is no safety at night for a woman in this world. You learned that not this night, but you felt the fear of your reality in waves, stronger than any night before.
Standing up again, you ignored them and kept your pace. You were too scared to run. Running escalated things. You learned not to do such things. Once you ran they would chase, they could catch you, they would hurt you. And you knew you couldn’t fight two and win, you weren’t confident in one. You fiddle with your e-bracelet. You could signal an emergency, but the law-forcers took hours to come to this part of town, even as attacks continue to escalate, you knew they wouldn’t save you.
Kitty meows next to you. He meows, he meows, did kitty notice them too? “I know,” you whisper.
You think if you keep this pace, you can make it past the corner, and run then, hide yourself in the crowd. But like you, it was not the first time for these men either. Experienced predators, they noticed your hunched shoulders, the concentrated steps slowly escalating. They attacked.
Dirty hands grab at your body, your hair, yanking you backwards into pavement. It was too quick, too forceful.
You fought, you fought hard, with everything you had. You kicked and you screamed, and when fingers covered your screams you cried, when stronger arms and legs kicked back and shoved you back down, you pulled your limbs tightly together, protecting what they wanted from you.
You tasted your own blood, felt the sting of cuts and bruises on your body just formed and yet you still fought, unwilling to let them have any of you.
Acting on instinct to protect yourself until your legs were ripped open and your arms were held down and you retreated into your mind, thinking of what you could have done to stop this outcome, was there anything, one small difference, that could have changed everything? You were asking yourself these questions when the heaviness lessened, and your voice was no longer the only screams in the night.
You lifted your head at a terrifying sight. Limbs reacting quickly to move away from the bloodshed. You reminded yourself to breathe.
Breathe out. You looked down at the scene, the two assaulters were dead, their bodies covered in scratches.
Breathe in. And another man, black hair wild and covering his eyes. Hands red, covered in blood that wasn’t his.
Breathe out. He walks closer to you, bends down, covers your bruised cheek with his bloody hand. Street lights flicker and static electricity stings you at his touch, but you don’t flinch away, feeling a familiarity that didn’t frighten you.
Breathe in. Somehow you knew the most improbable situation was what this was, you knew what he was.
Breathe out. “Kitty?”
Even with all your breathing, you still passed out at the revelation.
---
You sit straight up, yelping, breathing eratic.
‘What's this?’ You stare at napkins and plastic bags, the trash falling away from your body. You're outside on your porch. Your purse had been underneath your head.
“Ow.” Your ribs hurt, your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your temples hurt. You run your tongue over your dry lips, over a cut and wince. Your bracelet beeps. You’re late for work.
You didn’t have time to think about last night until lunch time. Unable to make food, you stood in line to pay for lunch. Waiting for your turn in line, you listened to today’s gossip. The women of the warehouse discussed in hushed voices last night's murder. “An animal attack, they think.” “What kind of animal could do such a thing?” “Not too far from here at all, two men.” “Men?!” “From the Financial District at that.” “No CCTV either. It made the trending headlines this time.” “Maybe now they’ll do something about the attacks.” “Y/n, what happened to your face?”
“Went drinking last night, went home with the wrong one.” you mutter, running your fingers over the cut on your eyebrow.
The women look over at you with sympathetic eyes, “Please, y/n, my nephew is a good one, I wish you would give him a chance,” your coworker says, a lovely old woman who treats you like a daughter.
“You didn't met him in VR first?! They have apps now to vet men like that,” another says in an accusing tone, “I would never.”
“Men can still pay to scrub that info from the V life,” the older woman says, rolling her eyes.
You wrap your leftovers in a napkin, pocketing the food. “I don’t have time to take care of a man, sorry Auntie!” Hugging her goodbye, you try not to wince when your ribs touch.
You head back to work, lost in your thoughts, piecing together what your mind allowed you to remember from trauma of last night.
After work you wait at your usual spot, clicking your tongue, but the black cat doesn’t come.
So you wait stubbornly, until it becomes even later than the night before. You check behind trash cans and old boxes, huffing. You were so certain you saw him in the morning, scampering away from you as you woke. Where is he now? You're certain you remembered the events of last night correctly, you're sure of it...aren't you?
Your usual route has been taped off, now a crime scene, so you’re forced to walk through the crowds, weaving through drunken bodies.
Drunken men won’t leave you alone, especially one, even when you tell him off, even when you push him away, he jeers and makes fun of your bruises.
“Looks like someone already taught you a lesson on manners. Didn’t you learn anything?” he slurs, following after you.
You turn down a deserted alleyway and feel small pads hit your shoulder, the warmth of a large cat pressing down onto your back, fur ticking your cheek. You reach up to steady the cat's body, pulling him into a protective embrace close to your chest. The black cat purrs as you stand stunned, looking down at the black cat. “When did you get so big?”
The man takes a swaying step forward and the cat hisses and swats a large paw in his direction, making the man flinch back, chuckling in his drunkenness.
“Leave me alone.”
He’s too drunk, eyes glazed over, unwilling to stop now that it’s started. He lunges forward and the cat jumps out of your hands, claws aimed at the drunken man’s face. He screams as you attack as well, pushing him away as hard as you can, anger overtaking you. You don’t feel remorse as he hits the ground with a thud, blood pooling around his head, just stunned that it actually worked.
The crowd hears the commotion, men begin to head towards your location. Your heartrate spikes, preparing yourself to run, but instead someone pulls you into a hug, concealing you in the shadows, lifting you into his arms easily instead.
You’re both gone before anyone can reach you, left only to look at the drunken man, now dead.
A piercing scream echoes, but you’re already so far away. He holds you in his arms, moving across roofs with agility like you’ve never seen before. You kept your head buried in his shoulder until he landed in front of your doorstep. Placing you down, your legs buckle once they touch the ground, unable to stop yourself from falling into his arms.
You apologize, searching for your keys as he holds you upright. When you finally unlock your door he turns to leave. Just like that. No!
You find his hand, “Please don’t go, please.”
Smoke appears like a gust of wind, black and thick, and the hand you held evaporated in your palm as you coughed. When the smoke clears, a small figure stood, a cat with wild hair, his back towards you. The black cat looked over its shoulder, green eyes piercing yours.
You held in your gasp, and bent down, bruised knees hitting hard ground.
Reaching a shaky arm towards the cat, he stills. You hold your breath petting soft fur, hands delicately lifting his body into your arms. You couldn’t help the tears escaping, the wetness falling onto his soft hairs.
“I’ll stay out here then.” You whisper into fur, body shaking.
A meow erupts from the cat in protest.
For the second time you fell asleep on your front porch, for the second night you watched a man die and felt no remorse.
---
The next day at work the second murder was all your coworkers could talk about. Trending reports of another slashed bloody, a dead man found blocks away from your own warehouse. The news had trended statewide too, the headline was too juicy, too scandalous; a tourist visiting the labor district, brutally murdered on the night strip, presumably by a prostitute, a dirty woman! He was a father, a leader in the community, a good man!
Fuck him. You kept your head down and worked and didn’t entertain their gossiping. You were on edge all day until you stepped out of work and a familiar feline stared up at you, tail swishing back and forth.
You bent down and wrapped your arms underneath his fluffy belly, pulling him close to you, head nuzzling his furry body. He wiggled in your embrace but did not try to leave, paws instead reaching for your shirt and eventually jumping onto your shoulder.
That’s how your walks went from then on. You talked to him like always, but now with the understanding that he really knew the words you spoke. He never changed back into the man who helped you, and he always jumped off your shoulder before you could walk inside.
“Please come in, please.” you always said.
But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. ‘Stubborn kitty,’ you thought, and your heart hurt.
-
One night, instead of going home after work, you went dancing.
“Meow.”
“Is it just me, or is that stray following us?”
“Just you,” you joke, giving your date a small unconvincing smile.
You finally agreed to go out on a date with your coworker’s nephew, Hoseok. “Maybe it’s hungry.” He wonders, laying his arm over your shoulder, confused by its strange behavior.
You looked down at the black cat, walking back and forth gracefully, and looking very much annoyed. “Maybe.”
“My house or yours?” He asks, voice gruff, eyes downcast. Even the good ones still act all the same.
You smile. “Yours.”
A loud deep meow erupts from the black cat.
-
The next time you left the warehouse, there was no black cat. He’s mad at you. Did you deserve it? He doesn’t expect you to feed him every single night, does he? If he just accepted your offer to stay inside your home, he wouldn’t have to worry about such things, you thought, offended and weary to walk home alone, cautiously making your way down the usual path.
You heard soft footsteps behind you. ‘Not again,’ you thought. Fearing the worst you spun around, coming face to face with your ‘black cat.’ You met deep brown eyes with flecks of green that almost seemed to glow when he stepped cautiously out of the shadows.
He crossed his arms over his chest and walked towards and then past you, looking over his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face. You took the hint and stepped in line. “Um, are you hungry?”
He didn’t speak.
You dug into your purse. You held out the leftovers wrapped in foil to him. He took it and ate as he walked, big urgent bites that made you frown, noticing his hunger.
You pass a man walking in the opposite direction and your companion presses his shoulder to yours. The gesture warms your heart. Usually, when a man passed by you, you were met with questions or a comment about your body. This time nothing. The stranger keeping his head down, walking away without a word, and you almost wanted to scoff at how invisible you became now that you were in the company of a man, annoyed that’s what it took for strangers to leave you alone.
You stopped once you saw your home in the distance. He looked at you in question, turning to you for the first time. “Thank you…for walking me home tonight. And all those nights. Thank you, kitty.”
You hugged him, his body stiffened against yours and you didn’t let go until he relaxed, arms slowly reaching around you too.
“Yoongi, my name is Yoongi.” His voice was gruff and raspy like he hasn’t used it in awhile. It was the first time, in a long time he felt he had a reason to speak.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered. And then you let him go, smiling, turning back to your home.
---
The thing about injustice, is that those who wield it, do not have to live with the pain they cause. But for those who are hit, every day the pain builds upon itself, robbing energy and time to tend to wounds caused by injustice, leaving scars that make it impossible to forget.
You’ve felt it growing inside you, the anger. The past continued to assault you, making you feel disgusted. You tried to ignore it, but the memories were scars inside you that keep opening, making you angrier, repulsed.
And worse, attacks in the district grew exponentially, outcries from the people were met with platitudes by officials.
And worst of all, the latest trending case involved an elite from the e-tech district. It took four women, the last one reported to have died from the trauma. Of course he faced no punishment. He was a powerful man from the e-tech district, and they were powerless labor women. Injustice upon injustice. The wounds kept on opening, your trauma you kept on remembering, again and again in the faces of these women, anger simmering and growing.
So when you walked your usual path with Yoongi high on your shoulder and heard a concealed whimper in the shadows, you didn’t just mind your own business, like you would have done out of fear no less than a year ago, you were too angry to be afraid.
“Get off of her!”
You hit his back, you hit his head, you hit any part of him you can reach. “Go! Run! Hurry!” you tell the woman, who chokes on her cries and looks at you with tearful scared eyes, nodding.
He is startled, but he is stronger, pushing you away, slapping you across the face. “Crazy bitch! You want to die, yeah?”
He hits you again and you don’t care. You kick him and hit him, knuckles hurting the most with how hard you swing.
He is surprised, but he is stronger, and it only take one solid hit to make you double over, wind knocked out of you and curling into yourself.
Legs trap your body to the ground and you feel disgusted all over again, gritting your teeth, angry tears escaping, your nails dig into his face, drawing blood that surprises you both.
He’s angry, and he’s stronger, fingers wrapping around your neck, a murderous look in his eyes that you match. You belt weakened hits down across his forearm. Part of you, furious, makes a promise that if you survive this, you’ll find a way to kill him and every man who hurts another woman with your bare hands. But another part of you, the part of you that’s tired, that expects this pain to never end, would rather just die.
A single clawed digit runs across the man’s neck, ending the fight and silencing your thoughts. Yoongi pulls the man off with you ease, throwing his dying body to the ground.
Yoongi crouches down, looking over your battered body. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”
“We have to leave.”
“No, leave me alone!”
“Get up,” he says, insistent.
“NO!” Your breath out rapidly, unable to calm your nerves or your anger.
So Yoongi waits, sitting down next to you. “Then I’ll stay here with you.”
Finally, you calm down, tension growing as minutes tick by. “Let’s go,” you swallow, pulling off your blood soaked work shirt, revealing a black tank top underneath, standing up to leave.
“This is not the way home.”
“I know.”
Black smoke zips around you, Yoongi appearing in front of you annoyed. “Where are you going?”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, you were going to find another drunk man, you were going to see if he deserved to die too. “Why did you save me?!”
He looks at you, “Because I wanted to.” His answer short, hiding his real answer.
“Why?!”
“When you found me, why did you save me?” He asks, temper rising.
You stumble over your words. “Because it was the right thing to do, how couldn’t I?”
You think back to the day you found Yoongi, thin as a rail, patches of fur missing, tape wrapped tightly around his body, barely clinging to life, you thought he was surely going to die.
It was too cruel, what happened to him, you hadn’t expected him to live through the night, but you wanted him to know kindness too, to know there were good people out there too who wouldn’t hurt him. You nursed him all night and all morning, for days, until he found the strength to walk again, and then one night when you came home from work he was gone, the following night began your walks.
“That’s why. Because it’s right,” he replies.
You swallow down angry tears. “This is not going to stop, it’s not going to stop unless someone stop it.”
---
Spring came and it became unbearably hot in your small home. You left the windows open at night to let the heat out. On your day off, you took to spring cleaning. As you cleaned you looked to the side and saw familiar black fur, Yoongi was outside your window. You put out a bowl of water on the window sill, adding an ice cube which he gratefully licked, slurping the water cutely. He looked bigger. Hair longer, he did not look like the straggly stray you first encountered. He kind of looked intimidating, you mused.
You lean your head against your window frame, running your hand through his thick fur. “You can come inside anytime you want,” you let him know, smiling.
With the spring heat, you traded pants for shorts, thinner fabric, your hair up and off your shoulders. Now that nights were no longer cold, that meant even more people outside. More attacks too, some trending cases coming in from the upper districts.
Once the brutality reached the elite, rallies begin to form, marches through the Neostate's capital. You watched on your home display, conflicted in emotions. It looked nice, but did it change anything? Maybe in those districts, but definitely not here.
It didn’t matter to you, because you promised yourself that night, you would die before you let another man take advantage of you.
So when a man put his arm over yours, pulled you out of the dance hall, and he thought of all the way he was going to have you that night, you thought of all the ways you were going to kill him.
Alone with him, you spoke low and direct, only once telling him to let you go before he regrets it. He laughs in your face, leans into you, whisky smell coming out of his slimy lips as he attacks the corner of your mouth.
Ever since that night you let your nails grow. It made it a bit more difficult to complete your duties at the warehouse, but the trade off was worth it, watching men crumple to the floor, screaming in pain when you ripped gashes across their face. Oh, it was worth so it.
“You crazy fucking whore!” The man screeches expletive after expletive, anger growing. You don’t care.
Before you can attack again, before he can attack you, Yoongi attacks.
From behind you, moving quicker than either of you, Yoongi transforms in a man. He lands a series of punches, large hand definitively gripping his face, slamming his skull hard into the unforgiving pavement.
He looks back at you and you look at him and you don’t need to speak to one another before both running down the alley away from the dead drunk who could have saved his life if he hadn’t tried to impose himself on you.
You walk next to one another in silence. And then you decide to turn back into the crowd. Yoongi holds you back, asking, “What are you doing?”
“I’m thirsty. It’s hot. I want a popsicle.”
He stops you again. “Cmon on, I’ll buy you one too. A milk one.”
You sit on your porch, smiling at Yoongi who holds two popsicles, once in each hand, licking the frozen milk.
“You’re trending on the local page. Well I guess we’re both trending.”
Yoongi nods, focused on licking.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Yoongi nods.
“Why won’t you come stay inside?”
“My kind are territorial. If I choose a home, it’s um, important to choose the right one.”
You pout, “I know my house isn't big or fancy, but it’s sturdy. It’s not that bad.”
“That’s not what I meant! I just... I had a home once. I thought I would always be welcome. I...” He can’t finish, voice shaking.
You exhale, understanding. “I grew up in foster homes. Some were okay, but it never felt like a family. Some were...horrible...” You wince at memories. “Anyways, what’s the saying, ‘Home is where the heart is’?” You nudge his shoulder. “This feels like home right here. Here with you.” you smile. “Yoongi? Are you…purring?” You look over at him with wide eyes, hearing the familiar vibrations come from deep within his chest.
“No!” He looks away.
---
Neostate's capital never seemed to care about the attacks on women, but the attacks on men? More law-forcers tasked to your district. On every corner. Men protecting men. More arrests of street girls. A curfew for women (unless a man was with you). You could almost feel the fear and tension within the night crowds now.
The people didn’t like the constant watchful eye. Rallys were every day now. Violence was met with more violence. The women who were caught in the crosshairs weren’t taken to Neostate run prisons, no, they were taken immediately to special e-commerce owned prisons, forced to work in the gencrop fields with migrants and farmbots, forced to work with cancer causing chemicals that unions outlawed amongst its citizen workers.
And by some accounts, women were given a second, more heinous, option. Better than slowly dying from cancer causing chemicals, they could use their prison time to serve as live incubators, as human birth was always the more desired option to incubator births. That was Neostate’s answer to the violence, a more sinister, pathological brutality.
Where was the justice for the battered women? Where was the justice?
That kind of injustice, that kind of shared pain, it didn’t lessen or become better over time. It stayed, stretched and thinned, like a blanket, almost comforting at times, suffocating most of all. The hypocrisy was sparking an age old fire amongst the people who had let it simmer for too long. And now, that cloth caught fire, and there was no stopping it.
More rallies and more marches, in every district a curfew now.
The fire was flaming.
And inside danced one flame known as her. Rumors of a powerful woman, with a pet, no a beast, no a cat! People have seen her at night, seen her cat move, jumping over buildings. She walks the streets at night to deal out justice the law-forcers won’t, women she has saved talk of her all the time; the woman with the black cat on her shoulder.
-
One night, the men who deserved punishment, to your surprise, were in uniform.
You stood stunned, unable to process. “L-Let her go...”
“Grab her.”
Of course, unfortunately for him, Yoongi would never allow him to touch you. Larger than you have ever seen him, appearance more like a panther than a black cat, Yoongi attacked the law-forcer with ease.
This was before you learned Yoongi’s abilities were unmatched by bullets. You jumped in the firing path of the law-forcers. Your vision blurred from the blood loss and the immense black smoke that suddenly appeared. It was everywhere, and Yoongi was unstoppable.
Everything was destroyed. The destruction didn’t look human, didn’t even look monstrous, it looked like a killer force of nature.
You only heard rumors of it like everyone else, the unexplained phenomena that took the lives of two heroes, because you fell unconscious before you could witness Yoongi's true power.
You woke up in your bed, bandaged, Yoongi and an unfamiliar man at your bedside.
Your throat itches, dry from days of sleep. Your muscles stiff, tight bandages around your stomach.
“Hello,” the stranger besides Yoongi speaks calmly. “I’m Namjoon, a friend of Yoongi’s. You’re okay now, we were able to stop the bleeding, no major organs or arteries were hit, you’re lucky.”
Lucky, he says. You groan. “You’re doctor?”
“Not quite,” he laughs uneasily. “A veterinarian.” He smiles sheepishly.
You fell asleep after the small exchange, and woke up with a small black cat purring across your chest, feet and tail tucked in, head resting under your chin.
You find enough energy to pet him softly. “Don’t leave, please,” you croaked out, half asleep. “You’re my home.”
Yoongi never left.
---
These days, when you walked with Yoongi, he walked in human form beside you. Yoongi stayed more and more in human form. Stray cats were being round up and euthanized. Animal hospital records were being sequestered and families who owned black cats were being investigated by the State. All over a rumor. Well, the rumors of the woman with the black cat on her shoulder had become more than just gossip between warehouse workers. Whispers of you were heard in every home, in neighboring disticts, in Neostate's capital! You and Yoongi have become a symbol of strength, of hope, a battle cry, a reason to keep fighting.
-
“What should we get? Hweh?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, shaking his head no.
“Hmm,” you browse through the food screen at the grocery kiosk, “Well I can’t afford steak,” you pout.
“What do you want?” he asks
“Noodles!” Yoongi visibly grimaces at the thought, making you laugh.
“How about we settle for chicken?” You smile. Yoongi smiles wide. You somehow always ended up buying the chicken.
“Y/n? Hey! How have you been?”
“Hobi, hey!” You turn around to see Hoseok’s cheerful face smiling down at you. “I’m great, all things considered.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. You know, I pick up my Aunt and some of the other girls from the warehouse after their shift ends. Has she told you? I can take you home too. It’s not safe to walk alone at night.”
“It’s never been safe,” you sigh. You knew, most women now walked in pairs or with a trusted male escort. “I’m fine,” you reassure Hoseok, “Yoongi walks with me.” you look over to your companion, smiling. If Hoseok only knew how many walks it has been now.
“Oh, nice to meet you! Are you…together?”
“He’s my fr-” You feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, intertwining his fingers as he stares down a confused Hoseok. “-iend.” You look down in surprise at his hand tightly holding onto yours.
“A-Ah, okay.” Hoseok looks away flustered by the way your companion stares daggers into him.
The screen beeps and the kiosk's door opens, your food bagged and ready to be picked up. “We g-gotta go.” You turn, pulling Yoongi along.
You walk home and Yoongi never lets go of your hand.
You don’t question him, afraid he might take it the wrong way, instead enjoying the moment, because as affectionate as Yoongi was in cat form, he never touched you unless absolutely necessary in human form.
Yoongi, however, silently stews over the brief encounter, feeling more and more threatened by the man who took you on a date so long ago. Once you enter your home you finally ask him, “Are y-you okay?”
“Yes.” He says, still holding your hand. Lips pressed into a tight line, full of jealous and quiet rage.
You raise your eyebrow, “Are you sure?”
“You see me as a friend?” he snaps.
“You, um, don’t see me as a friend?” you ask confused.
“I see you as more.” He says it softly, eyes staring you down. He looked angry but he looked sincere, confusing you.
“What do you– What do you mean, Yoongi?” You heartbeat escalates in anticipation.
He didn’t have a proper word for it, the closest human word didn’t sound right at all. He saw you as more, yes, he felt a connection so deep to you, words couldn’t describe it.
He lifts your intertwined hands over his heart, struggling to say what he felt. “You’re– with me– You’re home.”
He raises your hand to his mouth, pressing the skin to his lips softly, before licking.
You smile, giggling at his cute affection before moving closer to him, burying your head into his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat.
“You’re…more than a friend.” You whisper. You look up at him, catching his eyes, irises such a deep brown shade with tiny flecks of green, his eyes so mesmerizing. “I love you.”
The words were barely spoken. He bends his head down, forehead meeting yours, long messy hair still as soft as a cat’s, ticking your skin. He's closer than he’s ever been to you. You took the chance to move one last inch, closing the distance, pressing your lips against his.
His soft lips brush against yours, making you feel so good you have to force yourself to pull away from him. “Was that okay?”
He answers you by kissing you again, this time with intention, his lips moving against yours, soft and hard and soft and hard and so so warm.
Your heart overflows, it makes you feel dizzy, a happiness you weren’t used to, only touching the surface of the love you felt for him but never diving in, and now it felt so strong and all consuming it left you breathless.
You hug him close again, anchoring yourself to him. “Did I do it wrong?” he hesitates.
“No, everything is right, everything.”
---
You answered Hoseok's chat right away.
“How did this happen?!” You move beside Hoseok, staring at the hospital bed where his Aunt lies, bandaged and connected to tubing.
“She got caught up in the rally. The law-forcers thought she was a protestor. What shit, they hit her thirteen times! She was still in her warehouse uniform!” You put your hand over her bruised knuckles. Hoseok’s shoulders rack with sobs, Mrs. Jung was Hoseok’s Aunt, but she raised him like her own. “The march was so large I couldn't get my car through the crowd, I couldn't get to her!” He cries, feeling guilty and distraught. You turn to Yoongi, exchanging silent words.
You never attended the marches, deciding to pick your battles. But this time, you decided you enemy was not only a misogynistic bottom feeder from the labor district, not just a sadistic elite taking advantage of his status to hurt women, or a sexist law-forcer abusing his power, your enemy had become bigger, a system working against women like you at every turn. You were going to defend yourself and the women you loved, and even the women you didn’t, you decided.
And that is why you and Yoongi revealed yourself to the world. You had enough. The people had enough. And this time, because of you, the people had won. It showed the world, power is not just given to men.
---
“The Women’s Protection Act,” your coworker scoffs, moving the hospital food around her plate, “Sounds like Enslavement.” She frowns. “My husband is dead, how am I supposed to get to work if I can’t even leave my own house by myself?”
“I could take you.” Hoseok says.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s a nice thought, but doesn’t fix the problem.”
“It won’t pass, right?” Yoongi asks.
“They’re scared of us, it will pass,” you say solemnly.
“Then we fight.” Yoongi says. You all turn to stare at him. “Err right?”
“Fighting here does nothing, the elite districts have to join in, for real.”
“Those girls never worked a day in their life,” she groans, “you think they will dirty their hands for us?”
“If they had someone to rally them, I bet they would… The woman with the cat on her shoulder.” Hoseok says wistfully. “They would follow her, look what happened.” You catch Yoongi’s eyes and quickly look away.
“Yeah, can you believe it? Those fuckers’ weapons all jammed. Can you imagine that cat of hers in the e-tech district?” Hoseok’s Aunt cackles, “Oooh, the entire place would combust!”
You swallow hard while Hoseok joins in on the laughter. “Ahh that would be great. But the capital has technology that hasn’t even reached us yet, I don’t think she could even survive a fight like that.”
“We should still try.” Yoongi murmurs.
“Yeah? Got a way to chat her? I’d love to meet her,” Hoseok laughs.
Yoongi leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, huffing.
You ignored Yoongi’s questions all night, until finally you snap.
“What if you die?!”
Yoongi looks at you stunned, chuckling. “You’re not worried about yourself?”
You scoff. “I should have died a long time ago.”
“Me too, but a woman saved my life when she didn’t have to, gave me…a home.”
“W-We could expand our watch over to the agriculture district instead. That’s something we can fight and win. Maybe we should just focus on that?” Yoongi stays quiet. “Why help the Elites when half of them agree with the act?!” You ask angrily.
“If you want to stay…I’ll stay with you.”
Every part of your being is screaming at you not to back down now. “I don’t want to lose you.” Yoongi kisses your forehead, hugging you close.
To the capital.
You didn’t want to disappear and worry Hoseok and his Aunt, so you went to the antique store and bought paper, wrote a note using real ink for the first time in your life. You gave it Hoseok after leaving the hospital for the last time. Now three people knew your secret. Well, three people and a cat.
“Packed?” He asks.
You nod, on the verge of tears. You hated this place, why did it hurt so much to leave it?
Yoongi sensed your sadness, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly,” you sniffle.
“You’re not, it’s okay to feel sad.”
You finally broke down in Yoongi’s arms. You were terrified and you were sad. You felt like you were being pulled away at sea, the currents of the revolution were too strong for you to swim through, you weren’t strong enough for this. You had no real power, it was all Yoongi, you were a fraud, and you were going to drown and take Yoongi down with you.
A soft purr pulled you away from your thoughts, Yoongi trying to console you the only way he knew how. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, damn if it didn’t work. He’s too cute, too loyal, too perfect for someone like you. You didn’t deserve him, but you were too in love to let him go now.
You lay against him, sharing your bed one last time. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my fight.”
“I might not understand everything, but I know what you’re fighting for is what I want to fight for too.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. No matter where we go, my home is you.”
He kissed you softly, wanting to make the moment last. Soft kisses became stronger, deeper. Hands wrapped loosely around your waist and became tangled in your hair, cupping your cheek, firm, pulling you into him.
You moved on instinct, nestling your body close to his, pressing tight to his strong frame. Your heart began to beat so quickly it matched his own, your breath escalating against his lips. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to be closer, always closer. You wanted all of Yoongi.
“Is this okay?” you ask between heated kisses, Yoongi nods quickly, groaning, head falling forward into the bend of your shoulder as your fingers wrap around his shaft, feeling him harden as you pump. His tongue runs along your shoulder, softly scratching your skin, making you shudder and moan.
His mouth envelops your own, this time with more urgency, tongue licking over your lips until you part them for him. He takes his time tasting and licking into your mouth, holding you tightly as you work to pleasure him.
“I want you, y/n.” Yoongi grunts, moving his body over yours, watching you intently, memorizing your heated expressions to memory. “Please?” he asks, licking his lips.
“Yes,” you nod, widening your legs for him. His fingers pull at your panties, growing a claw just to tear the fabric away. You pull your nightshirt quickly over your head before he can tear it off too.
He stills and admires your body before lips kiss the newly exposed skin as he presses his body down onto yours, slowly connecting himself to you, inside and out. You gasp, stretched by his length, try to steady harsh breathing. Having sex with Yoongi was nothing like you ever felt before, it was so gentle even when he rutted hard into you. It wasn’t just sex, it was making love. The pleasure, the love, it was overwhelming, his fingers exploring your body, pulling at your curves, pinching the most sensitive parts of you.
So much love, so much pleasure, your walls began tightening around his length until he couldn’t hold back any longer, mouth finding the sensitive part of your neck and biting down, releasing inside you. He relaxed into you, licking the mark, softly apologizing. It didn’t even hurt, you reassured him, the pain eclipsed by the pleasure and happiness you felt. It felt so good and right.
He kissed along your neck, down your shoulder, across your chest, moving lower and lower, determined to give you just as much pleasure as you gave him. Rough tongue licking across your sensitive skin until he fell in between your legs, admiring your beauty. You shiver as his fingers run along your sex, push the liquid overflowing out of you back inside, his come, possessively wanting to mark you still. He keeps his fingers deep inside you as he licks your core, tongue pressing over your nub sending shockwave of ecstasy through you, building the pleasure inside you once more until you reach euphoria’s edge again, this time toppling over. He moans into your core satisfied, your walls clenching around Yoongi’s fingers.
“Come here,” you finally rasp out, as Yoongi is all too happy to continue to lick you clean.
Hugging him close, tangling your limbs together, you fall asleep one last time in the largest district in the Neostate, the labor district.
---
“How the heck are we supposed to get a pass to visit the e-tech district?” you realize, asking Yoongi when you both step out of your home at sunrise.
He smirks.
-
“Hey Joon.”
“Ahh look at you! You look great.”
“Yeah...Well, Yoongi is not happy.” You frown.
“It will wash off, they do this to all the pets in the higher districts.” Yoongi growled and panted in his cage, his fur a bright shade of purple.
“Let’s go, ‘wife.’” Joon held out his elbow to you.
Loud hisses emit from the cage. You laugh awkwardly, wearing clothes that cost more than your entire wardrobe.
“So your family is from the financial district, eh?” You ask trying to break the tense silence. Joon, Yoongi, and you took a bus to the distribution district, and then once you arrived you transferred into a private driverless car sent by his family.
Namjoon smiles, “Yeah, want to know why I stayed down there, I assume?”
“The thought crossed my mind, yes.”
“Love is funny that way,” he sighs. “They really try to box us into different sectors, make it so hard for each of us to find happiness somewhere else, but when you find the one, nothing else matters.”
You clutch the altered ID card of Namjoon’s late wife.
“You stayed, even after, when you could have gone back...”
“I never had a reason to until now.” He taps on the cage, “Plus, I had a very stubborn patient who wouldn’t leave either,” he raises his voice, teasing Yoongi.
You make it to the financial district in Namjoon’s smart car. You walk with Namjoon to your hotel with Yoongi in tow and you've never seen so many...things. Useless things. What is that thing? Pouring out water you can't even drink. Where does the water go? Why are they wasting so much water?! Water is a scarce commodity, it doesn’t make any sense!
‘Neostate’s Safe Sector continues to riot as our Capital’s Citizen’s Defense Force begins deployment to our nation’s largest sector.’
“Did they just call our district…the Safe Sector.” You blink. “Namjoon places a finger over his mouth, signaling your silence.
He turns the hotel’s display screen’s volume up louder, closing the blinds. He clicks the release on your e-bracelet, placing both his and yours in his suitcase. “Surveillance here is much worse,” he whispers.
You mouth the words ‘safe sector,’ aghast.
Namjoon laughs quietly. “I mean, I don’t think they meant safe as in safety, but I see what you mean,” he whispers.
“Can I let him out now?”
Namjoon nods and Yoongi stretches his tiny cat body outside his cage, bounding towards the hotel room’s bathroom.
“Wait!” Namjoon whispers urgently, running after him. “Don’t transfo-”
“THE FU-” Namjoon covers Yoongi’s mouth. Finishing the proclamation, “ONLY ONE SINK?!”
“Huh?!” you rush towards the bathroom but it promptly shuts in your face.
“What’s wrong? I want to see!”
You hear snickering on the other end of the bathroom door and the soft whipping of a towel smacking marble, Yoongi taking out his anger on the poor bathroom’s sink. You can only imagine what he looks like now, you sigh, vowing to make Namjoon tell you in detail what happened.
-
“Do you know what a blueberry is?”
“No.” you say excitedly, you wait to hear Namjoon’s explanation.
In your lap, Yoongi bristles, purple tail puffing out in all directions.
-
“Even with your e-braclet completely offline, I’m still worried. An alert might still send off if they notice someone from the labor district in the capital. I sent it back to Hoseok, Yoongi said that it was okay.” Namjoon whispers.
You nod, a little disappointed your v-life was now truly non-existent. ‘Yoongi is home,’ you repeated in your mind, petting a purring Yoongi. “I got you a new one,” he hands you the shiny new tech. “It’s rudimentary, uses old satellite tech instead of the web. I programed my number and a few trusted others from other sectors. Now, remember your lines for the border-forcers?”
“Yeah, I’m visiting for the day to buy a dress because my husband is being honored with an award.” You say, gripping the leash connected to Yoongi as if your life depended on it, “...with my cat.”
Underneath your expensive clothes you wore all black. You walk in hand with Namjoon, pass a large metal installation sticking out of the sidewalk. It’s marked ‘emergency,’ a button with an icon of a woman engraved in the metal. You wonder what exactly would happen if you pushed it.
How many times has that button been pushed, you wonder, would this district even need a use for such a thing? You took in each passerby. There were so many…men. You’ve only passed by one other female and no children. The men here had manners, which only meant they kept their heated stares upon you for only moments before hurriedly going about their day. But as you pass another installation you think there must be a reason.
“I’m in surgery with a patient, that’s why I can’t come with you. But…” he waits for you to remember your lines.
“There’s a family friend waiting to escort me on the other side,” you repeat the lie.
“Great, you got this! Now, try to keep your chin up, act like you belong.”
Ugh.
---
You look across the city lights, so many buildings, so many people. Everything looked so new and clean and so different. The wind was even different here; crisper, fresher.
Under these circumstances, you could see why it was easier for most of them to ignore the abuse. You had to believe they wanted to stop it too. You had to believe the oppression broadcasted from other districts had echoed loud enough with an uncanny cry, familiar to them too.
Well, for now you’re here with just one other by your side and the hopes of your people on your shoulders.
“What do you think, Yoongi?”
Yoongi turns his head and smiles, stealing a kiss. “I’d say I have seven more lives, at least,” he muses.
“What’s the supposed to mean,” you huff, weary. You hold up the plastic map, it generates the landscape, Yoongi studies nine Xs across the terrain. “You know there are only two women on the council? And one of them is in favor of the act! Well,” you sigh, “I guess a 50/50 vote is the best odds we could hope for.” You think out loud.
Yoongi crouches down, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, settling on his back. “Ready?” he asks.
“No,” you mumble, “What did you mean by seven lives?”
“Just that...my last life, I want to spend just being happy with you.”
You hug him tighter, nodding. Smokes appears around you and wherever you and Yoongi go. The power goes out and the city shuts down. It’s not the women who are afraid, it’s the men.
---
The line “forged from pain,” what I meant was, written from pain. This is pain and anger and sadness of a woman in a society that wages war against women. Sorry, no lightheartedness from me for awhile. If you didn’t like this story or its ending, I’m not sorry. I will finish my WIPs soon, but I’m going to keep writing stories like this for now.
Spring Fling Masterlist