#chapter 006. ( the next world )

[aintashes]

the concept of a hybrid is something daryl did not have ready in his back pocket. it's difficult for him to wrap his mind around— the fact that people can be bitten, and turn, and change into... something like @chaos--mode. but he can't deny what's right in front of his face. he can't pretend he hasn't seen them do things that shouldn't be possible with his own eyes.

i look like a villain. i know that, rien says softly, breaking the silence between them. it's been difficult for daryl to talk with them, as nice as they've been, if only because he doesn't know how to approach this with his people. he's asked questions. loads of them. but even so, he's stuck.

the one thing he does know, however, is that the way that they look is the last thing on daryl's mind. he'd be disappointed in the rest of his family if that were at all important to them. no— even though the way that rien looks is certainly different, it doesn't make them villainous.

‘ it don't matter what you look like. ’ daryl looks at them, making the effort not to let his eyes linger too long on any one of their features for fear of making them uncomfortable. ‘ it matters what you do. ’

[aintashes]

usually when daryl tells people that he'd never left georgia before all of this, he's met with some level of disbelief, even if it's quiet. but it's the truth— he's never even been on vacation before. not even within state lines. his whole family, simply comprised of his brother, father, and half-uncle, all lived in georgia. and anyway, it's not as though they ever had the money or motivation to go anywhere. the mountains had everything they needed right there. where would they go? disney world? he and merle never even got presents from santa.

so when hannah mentions that they had a similar experience in jersey, daryl gives a little nod. the shared understanding is welcome in the moment. ‘ before this, it was jus' me an' my brother. we didn't really do much. well— i didn't do much. my brother sold drugs t'get by. i jus' tagged along 'cause i didn't have nothin' better t'do. nowhere t'go. ’ he shrugs a little. remembering merle stings, but at this point, it's a dull ache. merle never would have made it here. not the way he was. he's a perfect example of the fact that some people can start to do good things, but they never really change. ‘ he didn't make it long. don't think he would'a made it this far, anyway. he was an asshole. ’

They nod, an indication that they're listening. ❛ I ain't neva’ been t’ Georgia before. I heard they got good peaches though. ❜ Maybe that was just a stereotype for the state. They honestly wouldn't know. ❛ I was like that with Jersey, I ain’t had a moment t’ leave the state before all a’ this. All my workin’, livin’ and dyin’ was gonna be in Jersey. I used t’ live with a bunch a’ friends a’ mine before all of this happened, y’know? I neva’ had a reason t’ leave. ❜ There's a shrug from the brunette now.

❛ I guess it's cool that you all came from a similar space though. I don't know how I made it this far down t' begin with, y'know? ❜

[ourseasone]

CHAPTER 006 ✱ I JUST NEED TO CRY

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It had already been an entire week. Just seven days, but it felt like a lifetime since your first visit to the hospital, the day everything changed. One single appointment, and your whole world had turned upside down, unraveling so fast that you barely had time to catch your breath. Since then, the ground beneath you had felt unstable, like one wrong step could send it all crumbling into dust.

And now, here you were again — back in the same place, facing the same cold reality, except this time it was supposed to go deeper.

They were going to talk more about it again. The tumor.

You didn’t go to school that morning. You hadn’t even considered it. What was the point? Instead, you made your way to the hospital early, giving yourself time to sit in the exact same chair as last week, the familiar spot across from Dr. Hwang’s desk. The room hadn’t changed. Neither had the doctor — same pristine white coat, still crisp and neatly ironed, hanging effortlessly over his shoulders like it was part of him. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and something sterile, something that always made your stomach churn.

Dr. Hwang was already seated, eyes flickering between you and the monitor in front of him. He looked composed, professional, but not cold. His fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard as he adjusted the scan, the faint whir of the machine accompanying the silence between you. On the surface, you looked calm too. Perfectly still. Not fidgeting, not crying, not showing any of the chaos swirling inside you.

( It was all an act. You were terrified. )

“If the tumor had been located somewhere else, in a less sensitive area, even if it were larger than what we’re seeing, surgery might have been a viable option.”

As he talked, he rotated the 3D scan image on the screen, slowly zooming in, tracing the dark patches nestled deep within your brain. Six masses. All clustered around the frontal lobe like unwanted guests who had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

“But in your case, Y/N, it’s just too dangerous. The frontal lobe is responsible for vital functions like decision-making, movement, behavior, and even breathing. If we attempted surgery, we’d be risking severe neurological damage. Best-case scenario, you’d lose certain functions. Worst-case… it could stop your breathing altogether. Or leave you in a vegetative state.”

The words landed like bricks.

There was no real dramatic reaction from you, no outburst. Just silence. A silence that filled the room so completely it became suffocating. The low buzz of the computer was suddenly the loudest thing in the world.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the monitor, but you weren’t seeing it anymore. Your thoughts were a blur of noise, tumbling over themselves, trying to find meaning in what you’d just heard. It felt like someone had unplugged you from reality, like your body was still there in the chair, but your mind had drifted somewhere else entirely.

After a long, painful pause, you finally spoke.

“So, what now? What am I supposed to do? I just sit around and wait for it to get worse? Just… die?” Your voice was low, thin, almost breaking. The words didn’t sound angry — just exhausted. Like hope had worn itself out in your chest.

Dr. Hwang hesitated, just for a moment. And that hesitation, brief as it was, cut deeper than anything else he’d said so far.

“No,” he said eventually. “There is treatment. We can begin medication. It won’t remove the tumor, but it can slow its growth. It can help reduce inflammation, manage the symptoms, and also ease the pain. It’s not a cure, but… it can still buy you time.”

Time. That cruel word hung in the air like a cruel joke.

You turned your head slowly, finally meeting the doctor’s eyes for the first time since the appointment started. And for a moment, something broke. A bitter, dry laugh escaped you — not because anything was funny, but because there was nothing else left.

“Time? That’s what I get?” You pause for a moment. You’re out of breath. “Time to do what, exactly? Sit around pretending everything’s fine while I slowly fall apart? Time to keep waking up every day with this weight in my head, pretending I’m not scared out of my mind?”

You shook your head, the laugh already fading.

“Is that really all there is? A little extra time so I can suffer more slowly? So I can get my hopes up, only to watch them fall apart again?”

Your voice wasn’t raised, but it trembled with something more dangerous than anger — despair wrapped in sarcasm, fraying at the edges.

“Y/N, I…” Dr. Hwang exhaled slowly, gently. He didn’t finish the sentence.

And there it was again. That damn look.

The one that made you want to flip the desk or run out of the room or scream until your lungs gave out. That awful, unbearable mixture of compassion and pity — softened eyes, furrowed brows, the kind of expression you give a wounded animal you don’t know how to save. You turned your gaze away, staring blankly at the glowing screen in front of you. Anything to avoid it.

God, you hated that look.

You hated what it did to you. The way it loosened the tight threads holding you together. The way it made your throat close up and your vision blur. There were tears building, and you could feel them, hot and insistent, pressing just behind your eyes.

But you wouldn’t cry.

Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

Dr. Hwang’s voice came again, softer now, like he was approaching a wild animal too frightened to be touched.

“Have you been experiencing any other symptoms lately?” he asked, leaning in slightly, placing both hands gently on the desk between you. “Like memory loss, trouble concentrating, or stronger emotions than usual?”

You inhaled slowly, trying to loosen the knot that had settled in your throat like a stone.

“I— no. I mean… I don’t think so,” you murmured. “Maybe? I don’t know. The headaches, yeah. They’ve been getting worse. They’re sharper now. They don’t really go away.”

Dr. Hwang gave a slow, understanding nod. “Headaches are very common, yes. But there’s something else. This kind of tumor can start affecting your behavior. You might… not react the same way anymore.”

“What do you mean by that? Like… mood swings?”

“Mood swings, yes. But it can be more extreme. Changes in your personality. Impulsivity. Loss of your social filter. You might say or do things without thinking. Some patients become withdrawn, others act out, and some lash out. It can lead to anger, even aggression. In some cases, people fall into deep depression. There can also be episodes of hysteria, confusion, even hallucinations.”

Each word hit like a new weight being added to your chest. You instinctively crossed your arms, pulling them tightly over yourself as if trying to keep all your breaking pieces inside. It felt like the worst news yet, and that was saying something. Your stomach turned. Your breath hitched.

Is that why I’ve been snapping so easily lately?

You wanted to throw up.

“What if I don’t even realize it’s happening?” you don’t know how you’re still able to speak, but you push on. “What if I start hurting people and I don’t even know it’s the tumor making me do it?”

The thought hit you hard, sharper than anything else so far. Because in that moment, one single name, one single face, came crashing through your mind like a wave ; Suho. Your best friend. Your brother in everything but blood. The one person who had always, always been there — through stupid fights, late-night breakdowns, and everything in between.

And now? What if you became a threat to him?

The very idea made you feel like you could disappear on the spot. You would never forgive yourself. Not if you caused Suho pain. Not even by accident. You’d rather—

Die right now.

Right here. In this cold, sterile room.

“Y/N,” Dr. Hwang’s voice cut gently through the spiral of thoughts. “That’s exactly why it’s important to stay aware. To surround yourself with people you trust — people who can tell you if they notice changes. You don’t have to go through this alone. Please don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Your hands were trembling again. You clenched them tightly in your lap, trying to hold onto something — anything.

“You need to be kind to yourself,” the doctor continued. “Check in with how you’re feeling. Ask the people around you to be honest with you. Stay grounded, even if it’s hard. And it will be hard. But you don’t have to face it all by yourself.”

You let out a shaky breath.

Your voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, like it had slipped through a crack in your soul.

“I’m disappearing… and no one will see it.”

The words lingered in the space between you, heavy and honest. Dr. Hwang didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you with that same quiet gaze — no longer pitying, but something else. Something more human. Like he was seeing not just a patient, but a person who was drowning.

“As long as you still remember who you truly are… you haven’t disappeared.”

But you weren’t so sure. Because truth be told… you didn’t know who you were anymore.

The sky had worn the same muted gray all day long. It wasn’t the kind of gray that screamed thunder or promised rain — just that quiet, oppressive kind, like the whole world had exhaled and decided not to inhale again. The kind that made everything feel a little heavier, a little slower, like even the light had dimmed out of respect for the bad news.

It had been over two hours since you’d walked out of the hospital, and in that entire time, you hadn’t stopped one second from moving. You didn’t have a destination in mind — you just walked, aimlessly, block after block, through streets that blurred into each other. Your arms hung limply at your sides, your shoulders slightly hunched as if gravity itself had turned personal. Your eyes were unfocused, looking somewhere far beyond the physical world in front of you. A few cars had honked when you stepped too close to the road. A cyclist cursed at you when you nearly wandered into their lane. But you didn’t react. You just kept walking.

Inside your head, it was chaos and quiet all at once.

Thoughts were crashing into each other like waves in a storm, and yet… yet there was also this eerie stillness. A hollow space in the middle of all that noise. You knew exactly what the doctor had said — every single word had landed like a punch to the gut — but some part of your mind was still pretending it hadn’t happened. Maybe it was a survival mechanism. Maybe denial was just the last bit of kindness the brain offered before reality hit full force.

Your phone buzzed a few times in your pocket, too. Suho. He’d probably noticed you hadn’t shown up at school and was trying to figure out why. The first messages were just some usual, dramatic complaints ;

[ SUHO ] Where are you?

   [ SUHO ] Dude, you made me eat alone like a loser.

When you didn’t respond — which was rare for you — Suho’s tone changed ;

   [ SUHO ] Why don’t you answer

   [ SUHO ] You good, man?

   [ SUHO ] Y/N pick up your phone

And then came the calls. One after another. You saw them all but didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The thought of speaking to someone, even if this someone was Suho, felt impossible. Your silence wasn’t meant to be cruel — it was all you could offer.

I’ll just tell him tomorrow that I was asleep.

Eventually, your feet brought you somewhere you hadn’t planned to go — though deep down, maybe you had. You stopped in front of a tall, sleek building, its facade made of black glass and stone. It looked more like an art museum than what it actually was. You stood there for a moment, staring at the entrance. Then you took a breath, the kind that tried to brace for pain, and stepped inside.

The air inside the columbarium was strangely thick. Not dusty or musty, just… weighted.

It was quiet, too, but not in the peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your skin. Like the building itself understood the gravity of what it held — memories that had to be tiptoed around, as if sound might shatter them. The corridor you entered was softly lit by overhead lights that felt more like fog than illumination. The scent of polished stone, aging wood, and faint lilies clung to the walls. Your footsteps were nearly soundless, your shoes barely whispering against the smooth, pale floor.

You didn’t need to think about where you were going. Fifth aisle. Third niche on the right. Second row. It was etched into your bones by now. But still, when you reached it, you let your eyes find the name again — as you always did. As if reading it might make it more real.

Moon Hajoon.

Two simple words carved into marble, lined in fading gold. There was no photo, no inscription, no poetic farewell. Just a name. But that was enough. Because behind that tiny square of cold stone, in a space barely large enough to hold a box, was your father.

Your father.

You stood there, frozen in place, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. For a few seconds, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Then, finally, you sank to your knees, slowly, as if lowering yourself into water that was way too cold. Your hands trembled as they came to rest in your lap. Your heart felt like it was violently trying to break its way out of your chest, every beat sharp and too loud.

“…Dad,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

It didn’t even feel like a real word — more like a sound carried by grief. A word heavy with things unsaid.

You let your palm press flat against the marble. It was smooth, unyielding, freezing. You hoped for… something. A flicker of warmth, a vibration, a sign. But there was only stone.

“I didn’t want to come,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “I kept making excuses. Again and again. Telling myself I was too busy, or it wasn’t the right time, or I’d just come next week. And then next week turned into the week after, and then… it just kept going.”

Your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop.

“But today… I couldn’t keep lying to myself. I couldn’t breathe anymore, Dad. It felt like if I didn’t come here, I was just going to break apart.”

You let your forehead rest gently against the niche, like a little child seeking comfort. Silence filled the space again, heavy and constant.

“The doctor told me I have a brain tumor,” you say, the words falling from your lips like dead leaves. “Me too. Just like you, Dad.”

You let out a laugh — but it’s not real. It’s brittle. Hollow. A quiet, cracked sound that vanishes almost immediately into the heavy silence of the columbarium.

“It’s kind of poetic, right?” you mutter, wiping at the corner of your mouth like the bitterness is something physical. “Some sick, cosmic poetry. I spent years being angry at you for dying. For leaving me. And now… now I’m walking the same road. Same damn disease. Same sterile rooms. Same pity look from doctors.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, head tilting back as if addressing the ceiling, the sky, or whatever’s above. Maybe nothing at all.

“You know what he said to me? The doctor?” Your voice is getting tighter, angrier. “He said they couldn’t operate. Said it’s too risky, too deep. Like it’s a mine you can’t defuse, so you just… wait for it to blow.”

Your hands slide down from your lap and hit the ground, palms open against the smooth stone floor. Your shoulders tense, head hanging. Rage simmers under your skin — not the loud kind, but the deep, suffocating kind that doesn’t know where to go.

“So now what? I get pills? I get time?” Your voice shakes. “Time. That’s what they call it. ‘We’ll manage your time.’ Like I’m a fucking calendar.”

You close your eyes hard, try to breathe, but fail. Then you lower yourself further, your body folding in on itself like you’re trying to vanish into the floor. Your forehead grazes your forearm. You look so small. So fragile. Seventeen years old and already on a countdown.

“And no one knows,” you say, quieter now. “Not even Mom. Especially not Mom. She wouldn’t believe me. Or maybe she would and she’d just… shut down. Like she always does now. She hasn’t been the same since you left, Dad. Not really. Some days it’s like she’s there, and other days… she’s just smoke.”

You swallow hard, and for a second, you can’t speak. When you do, your voice is raw.

“I’m tired, Dad,” you whisper. “God, I’m so tired. I wake up tired. I go to bed tired. I laugh with people and smile and act like I’m still… alive, but I’m not. Inside it’s just… blank. Like someone turned off the lights and forgot to tell me.”

Your body curls tighter, knees pulled to your chest. In that moment, you’re no longer the sarcastic kid with the quick comebacks and dry humor. You’re just a little boy — broken and unraveling in the presence of the only person you think might still understand, even in death.

“I’m vanishing, Dad. A little more every day. I feel it. Like… I’m fading. And no one even sees it happening.”

You pause. The silence stretches. Then it snaps.

“I don’t want to die!” you burst out, your voice cracking open at the edges. “I don’t! I know I act like I don’t care, but I do. I’m scared, Dad. I’m fucking terrified.”

And that’s when the tears come — not quiet tears, not the dignified kind. These are loud, messy sobs. The kind that wrench out of your body like they’ve been trapped for years. You bury your face in your arms and let it happen. Let the grief take over. The loss. The fear. The fury.

“I don’t want to join you yet,” you cry. “It’s not fair. I didn’t get enough time — not with you, not with anything. I didn’t even get the chance to live properly, and now it’s already being taken away.”

You pound your fist lightly — not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to mean something — against the marble slab bearing your father’s name.

“Why didn’t you leave me anything?” you choke out. “A letter, a message, something. Anything. Just one sentence, one fucking instruction manual for how to get through all this. But you didn’t. You left silence. You left me this fucking tumor and silence.”

You wipe your face, though the tears keep coming anyway. It doesn’t matter. There’s no one here to see you fall apart.

“I’m scared of what comes next. Not just dying. Changing. The doctors said I might lose parts of myself. Memory. Control. Who knows what else,” you take a shaky breath. “What if I say something terrible? What if I hurt people? What if I hurt Suho? He’s all I’ve got left. What if one day I look at him and I don’t recognize him anymore? Or worse… he doesn’t recognize me.”

You shake your head slowly, like you’re trying to hold on to thoughts that are slipping through your fingers.

“I don’t want to become something ugly. I don’t want people to look at me like I’m already gone before I even die. I don’t want Mom to go through that again. She won’t survive it, Dad. I won’t survive it.”

You let the words hang there, heavy in the air, before whispering something softer, almost like a prayer.

“I need you. I know you’re gone, but I need you now more than ever. Just… say something. Please. Anything. Lie to me, if you have to. Tell me I’ll be okay. That I’ll survive this. That I’ll still be me. Always. Just tell me I’m not going to disappear completely. Dad, please.”

You press your forehead to the stone again, closing your eyes tightly.

“I want to go home,” you breathe. “But I don’t even know where that is anymore.”

You stay like that for a long time. Not crying now, but not really moving at all. Just breathing in that still, heavy air. A boy alone in a place built for the dead, clinging to the hope that some part of the person behind that stone is still listening.

And maybe, just maybe, if you stay long enough…

Someone might answer.

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note ∘ ∘ ∘ i had a hell of a crappy week, so i told myself i had to make the reader suffer too, because there’s literally no way i’m going through it alone lmao but now the problem is… i actually feel bad for him (just kidding… kinda… i do love seeing him suffer). but it’s fine. it builds character ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

taglist ∘ ∘ ∘ @suunani @naelvze @ecrvea @eijizwrld @dudekiss3r @ten0rikuma @nnryota @yeon103 @reiyaus @strawberrywith-chocolate2 @daichiwkmi @jaymiwrld @nightshadelover12 @edensparadisee @heeknow @mazettns @academiq @iluvkyo @cinnabells @deftonro @carnalcrows @wingoodlilboymyway @marsredbrrr @energydrinkstastegood @aeilani @prettywhenicry4 @starrykie @pedifero @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @starsarehere @satansdaughter123 @reveluvie-12 @ant-onie @killerd1 @xkskkskwl @dumbisme @lveegsoi @wwwritererm @nxxav3rs3 @onigiri-miyas @kamiliora (let me know if you wanna be added!)

[silknspice]

BECAUSE OF YOU (masterlist)

vi x fem! reader

precis: After leaving to mourn the mysterious death of her sister Jinx, Vi returns to Piltover determined to put the past behind her. That is, until she stumbles across the social media of a girl who may know crucial information to her sister's cold case. With secrets spilling and tensions rising, Vi hopes her sister can be put to rest because of you.

content: modern/social media au, language, lying, betrayal, mentions of death, drama, cheating, all characters are young adults (18-22), most parts are in text but some may be written chapters, perspective will be next to the chapter name

prologue

episode 001 ⎯ "IN THE STREETS OF LA" (v)

episode 002 ⎯ "SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO" (r)

episode 003 ⎯ "SELFISH AND WILD" (r)

episode 004 ⎯ "IT WAS A MAD WORLD" (r)

episode 005 ⎯ "LOOK AT ME NOW"

episode 006 ⎯ "JUST LIKE I THOUGHT"

episode 007 ⎯ "YOU DID."

epilogue

© silknspice

[ddorizrem]

backflips in a restaurant | mark lee

006. 12065 — heart sank to my stomach

you giggled at the sight of your friends’ outburst of tweets before putting your phone down to face the man of the hour. mark lee. there he was just eating his ice cream in front of you, it was adorable really.

noticing your stare at him, he smiled, “what’s funny yn?” he asked before he went back to eating his ice cream

taking a lick of your own ice cream, you let out another smile, “nothing just my friends being stupid on my tweet,”

you two sat there in comfortable silence as you ate your ice creams before mark cleared his throat, “listen yn, i’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he spoke nervously

at this moment, you swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach. is this the moment you’ve been nervously anticipating? was it really all good to be true? your eyes widened and looked at mark, “um, yeah what’s up?” you responded with the same amount of nervousness in your system

mark put his ice cream down in the cup you had gotten for the two of you and gave you his undivided attention, “i don’t know how to exactly word it but i really do want you to know i enjoy spending time with you and i don’t know about you but, i really like us and where this is going,” he said with a smile at the end before looking up directly into your eyes, “but before we get any deeper into whatever ‘we’ might be i want to be honest with you,”

you put your ice cream down in the cup next to his and put your hand over mark’s twiddling thumbs, “of course mark, i want you to know i also like us and where this is going,”

reciprocating your move, mark decides to fully hold onto your hand, making you feel butterflies in your stomach, “it’s nothing bad i promise unless it’s bad to you then i’ll feel really bad but i hope you know i don’t want it to be bad,” he rambled before finally focusing on what he was gonna say, “as you know i am a music major, and i kinda have that semi successful youtube thing going on,”

you nodded as you rubbed your thumb on his hand to ease his nervousness, “well a couple weeks ago i got this offer to do this internship to produce, and it’s really amazing one of my biggest rolemodels got me this opportunity and the school was actually shocked anyone was able to acquire the internship,” he added

“oh my goodness mark that’s amazing! i’m so proud of you,” you responded

mark smiled at you, “thank you yn, it means a lot, but i should probably get to the bad part of the news,” he spoke softly, “um well, the internship is in new york, and i leave in a couple of days,”

oh. that’s why your heart sunk to your stomach

he saw the look in your face and grabbed your hands closer to him, “yn, i’m sorry but that’s why i wanted to be honest with you and say it now. i really enjoy spending time with you and i want to see where this goes. i want to pursue you but i want to leave this choice to you. it’s not fair that i have to be across the world for 10 weeks right before i meet the most amazing girl in my life,”

“when you say leave this choice to me, what do you mean by that?” you asked

“well personally, i don’t want to loose the connection we have and i really enjoy spending time with you. regardless of in person or not i want to make what we have work so i don’t mind the distance. but also if you want to just wait for me to come back and see if we still have that connection when we pick up from there, i’m also down for that,” mark replied while rubbing his thumb on your hand

you stare up at him and let out a sad smile, “i really appreciate your honesty mark, how about we just spend the rest of the day together and see how this goes? i’ll give you my answer soon i promise,”

mark smiled at you in return, taking in your beauty, “yeah of course yn, i’d wait forever for you,”

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authors note: IM SORRYY GUYSSS this song is one of the most beautiful heart wrenching songs about yearning so chapter had to reflect </3 let me know if u guys think yn will decide to keep up the connection with mark or will she wait till he’s back in person?

taglist: @jaellymint @iluv7tn @nctdreamchaser @bbykaixx @nctubatu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @kittydollzz @worldwidecutiemaya @naeviscalled @wdwbts101 @remgeolli @nosungluv @n9vacane @markleesleftpinky @kookssecret @haesluvr @rubiiisyeon @desssss-0 @njmluvr @kooookie @thealchemy89 @markzmelons @peterm4rker @stormy1408 @brachioswrld

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

Chapter 003: Conflict of Interest

Sure, Vegas is pretty small. But little did you know a town called Hawkins, Indiana is a heck of a lot smaller.

↳ 001 (PROLOGUE) // 002 // 003 // 004 // 005 // 006 // 007 EPILOGUE

CW: slight age gap (steve is 31, sweets is 23) , tension both sexual and emotional, mentions of seggs tr@ff!ck!ng, dark past, profanities, manipulation, that's all i can think of for this chapter; mutual pining

card suits divider by @cafekitsune 🃏🧡

“WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO?”

word count: 1.3k words

Chapter 002 recap:

"And the guy next to him?" Isabelle grimaces. "The erratic one with the stripper around his arm?"

Isabelle's lips tighten bitterly.

"That's Eddie Munson... my ex-husband."

♛

CHAPTER 003

“Your WHO?!”

You should've known.

You should've fucking KNOWN. The answers were right in front of you, clear as day.

But how could you have possibly had any inkling?! Eddie is such a common name.

And who's to say Eddie wasn't short for Edwin? Or Edward. Edgar, maybe. And the fact that the man owned a strip club? Isabelle never told you that.

But there were signs for that as well. You think back to earlier.

<< If I had a stripper in my life, I would treat her like a queen. >>

"THAT'S EDDIE?" you speak again. "Steve's buddy Eddie is your Eddie?!"

"Was my Eddie," Isabelle sharply corrects you. "Clearly he's someone else's now."

And without any further thought, Isabelle struts towards the group with her hands at her hips. You storm after her, curious as to where the strong need for confrontation came from.

"My, my..." Isabelle tsks, kissing her teeth. "Just how I left ya, Eddie. In the arms of some raunchy stripper."

<< If I had a stripper in my life, I would treat her like a queen. >>

When the group registers Isabelle, the atmosphere flips.

And it’s as if your whole world is jerked upside down too, watching your best friend’s past unfold before you—a past you thought you knew all about… but clearly didn’t.

"You have some damn nerve coming up to us," Shy Girl is the first to speak up. "After everything you've done."

"You have some damn nerve saying that to me," Isabelle counters with a satisfied smirk. "Wearing my set."

When the epiphany hits her, it's evident that Shy Girl goes through a whirlwind of emotions—denial, annoyance, anger, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. Slowly, she pulls back, and Steve, ever-so-protectively, steps in, guiding her behind him as he offers his take on the situation.

“You really thought you did something walking up here, huh?” he hisses, a glare fixed on his face that is eerily similar to Isabelle’s. “The last four years mean nothing to you?”

“I can imagine they wouldn’t,” Eddie shrugs. “After all, she thinks of no one but herself.”

“ALL OF YOU put me through hell four years ago," Isabelle counters. "Must be absolute torment seeing a woman win for once in her life, huh?"

"You still with Terry?" Eddie chokes. "Or did you find some other man to use and manipulate? Or did you meet your match this time around and land yourself back in square one? Hence why you're here."

“Elle is doing just fine without you," you gather up the courage to say. "We're here to promote her lingerie line, actually. So you can pipe down."

“Elle?!” Eddie shrieks in disbelief. “ELLE. THAT'S the name you’re going by now?”

“What’s it to you?” you scoff, bitterly crossing your arms.

Your bestie’s ex-husband suddenly backs down. You can tell there’s a lot he wanted to say about the name but couldn’t figure out what.

“Nothin’,” he shrugs, tongue rolling around in his cheek. It certainly is something. “I just think it’s funny.”

“You think everything is funny, Eddie and that’s the problem," Isabelle scorns. "Putting your precious Hellfire Girls before me as they ran me out the club? Setting me up with your 'friend' who legit tried to traffic me? Screwing Chrissy Cunningham because you couldn't resist the idea that your High School Wet Dream finally wanted you after all these years? Putting me in physical and psychological turmoil that took me AGES to heal from?! Yeah...but I'm the devil."

"I never screwed Chrissy Cunningham, okay?" Eddie snaps. "By God, when are you going to let that rest?"

Your eyes trail over to Eddie's friends — and even his wife — all of them having an indecipherable gloss over their eyes. They squirm uneasily, noticeably more uncomfortable now, but still keeping their defensive stances.

BUT WAIT.

"Hold the fuck up," you raise your hand. "We're not going to gloss over what we just glossed over. You mean to tell me you almost got my best friend trafficked?!"

What WAS this life that your best friend lived before meeting you?! And why, after four years, are you just finding out about this now? In a random strip club in Vegas. An environment that now seems way too close for comfort. Could it be...?

"She left out the part where she pressed charges against MY husband and not Terry," Shy Girl barks. "Because she knew Eddie being in jail would entitle her to most of his assets. Makes her look like a goodie-two shoes."

"TERRY TRIED TO TRAFFIC YOU?"

"You know Terry?" Steve questions.

There's an alarm in his gaze, but it begins to illicit a softness the moment your eyes meet his. He raises a tender brow, eager for your input, but it seems you don't play a prominent role in this narrative.

"I know of him," you correct him. "Didn't know he tried to traffic Elle."

"So how'd you fund this business of yours?" Shy Girl questions Isabelle. "Daddy's money? Your leftover stripper money? Eddie's money that your lying ass wrongfully took?"

Your ears quirk up, and suddenly the environment is heavier.

"Leftover stripper money?" you can't help but echo.

"Wait a minute..." Shy Girl smirks. It's a memorable one.

An epiphany clicks as a dark laugh escapes her lips.

"Ohhh, it seems like your little friend didn't know you stripped, huh?What a surprise. You're in for quite the story time, girly."

You watch from the corner of your eye as Steve takes a cigarette break, a jitter in his hands so angry that it's practically seeping from his bones. Everyone else around begins to spew on about a phase in life that seemed so alien to you — all the while Steve's strong hands and delicious occupied lips were at the forefront of your attention.

A part of you feels bad that this is what you chose to hyper-fixate on. But can you really be blamed? Not when he looks like that.

"The courts are undoubtedly a just system," Isabelle snaps you back. "I deserved every penny in that settlement. I told nothing but the truth about my experience. Sorry if that taints the image you have of your husband."

"Funny how you're the one talking about telling the truth," Eddie chuckles. His gaze lands on you. "Wonder what else she doesn't know. Mind sharing with the class? Elle?”

"Even if she didn't know I was a dancer, she wouldn't have cared," Isabelle spits, speaking for you. "Women aren't objects Eddie. Kinda low of you to bag on the women who work for you."

"Who said I was bagging?" Eddie smirks. "What I'm getting at is that you're living a lie. And it's gonna catch up to you eventually, one way or another."

He steps towards his ex-wife with a seemingly newfound confidence, a rehearsed, amateur stance that still bothered Isabelle more than her exterior wanted to admit. You watch as she furrows her brows in retaliation, shaky fists clasped at her sides in rebellion.

"In fact, it looks like the day is here."

"We're leaving," Isabelle announces firmly. "Sweets and I are above this shit. This is the last thing we need."

<< If I had a stripper in my life, I would treat her like a queen. >>

Nothing made sense. Who knew the small, conservative, midwestern town that raised your best friend housed so many dark secrets? It makes you wonder if Isabelle would've even eventually told you this secret if the circumstances were better. It also makes you wonder what else she could be hiding.

You're drowning in your thoughts as Isabelle takes it upon herself to drag you out of the club. As an attempt to ground yourself to this —very odd — new reality, you turn around to get one last look at Steve and his friends.

And much to your surprise, before you can even sneak a glance at him, you notice that Steve was already looking your way too.

🏷️ taglist: @xblueriddlex @angietherose @winchester-angel @aactuaaltraash @hugdealer @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @mediocredreams @bl0ssomanddie @corkadymu @eddiesguitarskills @mrsjellymunson @cadence73 @m-chmcl-rmnc @n-slayaaaaa @corrodedcoffincumslut @kennedy-brooke @micheledawn1975 @maisiepotatobeans @1deverland

[aintashes]

strangers have never scared daryl, but he must admit that this one in particular is... different. it's not fear that he feels, necessarily, but a nagging jab of pure instinct that needles its way through his body as he takes in the presence of the man before him. somehow @innerwar is imposing: there's an energy, an invisible wave of power that radiates from him. it makes him uneasy for reasons daryl doesn't understand.

‘ ain't lookin' for no trouble, ’ he says, eyes raking with disquieted scrutiny over dracula's form. he's too relaxed for daryl's liking. it makes him think that this could be some kind of ambush— maybe he has friends hiding in the trees, just waiting for the signal to jump out at him. one single pistol, the only weapon he can see the stranger carrying, sits clean as a whistle at dracula's belt; come to think of it, he's oddly clean for being out here alone.

daryl's hands itch for his bow, for any one of his weapons, but an oppressive flow of intention keeps them at his side. dread climbs through his stomach. he wants to run. he can't run. all he can do is glare, taking one terse step backward.

[corpseri]

ᝰ.ᐟ serenity | 006

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ novel: twtptflob/roxana

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ databank: here

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ word count: 2.4k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tags: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus, @semi-wife, @elvinapandra

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

the next day:

you’re in your room, brushing your hair as the morning light filters through the window. the second day of yggdrasil has arrived, and you prepare yourself to step out once more into the world of nobles and hidden dangers. your movements are slow, methodical — anything to delay the inevitability of leaving the comfort of your room. i never thought brushing my hair would be so calming. i guess i never really got to appreciate it.

your new maid is out fetching your breakfast. you don’t know her name, and you don’t plan to. there’s no point in learning the name of someone who might not last. elaime had died almost immediately, and while you had felt a moment of disquiet at her passing, it had been brief. no bond had been forged, no attachment made. it had been easier to let go that way.

you set your brush down, exhaling softly. it’s better this way. a knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. you blink, turning toward it. "come in." the door opens, and there stands dion. he lingers at the threshold, his eyes unreadable, his presence heavy despite his silence. something about the way he stands there, unmoving, makes the air in the room feel thick. you shift slightly in your seat. "you can come in, you know."

dion steps forward, his movements sharp yet strangely hesitant. then, with no warning, he slams the door shut behind him. the abruptness of it startles you, your heartbeat quickening for just a moment. "what’s wrong?" you ask, your voice softer than he expected.

he doesn’t answer. he walks across the room until he stands right behind you, his appearance visible in the mirror in front of you. he reaches forward, taking a small section of your hair between his fingers. his touch is deliberate, his thumb grazing over the strands in a slow, thoughtful motion. you freeze, your hands stilling in your lap, still holding your hairbrush.

he’s never done this before. not like this. "dion?"

still, he says nothing. a few moments pass before he finally speaks, his voice quieter than usual. "i’ve been thinking a lot."

the weight of his words settles over you. your mind flickers back to last week once more. i never even thanked him, did i?

an odd guilt twists in your chest. dion had done something no one else had, and yet you had let it pass without a word of gratitude. that realization urges you forward before you can think better of it. you stand, stepping toward him. he watches you, his gaze unwavering. why does he always look at me like that? as if he’s searching for something only he can see.

you don’t allow yourself to hesitate. you reach up, pressing a quick peck against his cheek. the briefest touch — a whisper of warmth against his skin. "thank you."

he doesn’t move. he doesn’t speak. he only stares at you, the usual blankness of his expression made, “you already thanked me,”

a heartbeat passes. then another. i did?!

without a word, he turns away from you and makes his way to your bed, sitting down heavily. his posture is loose, his hands resting between his knees as if deep in thought.

the door opens again. your maid returns, carrying a tray of food. the moment she sees dion, her hands tremble slightly, though she keeps her head down. she places the tray on the table before glancing hesitantly at him. "d—do you need anything, young lord?"

dion barely acknowledges her. "leave."

she does, merely tripping over herself in her haste. the door clicks shut behind her, leaving the two of you alone once more.

you make your way over to the table, lifting a sandwich from the plate. without much thought, you take a bite, barely noticing the crumbs that fall onto your lips. the silence between you both is thick but not uncomfortable.

he watches you as you eat, his gaze unwavering. you feel it, the weight of it pressing against you, but you don’t shy away. he’s always watching. but why does it feel different now?

you tear off a small piece of your sandwich and hold it out to him. "want a bite?" he exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a scoff, and declines with a small shake of his head.

a faint smile tugs at your lips. you sit beside him, simply returning to your meal. the crumbs stick to your fingers, dotting your lips. before you can wipe them away, dion reaches forward. his thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate, swiping away the stray crumbs, similar to how he treated your hair a few minutes ago.

your breath catches. his touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary before his hand falls away. then, without warning, he shifts. he kneels on the floor before you, his head lowering until it rests gently against your lap.

your body stills. "dion—"

"silence."

his voice is quiet, almost tired. it’s rare to hear him sound anything but composed.

your free hand hesitates before lifting, fingers threading into his dark hair. it’s softer than you expect, silkier. you stroke lightly, feeling the way his muscles relax ever so slightly under your touch.

a part of you wonders why he’s doing this. is this comfort? is this something else entirely?

you exhale, allowing yourself to simply exist in the moment. the warmth of him against you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath. the intimacy of it all is subtle, unspoken, yet undeniable.

minutes stretch into an eternity. his breathing evens out, slow and steady, while your fingers move in soft patterns through his hair. there's something grounding about it, something that makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

you lower your gaze to him, watching the way his lashes fan against his pale skin, the way his hand has slowly clenched into the fabric of your dress as if anchoring himself. is he afraid i’ll disappear? how cute.

a strange sort of tenderness wells up in your chest. carefully, you let your fingers trace along the back of his neck, feeling the tension still coiled beneath his skin.

your voice is quiet when you finally speak. "you can stay as long as you need."

he doesn’t respond, but the way his grip tightens just slightly tells you everything you need to know. the morning light shifts, casting long shadows across the room. and still, neither of you move.

                                    ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you wake up in a daze, disoriented at first, but the familiar warmth of the blanket wrapped around you eventually pulls you back into reality. you blink, taking in your surroundings. the bed is just as you left it, and the dim light filtering through the window makes it clear that the day is well into its afternoon hours. the clock beside your bed reads 1:00 pm, and you gasp.

three hours.

it’s been three hours since you were last awake. the memory of his head resting gently in your lap still lingers in your mind, along with the soft brush of his hair beneath your fingers. you remember telling him that he could stay as long as he liked, but that was the last thing you recall before slipping into unconsciousness. you weren't sure what happened, but the thought of him — of what had happened between you two — pulls at you. what? where did he go? the clothes you wear on your body indicate that whatever you remember wasn’t a dream, but reality.

“did i… fall asleep?” you mumble under your breath, shaking your head in confusion. a strange heaviness lingers in your limbs, as if something unseen has been weighing you down. ugh, i’m eighteen but my shoulders feel like they're seventy, my back is eighty and my knees are ninety.

your thoughts are cut short when a voice interrupts the quiet of the room. you turn toward the sound, startled to find griselda sitting at the foot of your bed. she’s facing you now, her gaze calm and steady, and for a moment, you can’t quite remember when she entered the room.

“good, you’re awake.” griselda’s voice is soft but carries an edge of authority. “i’ve been waiting for you.”

you sit up slowly, still adjusting to the haziness in your mind. waiting for me? why didn’t she just wake me up? the question forms in your mouth without thought, but you swallow it before it leaves your lips. there’s something about her presence that makes you hold back. you push the thought away and try to focus on what you know.

“you need to get ready.” griselda’s words are brisk, her tone flatter than usual. without waiting for a reply, she stands and moves toward you with the smooth confidence of someone who’s done this before.

before you can react, she pulls back your blanket, exposing you to the cool air. you shiver involuntarily as she helps you sit properly on the edge of the bed. without preamble, she reaches for a washcloth and a basin of warm water from a nearby table, dabbing your face with gentle but firm strokes. the warmth seeps into your skin, shaking away the last remnants of grogginess.

she doesn’t stop there. she moves with purpose, carefully smoothing down your clothes before pulling out an outfit for the day. the fabric is heavy, luxurious, and clearly chosen with precision. she drapes it over a nearby chair before helping you out of your sleepwear, her hands deft as she adjusts each piece. the feeling of being dressed so meticulously reminds you of a doll being prepared for display.

oh… i thought the outfit i had on was what i was gonna wear.

once your clothes are perfectly in place, she retrieves a comb and begins working through your hair, untangling the knots with practiced ease. the bristles scrape against your scalp, grounding you further. when she reaches a particularly stubborn tangle, she pauses, tilts her head slightly, and then works through it with patience rather than force.

she does this so naturally… you aren’t sure if you should feel comforted or wary. i would have yanked the brush so hard the hair would have come out instead of detangling.

after she finishes with your hair, she moves on to the finishing touches. a delicate perfume, just a hint at the pulse points. a check of your posture, a slight adjustment of your sleeves. when she finally steps back, she surveys you like an artist appraising their work.

“you’re presentable now.”

you exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath. was all of that really necessary? but you say nothing. instead, you nod, signaling that you’re ready. griselda turns toward the door, and you follow her, stepping into the familiar, cavernous hallway of the mansion.

as you both make your way toward the gathering, the sounds of murmuring guests reach your ears. you pause for a brief moment before entering the banquet hall, scanning the room with curiosity. the large hall is alive with chatter and laughter, hundreds of guests filling the space with their varying voices. there, amidst the crowd, you spot roxana and lante.

but dion… he’s not here.

before you can even open your mouth to ask, roxana catches your eye, a knowing look on her face. she speaks before you can form the question. “he had to leave,” she says, her tone almost too casual, as if this is normal. “he was sent on a mission. it’ll probably take a week or more.”

you blink, processing her words. “i don’t care,” you mutter, trying to feign indifference, though a flutter of unease creeps up your spine.

“oh, you don’t now?” roxana tilts her head slightly, her lips curling in a small, enigmatic smile. “i just have a feeling,” she says cryptically, and with that, she turns back to engage in conversation with the others.

of course she did. you feel foolish for thinking you could hide your concern.

lante, not one to pass up a chance for a dig, sneers at you from across the room, his eyes narrowing in disdain. “what took you so long?” his voice is sharp, laced with an unspoken threat. “and where have you been?”

before you can even reply, griselda is beside you, her voice cutting through the tension. “she was with me, fixing up her manners,” she explains smoothly, her words laced with subtle authority. “since yesterday, i’ve noticed she’s been a bit sloppy. i thought it was best to help her tidy up before making an appearance here.”

it’s a lie. you know it, but lante doesn’t. he sneers again, obviously irritated by the late arrival, but he doesn’t push further. she lied so easily… huh, maybe the seeds planted for their betrayal were already there long before the burning of the agriche mansion.

before you can process the strange encounter, a familiar figure approaches you — luzark. despite the clear discomfort radiating from him, he greets you stiffly, his words even more awkward than usual.

“how was your stay at yggdrasil?” luzark asks, his voice distant, yet polite. his eyes flicker away from you, unable to maintain eye contact.

you smile faintly, sensing his unease but not wanting to make him more uncomfortable. “it was good,” you answer, your voice calm, though a small pang of uncertainty tugs at your chest.

luzark nods briefly, accepting your response with little more than a hum of acknowledgment before turning to leave. just as he's about to slip away, you speak again, the words escaping before you can fully consider them.

“it was nice to meet you.”

he stops walking for a moment, his back to you, and for a brief second, it feels as if he’s frozen in place. then, he continues on his way without turning back, but you know he heard you. the knowledge sits with you.

your mind shifts again to the characters around you. you think of roxana, the protagonist. it won’t be long until we’re here next year. roxana’s fifteen now. so she’ll be sixteen and i’ll be nineteen. then it hits you. no one’s ever mentioned their birthdays in the novel. lante gave roxana cassis as a gift for her birthday.

you turn to roxana, your heart pounding. “when is your birthday?”

“what?”

“when is your birthday?”

she tilts her head. “in seven months. why?”

you freeze. seven months?

i was wrong. i don’t have a year left. you have seven months. the world suddenly feels colder than before.

[aintashes]

juniper is easy to spend time with. since her arrival to alexandria and the subsequent recovery time she'd spent in the infirmary, that's actually much of what they've been doing: spending time together. whether it's here on daryl's porch steps or up on the wall for lookout duty, the two of them have made fast companions of one other.

the sudden friendship is not at all strange to him, however, as much as it might surprise others to see him warm up to someone in such little time: although daryl is not normally the type of person to make such quick connections, he's found something of a kindred spirit in her. someone who seems to understand him and his mind more than most others despite how different their backgrounds might be.

it's in the heat of an amusing moment in their conversation that his hand brushes against an unfamiliar spot on her knee, the raised texture catching his attention. almost immediately, a pit opens up in his gut— daryl knows what it's like to suddenly be thrust into a vulnerable position, and he hopes he hasn't made her uncomfortable with the accidental invasion of privacy.

but then she starts talking. telling him the story of the scar's origin. he's not sure if her intention is to ease his anxiety about the unintentional touch, as he's sure that the feeling is palpable as it rolls off of him in trembling waves; regardless of the truth, it works. ‘ must'a hurt like hell for a kid— but you got up. sure as hell sounds like you. ’ daryl nudges her with his elbow, this time intentionally and on her arm, while he offers his own attempt at lightening the mood and softening the potential emotional load of the conversation.

‘ i never had a bike growin' up, ’ he admits, thinking back on all of the times he would sit and watch neighborhood kids as they zipped through the streets on theirs. ‘ think the first time i rode one was when my brother stole one to give t'me. i was prob'ly fourteen, maybe fifteen. he was tryin'a make up for not bein' around. ’

Send “brush” to accidentally touch one of my muse’s scars. Send “trace” to purposely touch one of my muse’s scars | brush for @aintashes

It was hot as hell out here in the Virginia summertime — but she originated from Texas so really this was nothing to her. That didn't mean she didn't wish she had one of those portable fans she could hang around her neck to cool off every time she felt the sun hit her the wrong way. The shade on Daryl's porch was a welcome reprieve from the heat, sitting on the steps with him and talking about this, that, or the other; nothing of importance really, nothing that demanded their immediate attention. For once, things were kind of peaceful, something she had been looking for in Alexandria ever since she arrived her.

In the midst of joking, Daryl's hand had nudged against her knee, this hot day forcing her into some capri pants that now showed off the scar on her knee. It wasn't anything serious, although to a six year old flipping off their bike it had been at the time. The pigmentation of the scar itself had faded over time but it was still ridged against her skin, something she sometimes ran her fingers across just because.

❝ Ever go flying off a bike? ❞ She asked, more so joking around than actually asking. Didn't every kid fall of their bike at some point, training wheels or not? ❝ Happened when I was six and I can't really remember what I hit or what I really did, but the next thing I knew, I was skidding down the road right into a ditch. Screamed for my mom even though she was in the house, so I stubbornly pulled myself up, blood running down my leg and all, and went to find her. ❞

Juniper rubbed the back of her neck with a laugh before her hand moved over the back of her shoulder, just enough fabric from her shirt to cover up the injury on her back. That one was already scarring up and that little laugh she had from thinking back on a silly childhood memory, well, it was starting to sound pretty sad now. ❝ Wish I could say the rest of the scars were like that - stupid childhood accidents, you know? ❞

[jameui]

A LOVE TEXT AWAY - Jung Sungchan & Anton Lee

chapt. 006 _ who are you?

PAIRING: RIIZE's Jung Sungchan & Anton Lee x M!Reader SUMMARY: After a very weird confession over text, things started to go downhill for you, but not entirely, only until two boys came into your life and changed your life forever. NOTE(s): may contain explicit content that's not suitable for younger viewers. please read at your own risk.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: this chapter contains narration

[ chapter index ] [ previous chapter ] [ next chapter ]

the cafeteria is bustling with people, mostly because of students and some are teachers who worked in this school.

"thanks for sparing some time for me, yunho. i would die of boredom inside that room," you said before munching on the clubhouse sandwich that you bought as a snack. you huffed, while yunho only listened to you rant about your class section that he knew always stressed you out. "i mean, like, hello? i'm their classmate, too, you know? and they treat me like i'm invisible. why don't i just stick a pen into their eyes, would they finally see me?"

yunho lets out a sigh. "don't stoop that low, darling. knife those eyes!" yunho laughs darkly, you pulled your face back in terror.

"okay, you're scaring me," you commented, before yunho clears his throat and took a bite of his food. "sorry, i'm just a little stressed with my project partner. he thinks so low of me, like i'm some kind of, what? a complete slacker? puh-lease, i can do better tricks than anyone in my class," you stated out before angrily munching on your sandwich again.

"if you continue to eat your food that way, it's gonna cry," yunho joked.

"hmph!" you huffed.

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

after a few more story exchanges with yunho, unfortunately he had to leave already since he still had a lot of papers to sign. and here you are on your way back to your classroom with a paper bag filled with snacks that yunho insisted on buying since he had to cut the talk short due to the duty that is necessary to be done today.

you were just about to make a turn around the hallway towards your room, when a man that almost reached the heights of the ceiling suddenly bumped into you, the impact hard enough to make you fall. "shit.." you uttered out as the male continue to run, while your eyes were fixated on him. "could have at least said sorry!" you yelled, tutting your tongue.

you fixed yourself and dusted off any visible dirt on you, when a hand extends towards you which caused you to look up at the owner. "my apologies. it was my fault he bumped into you," the deep voice reverberated as a soft smile is displayed on his lips.

your mouth fell agape at the beauty that is standing right in front of you. he looks so surreal, so ethereal, so out of this world. even his voice sounds pretty. you hesitate to take his hand, but you did and felt the soft skin of his palm. it was like holding onto a baby's.

he helps you up and you still can't believe such man could exist in this world. "are you alright?" he asked you and you only shook your head in reply. "that's a relief. he's born to always make trouble wherever he lands," he said.

you notice his eyes on your name plate before his brows furrowed, questioning. "hold on, sorry for asking, but you're anton's partner, right?"

wait, how did he know? do they know each other? "uh, yes, actually. no one in my class wanted to group up with me, haha, funny story, i end up with him," you answered, that made him sigh. did you say too much?

"so, i'm guessing you're the one that sohee mentioned when he told us about what anton did," he told you.

you smiled. "the one and only," you said sarcastically, then paused. "wait, how do you know sohee?"

"he's a very close friend of mine, back when we were in elementary and he's also a classmate now," he replied, then suddenly remembers he had manners. "park sungchan, by the way. nice to meet you, y/n," he introduced himself, extending an arm as you shook your hands and exchanged smiles.

[faerieyoongles]

The Keepers 006

Hello, Keeper #0054. Welcome to your first assignment. Jeon Jungkook is the son of the wealthiest arms dealer in South Korea, and your job is to ensure his safety at all costs except one, he cannot know of your existence. In fact, nobody can know of our Society's existence. We have rules we must follow and a timeline to protect. Do your job and do it well... we're counting on you.

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Chapter Select My Masterlist Questions?

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warnings: gun violence, death, blood

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Chapter 006

I returned to my post at 4 AM the next day, exactly twenty-four hours after I received the authorization to leave in the first place. I grabbed anything I could before I left. Food packets, first aid supplies and medication, even an extra pocketknife just in case. I added another sack to my belt to carry more items. My guns have been polished and cleaned, both pocketknives sharpened, and I’m fully stocked with ammo. I was fully prepared to face whatever crazy quest Jungkook sent me on now, except for one annoying factor that I unfortunately couldn’t do anything about. My head was throbbing, pulsing with the rhythm of my blood as it moved through my veins. Not taking my infusion for the first time ever was a horrible idea. I couldn’t think straight, all I could feel was my muscles at my temples twitch and strain. I felt dizzy. I took some pills in the hopes it would help but no luck so far.

Upon approaching Jungkook’s window, I see another Keeper in my spot. I lock eyes with him, he nods and then moves away, disappearing into the shadows. It was the same Keeper I had seen take my place when I left my post. The substitute. I wonder if he was debriefed on Jungkook the same way I was. Does he know everything I know about him? Something inside me scraped against my scalp, causing my temples to twitch. Was it jealousy? Possessiveness? I’m not sure, all I know is I hated the idea of someone else watching over Jungkook while I was away.

I shake my thoughts away and peer back into the window looking into Jungkook’s room. He was exactly where I left him, sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. Of course, he probably had a full day in between now and when I left last night, but I liked to think that his world paused the moment I left. That I hadn’t missed out on anything.

I slowly opened his window, as I had done many nights before. The only thing that was different was his clothes. He slept on his back with his hands on his chest, his lips slightly agape. I’ve never had the urge to watch him sleep before, but right now he looked so peaceful. I envied the fact that he got to rest each night in a warm bed. The twin bunk bed I slept on at the hub was made of metal and a stiff mattress. The blankets were scratchy and barely thick enough to keep out the harsh cold of the sewers. Jungkook’s comforter looks soft and warm. All I wanted to do was crawl in next to him and shut my eyes. I bet if I laid close enough, I could fall asleep with his scent wrapped around me. In fact, this whole room smelled like him, in the best way possible. He embodied the essence of fabric softener and vanilla. I’ve never smelt anything quite as pleasant, and as I took a big whiff up my nose, I felt all my muscles soften. He’s slightly snoring, chest rising and deflating in a rhythmic pattern. I could get a little closer, smell him more, see all the little details of his face I never get to study…

Holy fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? Snap out of it, Fifty-Four, you have a job to do!

My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden bright light and disruptive ringing sound coming from Jungkook’s bedside table. It was his phone. Fuck! I slipped quickly underneath the bed just as Jungkook was opening his eyes. Thank god he didn’t store anything under there. I hear him stir above me, then the ringing sound is silenced.

“Hello.” Jungkook croaks out, voice still asleep along with the rest of his body. I can hear a muffled voice on the other side of the phone, but it’s too faint for me to make out what the other person is saying. “Now?” He questions. “Hyung, it’s-” he pauses for a beat, I’m assuming he pulled his phone back from his ear to look at the time “-four in the fucking morning. What could he possibly want at this hour?” I hear the bed above me creak loudly as he moves, the muffled voice on the other line still ranting about something. Suddenly, Jungkook's feet are right in front of my face. He stood up from the bed and was walking towards his dresser. When he walks far enough away from the bed, I can finally see his face again. He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Moving the phone away from his ear, he presses a button and the voice on the other line becomes much louder. He places the phone atop his dresser and starts opening the draws.

“He says they need them ‘in a timely manner’.” Says the voice on the other line. I’m ninety percent sure it’s Namjoon. “Normally for an order so last minute, I’d tell them to fuck off and wait till we can get to them in the afternoon, but I don’t want to aggravate him anymore than we already have.” Jungkook grabs a shirt from his dresser and takes off the one he’s wearing. Oh god, he’s undressing. I shouldn’t look, it’s creepy to keep staring at him from under his bed while he strips. I’m suddenly reminded of when he changed in front of me the first time, back in Yoongi’s building. Heat flushes my face. I didn’t feel this hot the first time I saw him almost naked. In fact, I didn’t even think about the fact that he was exposed in front of me at the time. I look away to let him change in private. It’s already invasive enough that I’m hiding under his bed. Plus, my moral code wouldn’t let me even indulge the idea of peaking a look at his unsuspecting body. “Meet me at the van when you’re ready. I already have the package loaded.”

“Alright.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and finishes changing. He’s put on the same thing he usually wears, a tee shirt and jeans with his old brown boots.

I head down to the van before Jungkook is even down the stairs. I needed time to slither underneath it again. By now, I’ve done this quite a few times, so I was used to the motions of it. I took note that there was a medium sized crate loaded in the back trunk. Namjoon hadn’t yet closed the doors when I got there. It looked the same as every other crate they delivered last week. Every one of them was filled with a variety of different weapons. Pistols, handguns, rifles, automatics, any gun I knew to exist- they sold it. Usually, there were other things like ammo, knives, sometimes explosives but I’d only ever see them trade those once. Other times, there’s trackers or silencers, maybe bullet-proof vests or shields if the customers paid enough. The more important the customer was, the bigger the package and the quicker Jungkook and Namjoon would have to get it to them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them deliver a package this big, and if Namjoon is insistent they must deliver it now, the client must be extremely important.

The two men drive about half an hour into the city. From what I know of Seoul, which isn’t a lot, this wasn’t the safest part of town to be in. It was barely even dawn, yet it seemed like the whole city was awake. Noise blared in every direction, from police sirens to people shouting. Litter was all over the street, my back scraped against a few cans and bottles, thank god for my suit or else my back would have been all scratched up. Jungkook finally turns the van down a narrow street, then down a long alleyway behind a set of buildings. This looked to be a small clearing where the shops around here kept their garbage disposals. We were surrounded by graffitied concrete walls at all angles. Even the noise of the rest of the city seemed to dim back here. Both men got out of the van, and when I looked to the side, I saw the boots of four men waiting in the corner. They walked towards the van while Jungkook and Namjoon walked to the trunk to open it.

“What took so long?” Asked a deep melancholy voice. The man speaking wore thick combat boots.

“You called in the middle of the fucking night.” Jungkook spit back as he opened the trunk, revealing the crate.

“Clearly, I should've called sooner.” The deep voice replies. “Open it.” He gestured to the other men beside him. The men move towards the trunk, and I hear the sound of the crate being popped open. The deep voiced man steps closer, peering into the crate. “This is not the amount we asked for.” He says sternly.

“Well, it’s what we have.” Jungkook says. “If you want the rest of the automatics, you’ll have to wait a few days.”

“No. We need them now. Today!” Shouts the deep voiced man. “You promised them all last week.”

“They’re not that easy to get, Taehyung.” Namjoon argues. 

Taehyung. This is the leader of the Cobras. This was the man Jungkook had been plotting against, the one he's desperately trying to cut ties with, the man going around the city leaving bodies in his trail. 

“With the quantity you’re asking for, we have to be diligent about obtaining and transporting them.” Jungkook says. “For the one's we do have, the safest bet is to transport them in smaller quantities to not look suspicious. If anybody else in the city knew we were carrying these, we'd be making ourselves a target.” I see Taehyung stalk closer to where Jungkook was standing.

“If I knew any better, I’d say you’re keeping them from me deliberately.” Taehyung sneers.

“Why would I do that?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, why would you do that?” Taehyung moves away from Jungkook and back to the crate. “I heard you paid Yoongi Hyung a visit last week.” I can feel my pulse thicken. The image of the fear in Mr. Min’s eyes flashes in my head. “How is he?”

“Fine, I guess.” Jungkook keeps his tones and breathing normal. He doesn’t seem nervous like I am.

“May I ask the reason for your visit?” Taehyung looks towards the two men, and there’s a beat before anybody says anything. “I heard Seokjin Hyung was injured too. Weird, I thought the two of them were business buddies.”

“They had a… disagreement.” Namjoon says.

“Coincidentally, at the moment you showed up?” I can hear the aggravation in Taehyung's voice. I haven’t even seen this man yet and I’m already cowering in his presence.

“It was just bad timing,” Jungkook says “We went to see him and Mr. Min ‘cause we haven’t seen them in a while. That’s all. You could go and visit them too if you want.”

Taehyung scoffs. “You know I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Namjoon asks. “Mr. Min practically raised you. You know, he doesn’t blame you for what happened that day.”

“Yeah, well I blame him.” Taehyung sneers. “My father and my bride would still be with me if it weren’t for that man.”

I hear Jungkook scoff. “‘Bride’ is a loaded word.”

“We were to be married, weren’t we? I’d probably have an heir by now if she were here, and we all would’ve benefited if the original alliance was still intact-”

“She hated you.” Jungkook spits “Don’t you remember who pleaded to break the alliance in the first place?”

“She would’ve come to understand.” Taehyung moves even closer to Jungkook, his face a mere inch from him. “She hated me then, sure, but she was mine. There would’ve been nothing she could've done about it if her father hadn’t gotten involved.”

Jungkook keeps his position, staring Taehyung straight in his eyes. "You were foolish to think Mr. Min wouldn’t have involved himself, and you’re even more of a fool if you really think she wouldn’t have just killed you herself. She was being kind by asking her father to reason with the Cobras-”

“Enough!” Taehyung growls right up against Jungkook. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

“You brought her up.” Jungkook points out. Taehyung walks away from his position in front of Jungkook.

“Unload the crate.” Taehyung orders his three men. They do as such, lifting the crate out of the trunk and onto the concrete floor. “I’ll give you three grand.”

“Only three? That’s half of what you promised for this shipment.” Jungkook spits out. He makes no effort in concealing his disdain for the gang leader.

“You only gave me half of what I asked for.” 

“Because the amount you’re asking for is impossible, we’re giving you everything we can." Jungkook holds his stance in a way that looks defensive. “This crate is worth five grand at least.”

“Need I remind you of the alliance we have with your father? You get us the weapons we need, and we protect your little business.” Taehyung and his posse stand firm. “It’d be a shame to disrupt that system over an argument about money, but I'm able to do what is necessary. Get us our weapons, and we won't have a problem.” I can hear a gun being raised. 

I have to move to a better position. If something goes down, I’ll never get to Jungkook quickly enough from under the van. I moved to the front, opposite where everyone was standing. I slip out and stand in front of the hood. If I moved to the top of the van and laid flat, I would still be well hidden. Plus, I’d have the advantage if a shootout were to happen. It was still pretty dark out, and my suit does exactly what it’s intended for, blending in with the shadows. Moving to the top of the van, I peer down but only slightly. If I lift my gaze too high, I’d be too exposed.

In the corner of my eye, I see a shadow move. I look in that direction, but there’s nothing. I advert my gaze back to the men in front of me, but there it is again. A swift shadowing moving behind one of the large disposal bins. I hone my focus on the shadow for a moment. No, not a shadow, a Keeper. Who else here had a Keeper protecting them? Maybe Taehyung. But why would a notorious mass murderer have the honor of the protection of a Keeper? I know the Head Grieve said death and destruction was necessary in order to keep the timeline heading towards the best outcome for society, but somebody like Taehyung seemed to only cause harm. What could Taehyung possibly provide that could be counted as constructive? 

The other Keeper hiding behind the garbage locks eyes with me. Fuck, this means that if shit really hits the fan, I can’t just team up with Jungkook like I did last time. I could actually get in serious trouble if another Keeper saw me expose myself to a human.

“Listen, Hyung,” Jungkook has his hands up, showing complacency “this is genuinely the best we can do.”

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” Taehyung accuses. “Why do I feel like you’re purposely withholding weapons from us? This whole month, you’ve given us nothing but issues every time we request a shipment. Now, you’re in cahoots with the Mins again?”

“We’re not ‘in cahoots’ with anybody, it was just a visit.” He pleads.

“You’re a terrible liar, Kook. Does your father know about your little day trip?” Jungkook goes silent. “Of course he doesn’t. He’d probably kill you himself if he knew.”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon interjects, “put the gun down and we'll work something out.”

Taehyung moves his eyes over to Namjoon. “I’ve already worked something out.” He looks back at Jungkook. “I’ve spoken to your father.” Jungkook’s face drops. This is the first time I’ve seen him show any real fear. It seems the scariest thing that actually shakes Jungkook to the core, is his father. “He says any potential deals with the Mins have been rejected. He promised all ties with them had been fully severed.”

“And you believe everything my father says?” Jungkook retorts. “I have a contract right here-”

“Kook.” Namjoon warns. He flashes a look to him, almost as if asking ‘we’re doing this now?’

“that proves he, himself, reopened business with the Mins.” Jungkook continues. Taehyung goes silent for a moment, he looks almost hurt.

“I don’t believe you.” He challenges.

“See for yourself.” Jungkook pulled out the document we stole from Yoongi’s office out from his back pocket. How long has he been carrying that thing around with him? He unfolds it and shows it to Taehyung. “By the end of this month, we’ll no longer be providing our services to you. All our products will go to the Min Industries.”

Taehyung just stands there in awe-struck. I can see the paper shaking in his hand as he reads it. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” He promises. Taehyung crumples the documents and chucks it at Jungkook's chest. “If you stay out of our way, we’ll stay out of yours. The Mins will leave the Cobra’s alone, so long as you stay away from both our businesses.”

“I will kill both of you and everyone you love!” Taehyung yells.

“Unless you want the Mins to turn you into the police, I suggest you not do that.” Jungkook warns.

“Fuck the police, they’ve been on our tails for years.” 

“Because they could never find you,” Namjoon stalks a little closer to the gang leader, who’s flailing his arms in disbelief. “you wouldn’t want somebody exposing your whereabouts to the law, would you?”

“Is that a threat?” Taehyung questions.

“It’s a warning.” Jungkook states. 

“Fuck your warnings!” Taehyung shouts. “I’m king of this city, and those who are not allies are enemies. Do you know what I do to my enemies?” Taehyung raises his gun again, and so do the three men behind him. “I ruin them!”

Taehyung fires his gun, but just as he does so he’s tackled to the ground by Namjoon. The bullet he fired barely misses Jungkook's head and puts a dent in the wall. Fuck, this is terrible. I can’t do much except shoot from my position. I take my gun out from its holster and point it straight at Taehyung, who’s lying on the ground trying to dodge the punches Namjoon throws at him. Two of the other Cobras are also trying to pry Namjoon off Taehyung, while the third Cobra is getting his ass beat by Jungkook. The poor guy is knocked out cold in seconds. I try to keep my aim steady, as to not accidentally shoot Namjoon in the process, but they’re twisting and turning all over the place it’s hard to get a solid shot. I finally feel like I have a good angle, I’m about to take a shot when I feel excruciating pressure on my back. I let out a horrid scream, catching the attention of most men below the van.

I look behind me and see the Keeper that was behind the garbage bins. She was standing on my back. Not just standing, stomping. I could feel my spine threaten to snap and she jammed her boots along the outline of my bones. What. The. Fuck. She was deliberately exposing herself, standing straight up atop the van for all six men below to see. Are there any Keepers who actually abide by the rules in this city? Fuck it then, if she’s going to play dirty, then so am I. So much for staying in the shadows.

I move my gun and aim it at her head. I shoot and she dodges quickly. She reaches down to try and pull my gun from me, I use this opportunity of a close proximity to headbutt her in the face. I hear her groan, along with a cracking sound that I’m assuming is her nose breaking. She tumbles backwards, giving me the ability to stand up. My back has a piercing pain running up and down it, but I push that to the side for now. I look back at Jungkook, and he has the last two remaining Cobras both jumping on him. I can deal with the Keeper later, I have to save Jungkook first.

I hop off the van and tackle one of the Cobras attacking Jungkook. The first one isn’t easy to take down. I twist his arm back and he yells like a baby. I kick him hard in the stomach, sending him flying back towards the wall. The other one comes at me, I take one of my pocketknives out from my belt and flick it open. The Cobra latches onto me for a moment, then my knife is in his abdomen the next. He looks me in the eyes as I twist the knife deeper into his flesh. The two Cobras I just took down looked young, and I almost feel bad.

“I see you have your own Keeper now, Kook.” I hear Taehyung say from behind me. I turn around and see Taehyung and the other Keeper standing next to each other. I have a million questions dancing in my head, but there’s no time to address any of them. By Taehyung’s feet lay Namjoon holding his stomach. He doesn’t look so good. There’s blood running down his shirt and dripping onto the ground. “She may be able to protect you, but she can’t protect the ones you love.” Taehyung takes his gun and aims it towards Namjoon’s head. “Take off your mask, Keeper!” he shouts at me. “Now! Or I’ll shoot!” I don’t want Namjoon to die, but I refuse to take my mask off, especially after Mr. Min’s warning.

"Why?" I ask, firmly.

"I want to see the look on your face when I kill you and your assignment." Taehyung has the most vicious smirk across his face.

“Please.” I look behind me and see a pleading Jungkook, scared and desperate.

I raise my gun towards Taehyung’s head. A second later, the other Keeper takes out her gun and aims it at Jungkook’s head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She says. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. There’s no way out of this. I can’t find a solution where I can get both of them out and keep my mask on. I sit silent for a moment, but nothing changes. If I shoot, Jungkook dies. If I do nothing, Namjoon dies, and maybe Jungkook too. We’ve been outsmarted. I’ve been outsmarted. Why do I keep constantly failing?

I lift my hand and pull my hood back. My long black hair is kept neatly back in a ponytail. I can feel my hair swing out and touch my back once my hood has been fully removed. I move to my face, my heart throbbing so loud I can hear it in my ears. I take the mask and remove it off my face. I feel the cold air of the night hit my pores instantly, and I can smell the musty city clearer now.

I look Taehyung straight in the eyes. “There.” I say. His face drops, eyes shoot out in horrible disbelief. “Happy?”

I look over at Namjoon, and he’s giving me the same look. I look back at Jungkook, and he too looks like he’s seen a ghost. What’s going on? This was the same reaction Mr. Min had when he looked into my eyes the first time. Damn, was I really that ugly or something?

“You.” Taehyung croaks out. “You’re supposed to be dead!” I look at him confused. The other Keeper moves closer to Taehyung.

“Our memories are wiped upon entering the Society.” She says into his ear. “She likely has no idea who she even is.”

“Did you know about this?” Taehyung sneers at his Keeper beside him. She nods slowly.

“She entered the hub about a week ago.” She replies.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of that!” Taehyung yells, he moves his gun from aiming at Namjoon to the Keeper. Instead of attacking him, she backs away.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” She insists. Jungkook takes this as an opportunity to move towards the bleeding Namjoon on the floor. I follow, Namjoon continues to stare up at me, face going pale. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s shocked to see me or because of the amount of blood he’s losing. “Love, please. I swear, I was planning on telling you.”

“When exactly? I trust you with everything and I expect the same in return!”

“I do trust you!” She pleads. She removes her own hood and mask to reveal her face. It was the girl from the hub, the one who sat facing away from me in the corner. “I just- I knew how much this would affect you…”

I hand Jungkook some gauze from my sack, though I don’t think they’re going to do much. Namjoon’s been hit right where his lungs are, and he’s starting to wheeze, his eyelids fluttering open and shut.

“No, no. Hey, look at me.” Jungkook says softly to him, slapping his cheek a few times to wake him up. ���No dying tonight, alright.” Namjoon doesn’t respond, just tries his hardest to keep his eyes open.

“We have to go.” I say softly to Jungkook. He looks back at me, and there’s water building up at the base of his eyes. He looks back at Namjoon, then me, then Namjoon again. “Put him in the back of the van.” He nods. I take one side of Namjoon and Jungkook takes the other. We hoist him up and try to lead him to the trunk of the van.

“Stop!” Taehyung ordered us. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“Hyung, he’s dying!” Jungkook pleads.

“I don’t give a shit!” Taehyung yells. “All of you are dead to me anyways.” Taehyung raises his gun once more. I try to grab mine at my belt, but both my hands are occupied trying to hold Namjoon up. There’s not enough time to react.

It seemed like minutes, but it was only seconds. The bullet leaves the chamber of Taehyung’s gun, the blast echoing off every wall around us. As soon as I hear the gunshot, I feel Namjoon go limp.

There’s a bullet hole, right between his eyes.

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Author's note: Hey! Thanks for being so patient with me, sorry about the long wait. In the past week, my dizziness has kind of worsened, I'm going to try and do my best to keep up with posting three times a week, but I might have to start doing twice a week instead. If I plan on being slow to update again, I'll let you know in advance!

Also, I decided I'm not going to do a taglist. Not a ton of people asked to be a part of it, plus my tags aren't working correctly. I don't know if it's an issue with my laptop or what, but it's just inconvenient and unnecessary so I decided I'm just not going to do it lol. Sorry!

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[sankta-starkova]

THE OUTSIDERS;

006 | supreme lord of the bathroom

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

wordcount: 2k

The next day, Percy woke up with a jolt after his nightmare. When he looked around, he noticed that the boy from yesterday, Luke, was watching.

He scrambled up, feeling the embarrassment flush over him as he realised that everyone had seen his moment.

"You alright?" Luke asked, holding a hand out and helping the boy up.

"Super," he said sarcastically, brushing his hands on his clothes.

"We all have them you know. Intense recurring nightmares. And the daydreams, and the ADHD and dyslexia. Demigods just process things differently," he explained.

Percy instantly felt at ease with this boy but was still unsure whether Daisy trusted him or not. If she did, then he knew he was okay.

"So are you also?" Percy tried to ask him whether he had a parent or not here, but didn't know how to phrase it, "Do you not know who-"

He chuckled a little at the boys confusion, "Am I unclaimed? No, Hermes is my father but that doesn't matter. We're all on the same team here,"

Percy scoffed. There was this anger bubbling up inside of him at the unfairness of the way that the gods could just ignore their children.

"Why is that okay? Why do they bring us here to ignore some of us?" He questioned.

Lukes face lit up. This was perfect. Percy was perfect and his raw hatred to the Gods was going to help his cause more than he knew.

"If you spend too much time trying to figure out why the Gods do whay they do and you'll drive yourself mad," he said, a smile on his face.

They were silent for a second, neither knew what to do. Percy was supposed to have his tour but his your guide had not yet arrived.

"Luckily you got here for summer which means our resident newby helper is back here to visit," Luke explained, "We'll show you around and tell you what camp has to offer,"

"What's that?" He asked, still not sure what the purpose of camp was or what he could gain from it.

That smirk grew on Lukes face again, "Glory,"

Percy let that sink in for a second, wondering how a camp could bring him glory before he realised that someone was going to be helping Luke to show him around, "Who will be leading us round?"

"She was the medic who looked after you, Desdemona Valance. Most beautiful woman in all of New York," he said with a lovesick expression.

Percys face scrunched up in confusion. He had noticed some tension between them and had assumed it was anger, maybe it was just love. 

"She didn't seem like she liked you too much yesterday," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

He laughed, finding it funny that Percy thought that, "Don't you worry kid, she likes me plenty," he promised.

He knew Daisy had walked in by the way that everyone clambered to say hello to her but she just said her hellos and good mornings and walked over to see Luke and Percy.

"Just in time pretty girl," he admired her for a second, long hair tied up with a bow in the back before he looked at Percy, "You remember Daisy,"

Of course he remembered her. He had only felt safe around one person so far and that was her.

"You better watch your mouth Castellan, you keep calling me pretty and I'll get an ego," she teased.

He scoffed, the smile on his face growing, "Apollo kids always have an ego,"

They seemed to be in their own world, not paying attention to anyone else. The older boy tapped his cheek.

She sighed at his antics, trying to hide her smile but it was obvious on her face.

Daisy leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Luke placed two fingers on the underside of her jaw, maneuvering her so he could press a kiss to her lips.

"Oh," Percy said as he realised that they were dating, now it all made sense.

Daisy blushed, having forgotten that the boy was there. Luke, however, knew he whole time.

"See, she likes me plenty," he stated, an arm wrapping around her waist.

Daisy said her good mornings to Percy before jumping straight into her job, "So, what has Luke been filling your head with?

"Glory," he stated.

She scoffed, looking at him. She knew what he wanted to do, she knew exactly what she saw in Percy and it made that bitter feeling grow in her stomach.

Daisy shrugged it off, hoping that her instincts were wrong as she gestured for them to walk out of the cabin with her.

Luke seemed excited as he explained the concept of Glory to him, molding the boy as he needed, "Demigods have always fought for Glory. They used to call it Kleos, its like this stuff that attaches itself to your name and makes it more important,"

Percy seemed eager to soak up the older boys information, watching him as they walked.

"People listen when you talk, they work harder to be your friend and they think twice before messing with you," he explained.

They crossed paths with Clarisse and her group of friends, the former of which purposefully bumping into Percy.

He was knocked to the ground and she looked at him, turning her nose up.

"Knock it off Clarise, it's his first day," Luke said, almost squaring up to her.

Daisy leaned down, holding her hand out and helping Percy up. He shrunk back, feeling safe in between Daisy and Luke.

"So this is the kid who killed the minotaur," Clarisse said, eyeing Percy up like he was a prey and she was the predator.

"Yeah?" The boy said, trying not to sound too timid.

"You want attention around here, better be ready for it when it comes," she walked off after that comment, her and her group laughing to themselves.

He scoffed, watching her ealk away, "Well she seems nice. Why don't they mess with you two?"

Daisy and Luke shared a knowing look. It was something the new kid would have to get used to, the way that the couple could almost read each others minds.

"They know better," Percy said.

Chris saw the altercation and had rushed over, standing at Lukes side, a hand on his shoulder.

"Luke is the strongest swordsman in camp. Daisy is the best archer and the best medic," he explained.

Percy looked at him. For the first time in his life he had become friends with the popular kids, the people that nobody dared to mess with.

"They leave you two alone because of Glory?" It was almost a rhetorical question and Daisy could see the cogs turning in his head, "People think you're a big deal,"

He was silent for a moment, almost like he was thinking about Glory. This was the way to get his father to notice him, for him to finally confront him.

"Where do we start?" Percy said after a while.

"Archery, my specialist subject," she said before she started to walk up the hill.

The kid finally managed to get a good look at camp. He saw the vast expanses of the strawberry fields and the pegasi as they walked around with the Demeter kids.

He also saw Glory in action. Everyone was nice to Daisy and Luke, saying hello and complimenting them. Some stayed clear of them, eyeing them suspiciously.

Percy knew he had found the good ones and he wasn't going to be leaving any time soon.

When they arrived at the top of the hill, the Archery section was mostly full of other Apollo kids.

"A good source of Glory are feats of skill, so we gotta figure out what you're good at," Daisy explained before saying hello to a few people.

"Watch her do this," Luke whispered to Percy as they watched her grab her specific bow.

She lined herself up against the target and took a shot and they all watched as it hit the bullseye. She shot another arrow out and it hit the same target, splitting the previous arrow in half.

She turned around and looked at the duo, her bow still aimed at the target. She hit it again, slightly higher this time so she didn't split the arrow a third time.

She put the bow down at her feet and everyone cheered. This was her glory, her special skill.

"Thats my girl," Luke cheered, pulling her in for a hug.

She pulled back so just his arm was wrapped around her waist. She picked up the bow, handing it to him.

"You try kid," he looked at the bow, clearly a little hesitant.

He positioned the bow, trying to replicate what she had done but he didnt shoot very well.

Instead, the arrow bounced back and started to bounce through the crowd of people.

Luke pulled her back, both of them ducking as they tried to avoid his aim.

"Should I try again?" Percy asked sheepishly.

She shook her hand, giving him a sympathetic smile, "Definitely not Apollo," she said as they took the bow back.

"Lets try another one," Luke suggested.

From there, they walked to the nearest cabin and their workstation which was just across the hill in the Hephestaus cabin workshop. 

"Hey Jake, got a new kid," Luke said and Jake took a step back from the anvil, handing Percy his goggles.

Percy tried to hammer the hot metal, focusing all of his energy onto it. They watched, arms crossed as he tried his hardest.

Instead, the broken piece of metal shot out across the room and this time, it was Daisy who pulled him back so he wasn't hit by the flaming metal.

Percy looked at them as he pulled the goggles off. He felt awkward, and like he was disappointing his new friends.

"Lets have lunch," Daisy suggested, placing a hand on the kids shoulder before they walked away.

She wanted to take some pressure off of him. Glory would find him eventually, he just had to wait for it a little bit.

They entered the clearing and luke lead the way into the mess hall where all the other demigods were sat eating their lunch.

He walked over to the table where Nina was sitting alone and after grabbing food for everyone, they sat down at the table.

"Percy, this is my friend Nina, daughter of Demeter. Nina, this is Percy," she introduced as they sat down.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment because maybe you should ask him if he's missing a kid," Percy said, defeatist.

Daisy remembered waiting only about four hours before her dad claimed her as his, but that was very common for Apollo kids.

She couldn't imagine the turmoil the boy must be going through seeing as it had already been a day since he joined.

"Oizys, but she's a goddess and her whole thing is more like failure," Chris said as he walked over, sitting down next to Nina

"You're cheery," Nina quipped, rolling her eyes at his comment.

"We'll find what you're good at, I know it," Daisy promised.

He gave her a half hearted smile, clearly upset and angry at the fact that his dad didnt want to claim him.

She watched the cogs in Lukes head turn. She knew he wanted to say something spiteful about the Gods but before he could, the bell went.

"Our turn," Nina said.

Almost like they were under some sort of spell, they all got up with their plates of food and started to approach the fire.

Percy looked at them confused, watching people scrape bits of food off of their plates.

"Is the food here really that bad?" He asked.

"Burnt offering. The Gods like smell so you say it before a prayer," Chris explained and Percy stood up.

"They like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?" He questioned, still confused about all the rituals of this place.

"They like the smell of begging," Luke stated.

As they scraped their food into the fire, Daisy looked at Luke. There was a strange and michevious glint in his eye.

She knew that this wasn't going to end well and her heart sank in her chest. She had to save Percy.

If you want to be added to the taglist then send me an ask or comment here. Hope you have all been enjoying this so far. This is probably one of my chapters so I hope you all liked it :)

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@b3bybunny

[mixtape-racha]

it's a scream, baby! | hyunlix

chapter ten: everybody's a suspect

words: 942 // warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, discussions of sex and drugs

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILLCOUNT: 006

a/n: this is a proper shitty little filler, sorry guys :(

once everyone had got their belongings from their respective cars - all being quick to call dibs on a bedroom, (y/n) choosing changbin’s elder sister’s room - they decided to just have a nice and easy night. they wanted to order in some food, stick on a movie and just switch off from the world, which was nice and much needed. changbin’s parents were even nice enough to have a food shopping delivery to the house within a few hours of them being their. 

(y/n) decided to take a nap by mid-afternoon, the exhaustion of the past week catching up with her all at once. and changbin’s sister’s room was cozy, comfortable. where the older seo sibling had moved abroad to get her doctorate, she was rarely in the family home and her room had almost a hotel-vibe to it. she’d spoken to changbin’s sister earlier in the day too, the older girls giving her express permission - in fact, encouragement - to use or steal any of her belongings at the home that she might need.

amazingly, (y/n) managed to sleep peacefully until early evening, when seungmin came and woke her up for dinner. the guys had decided to get in some fried chicken and watch an old jamie lee curtis movie while all cuddled up on the seo’s unusually massive sofa. (y/n) placed herself next to felix, hyunjin quick to join her other side, and she felt her heart race increase being sandwiched between the two males who both held very special places in her heart.

she tuned out most the night, having known the boys long enough to know the correct times to nod her head and give a hum, or a simple “yeah”, while they were telling a story. she felt like she could hear her heartbeat in his ears, the organ jumping up into her throat everytime felix’s hand brushed her skin, or hyunjin rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

it was silly, she was best friends with these guys, so why were simple actions making her clench her thighs together, a dampness forming between her legs? no matter how hard she tried to focus on the movie - now on halloween 4: the return of michael myers - she couldn’t help but be hyperfocused on everything surrounding her.

it was only when seungmin and jisung started bickering again that she was pulled from her almost hypnosis, the laughter of the other boys around her filling her ears.

“seriously, jisung, there is no way following some stupid fucking rules can guarantee someone’s survival, even in a fucking movie. its so dumb.” seungmin was almost hysterical, unable to grasp how jisung was so serious about the topic.

over the fits of laughter, which (y/n) couldn’t help herself from joining in on - it was contagious, and jisung’s serious face was too much to bare - she managed to utter out a single question.

“what rules?”

jisung quickly paused the movie, the action met with groans from various parts of the couch, but shushed them down with an obscenely shocked expression on his face.

“you– you don’t know the rules? do none of you know the rules?”

it was amusing to watch, the way jisung’s beer sloshed in the bottle as he accusingly pointed around the room. (y/n) couldn’t help the way she curled into hyunjin’s side, her giggles becoming uncontrollable.

“none of you know the damn rules! holy shit, you’re such amateurs!” he exclaimed, eyes wider than they had ever been before.

“fucking hell, have an aneurysm, why don’t ya?” changbin snickered, carefully dodging the throw cushion that jisung launched at him in response.

“guys, come on. there are certain rules one must abide by to successfully survive a horror movie!”

the rest of the room slowly went quiet, as jisung’s enthusiasm rose. they knew one they got him on a tangent there was no stopping him, especially when he had alcohol in his system. there was no stopping him now, so they may as well indulge in how loud and annoying he was about to become.

“for example; you can never have sex during the course of the movie - the final girl is always a virgin, and innumerable victims are killed after finally indulging in a cheeky fuck.”

he seemed so proud of himself for capturing the undivided attention of everyone in the room, but that was quickly broken when minho and hyunjin started hooting out in laughter. everyone else soon joined in, seungmin dramatically falling across the laps of everyone on the couch.

“me and minho fuck at least once a day! we’re deaaaaaaad–!”

“you?! we’re all dead! michael myers come and take us now!” (y/n) chimed in, her giggles almost drowning out her words.

it was only when jisung began shushing everyone and stomping his foot like a child that he got their attention again, dutifully informing them there was two more rules to go yet.

“secondly, you can’t.. you can’t drink,” he cried out, tapping on the bottle in his hand. “or do drugs! its the whole innocence scale!”

“and finally, never, under any circumstances, ever say ‘i’ll be right back’. because you won’t be back. famous last words, you know? you’ll probably be the next victim.”

he looked so proud and accomplished that no one even noticed hyunjin had got off the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

“hey, i’m getting another beer. you want one?” he called out, to which jisung shrugged him off with a please, and a devilish smirk grew on hyunjin’s face. “okay. i’ll be right back!” he cackled before skipping off, leaving jisung in shock and the whole room in hysterics.

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[xomakara]

Diving Into You

DIY Chap. Master || Previous || Next

Chapter 006

You’re in a dream. Exiting the packed train that arrived to bring you to Busan, you turn back one more time in awe.

Your boyfriend is probably waiting for you in his hotel room because it’s late…All you know is that he’s waiting for you, and you’re about to see him again.

When you texted him about the sleeping arrangements earlier, he sent you a reply saying that the members that came on this trip were all rooming together and that he was left with a room to himself. They knew you were coming along and they wanted to be far away from whatever filth the two of you got up to.

Your heart is racing in anticipation, wondering what’s in store for you when you meet him. A pearl white limo glides into the parking lot that you’re waiting for your ride, and it takes a moment for you to realise it’s for you.

You're living the perfect dream.

As the chauffeur opens the door, you stop short.

There he is. The handsome devil who’s taken over your dreams.

It takes every ounce of your restraint to not throw yourself into his arms and kiss him dizzy.

The mellow lit interior of the limo, partition pulled up, you feel cocooned in the safe comfort of his presence. His scent fills your lungs, spicy cologne with his perfect unique scent.

“Y/N, you made me wait way too long. Come to me now.”

His words rush over you like a waterfall, a warm, calming one—but nothing about your insides is calm.

“So…” You started, looking around the limo. “Is it just you and I here?”

Jeno laughs, his hand finding yours. He entwines his fingers and yours together. “ Yeah, just you and me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “The guys?”

“They wandered off with the hyungs somewhere.” Jeno replied.

“And what’s with the limo?” You asked, a slight giggle coming from you. “When did my Jeno become such a romantic grown-up?”

“You don’t like this?” Jeno asked, a playful frown on his lips.

You shook your head. “No, I love it.”

There’s a fire in your belly, a tingling between your legs that’s unique to his thoughts and his presence. As you curl into his shoulder, your mouth tilts upward of its own accord. He gives you what you need.

His warm lips take yours with gentle urgency, tasting the contours, taking his time. It’s as if he's trying to memorise the contours and the world shuts itself off completely.

The muted buzz of the engine, the moving car, does nothing to distract you as you curl your leg over his thigh. He strokes the bare flesh with a rough hand, his fingers digging into you briefly as he yanks you over him.

You’re straddling his thighs, cupping his face, your finger running through his thick hair.

“Baby, I’ve waited for this. You, riding my cock. Your tits in my face. Your tongue in my mouth. You make me desperate.” Jeno muttered against your lips.

“You’re such a sex maniac, Lee Jeno.”

“And you love it, don’t you?”

His words spur the greed to have him. You drag yourself forward on his thighs until your crotch presses against his cock. The thick, engorged shaft is trapped sideways in his tailored pants. You grind over him, gasping against his hungry kiss as you feel the spur of your orgasm building to a swift crescendo.

It’s untameable, wild, and by the time he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, you’re grating harder on him.

It takes a mere twist of his fingers to rip your panties, and you gasp in a mixture of shock and delight. His hands are swift and skilled as he unbuckles his belt, digging in and pulling out his perfectly thick cock.

Your palm slides over the hot rod that’s waiting for your pussy. It’s rock hard, for your pussy.

“Just you, baby. Only you can do this to me. Drive me hot and wild. I want my cock in your sweet mouth, then in your pussy, then back in your sweet mouth.”

You take his words as a command. Kneeling on the floor between his legs, your lips close hungrily on the capped head of his cock.

The muted light, the silence, the purr of the engine, everything drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

Tasting him, sucking him, your tongue flat against the underside as your head bobs up and down.

Your eyes closed, you revel in the taste of him. When you squeeze the root, a warm bead of precum coats your tongue. You can’t help it, you suck harder, wanting more, sucking him wildly. With a growl, he yanks you up and clutches your ass in a fierce grip.

You’re about to scream in the madness of the movement. Jeno undoes the buttons on your shirt, freeing your tits to his sight. Your hips hover over his cock and you reach down, grabbing his cock. Holding him up by the root, you rock your hips on it until the head pops into place.

Leaning back, you slam onto him with a cry.

His fingers slip into your mouth and you suck them hard, rocking over him, your breast swaying in his face as you ride him with wild abandon.

Burred lights on the streets, people, the life of the city lives on—oblivious to the madness driving climax between your legs. He's so big, he stretches your pussy perfectly. It’s like he's made for you, and you arch your back at an angle that will get his cock deeper…

Slamming onto him grinding, moaning. All the while, he devours your breasts, the warmth of his mouth, the sharp sucks, all sending stabs of desire sharply to your clit.

Your pussy throbs with a pulse of its own, radiating with the tell-tale urgency leading up to orgasm. The friction of his thick cock makes everything oh-so-better. Your pussy lips burn just as you bite his jaw, clutching handfuls of his hair, jerking savagely over him as you let out a crazed scream of pure euphoric gratification.

The warm gush of your orgasm spills onto him, soaking his balls. In some faraway corner of your mind, you realise how brazen and greedy you are. But this is exactly what he is for.

Fucking.

This is what he is to you, and you are to him. His cock is meant to be enjoyed, ridden, sucked, with absolute gluttony.

So, when he peels you off his cock forcefully and shoves you down along the seat, you cry out in protest. But he’s got you. His cock shoves straight inside you again.

You scream every time he burrows too deep, his balls slapping wetly. Your palms push against the door to stay in place, his thrusts jerking you inches higher on the seat every single time.

The head of his cock, the pulsating veins throbbing in his shaft, all trapped so deep inside you. Your pussy is hungry for the cum he's about to feed it.. When you get it all, you squeeze your pussy tight on him, milking his cock.

He grunts in pleasure that mimics yours. Hot. With a mind of its own.

For long minutes, his forehand rests on your tit. He’s unmoving, his strong shoulders tense as he tries to catch his breath.

His cock grows semi-hard inside you, but you can never have enough. You’re rocking your hips, still wanting him, unabatedly craving his touch and his fucking.

Your clit still throbs for more.

When he doesn’t give you what you want, you slip your fingers between your legs, stroking yourself, rocking onto his hardening cock as you reach another orgasm.

Holding your legs up and apart, his eyes are blazing hot as he glares at you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t hold out on me. Rub your clit for me hard. I love watching you cum.”

Biting your lip, you hold his gaze, slipping your fingers up and your slit. Burnishing your clit in quick circles.

It’s utter madness of pleasure as he watches you touch yourself. You’re hooked.

DIY Chap. Master || Previous || Next

[aintashes]

— closed starter for rien ( @chaos--mode ) !

it's not often anymore that daryl is able to take on any kind of scouting mission without aaron close at his side. not that he minds it, necessarily; these expeditions are crucial in keeping the proverbial gas in alexandria's tank, and that's what matters now. it's something that he's good at, too: who better than daryl dixon to have out here making maps, scavenging for supplies, and finding people? and aaron is a great companion to that. a capable traveler and much better at the social stuff. but even so, sometimes daryl just needs an extra few days to be truly alone out here.

he had to convince aaron of that, especially, as he was packing up to go. there was something yearning in the hand that had rested on daryl's arm before he'd left their community— something in aaron's eyes that said i really don't want you to go alone. but he'd yielded after airing his concerns. stopping daryl once he's set on something is not exactly easy ( or possible, in most cases, stubborn as he can be ).

pulling a folded sheet of paper from his vest pocket, he gives the area a cursory glance. daryl had chosen this little town center to explore because he felt he could handle it on his own— it's not like he plans to get too deep into anything. this is just a scouting mission, anyway. he's just here to see what he can see, maybe stuff a few things into his bag if he can. the first thing he comes to notice is that there no signs of people around here; a few of the dead are roaming around, but nothing too wild.

there are plenty of storefronts here to scavenge later, though. a couple houses down the street, too. he unfolds the wrinkled page and pulls out a marker. using a car's hood as a writing surface, daryl quickly marks out a few things— roads, danger zones, little notes here and there.

[mmkin]

Shameless Wily simping fun... also, the next chapter of Forever Clockwork is done faster than I anticipated, so here's the link on AO3, the chapter is also included under the cut.

Content warning - None (some flirting, but teen safe/SFW)

(Yes, these are the scrubs described in the fic, my first time ever drawing scrubs. I obviously need more practice, but it was still a hoot to draw)

III

o0o0o0o

(Wily’s POV)

Wily glanced down at the tablet, occasionally tapping the screen as he looked at the design and schematics of the robot that was on the table before him.

Robots these days were designed with fail-safes or automatic shutdowns that were triggered by certain behaviors. For example, a maid-bot might not be able to go more than a designated amount of meters from a house before it receives a warning signal, and if it ignores said warning, it would power down automatically.

Another feature that was typical for a robot was a GPS, in case the robot was stolen. Robots could also be shut down with voice, wireless, or radio commands. Robots, especially ones programmed with AI, were pricey investments, and thus needed safeguards so that humans could protect their property.

The GPS had already been disabled by Shademan before the robot was taken out of the amusement park it had been built for. However, the brightly-colored robot remained inactive, having powered down shortly after it went beyond the borders of the park. Not surprising, really, and the mad scientist was prepared for that.

He set the tablet down and leaned over the robot, lifting the panel off its back with little effort. A network of complex circuitry met his eyes, but it did not intimidate him the least as he examined it, making mental notes about what to upgrade or change.

That was one thing he'd always found fascinating about technology. It was ever-changing and improving, and he could learn and benefit from it. With each line, his robots became better and stronger, and with everything he learned, he could go back and upgrade some of his older Numbers to increase their efficiency or power., or in this case, take other people's robots and give them his modifications. Any robot could be improved on. Unfortunately, the same could be said about Megaman, but eh. Dr. Light and the blue robot were pushed out of his mind as he focused on his current task.

Wily lifted the helmet off the robot, revealing the circuitry located within its head. With deft hand movements that spoke of long experience in this particular process, the doctor hooked up wires to certain parts of the circuitry that made up the robot's mind and personality. This was a precaution he took every time he significantly modified or upgraded a Robot Master. Once the memory was backed up in his computer, he got to work, removing the GPS, the power override, and other devices that this 'bot's creators had installed to impede its freedom.

It took a bit of time to figure out what sort of weapon to give the robot. However, looking at the long, flexible arms of this robot gave him the idea to use their unique qualities to this robot's advantage. He did these robots a great service by maximizing their potential. Too bad the world could not see that. Such was the lot of a mad genius...

o0o0o0o

A Decade Ago, 200X

The first series of Robot Masters was already well underway. DLWN-003 through 005 were just about done, and 006-008 were all more than halfway through. Albert was rather proud of himself, but then who wouldn't be? He and Thomas had come a long way since their university days, and so had technology. When the first AI robot had been created by the two of them, it was very limited in its capabilities and most people did not see the use or benefit of their work. But then, look at the first automobile or the first computer. If people had thrown up their arms and not wished to work more on these inventions, then who knows where the world would be today?

“To a job well done, Albert," Thomas said as he raised his mug of coffee. Albert grinned and raised his own before he glanced at the television screen. Their work had brought them much recognition, and soon, would bring them an award. They had already won several for their work in the field of robotics, but the Technology Award was almost basically the Noble Prize of Science.

The head of the council, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, rose from his seat. He had won last year's award and had also replaced the former leader of the council when he retired.

“As history shows, man has been very creative in his use of technology, and seeking ways to advance it. We are very fortunate to live in a new century, and not just that, but a new millennium. Man has been able to utilize technology in the last century that would have been unthinkable in the entire course of human history.”

“Get on with it," Albert muttered before he took another swig of his coffee. He had disliked Dr. Cooper upon meeting him, finding the other scientist to be a blowhard at times. To receive his award from this man... feh.

“This year's Technology Award goes to someone who is known as the father of robotics.” Father? Albert frowned at that as Dr. Cooper continued, "And without him, robotics would probably still belong in the realm of science fiction. I am pleased to announce that this year, Thomas Light is the winner of the Technology Award!"

Albert and his partner stared at the television for several moments, waiting for Dr. Cooper to realize his mistake, or for someone else to correct him on his omission. There was a round of polite applause from the other members before Dr. Cooper announced that he would fly to Light Labs and present Light with the award himself.

“What the...!” He rose to his feet, glaring at the screen, his knuckles white as his mug slightly shook.

“Albert, I am sure it was an honest mistake, I will explain it to him. You deserve that award as much as I do, and we both know it.” Thomas put his hand on his partner's arm to calm him.

o0o0o0o

Now

The mad scientist wiped his brow after he adjusted the tightness of the coils that he had added to the robot's flexible arms. When he took robots created by someone else, he preferred to keep the external design changes to a minimum and work with the robot instead of against it. It had taken him some time to decide how to optimally weaponize the clown-themed robot, but studying the arms had given him a sudden burst of inspiration.

He had retrofitted the insides of the arms with flexible Tesla coils, enabling the production of electricity and the ability to use it as a weapon. His work on DWN-060 was almost complete. The previously installed safeguards and controls that enabled this robot's original creators or owners to control him had all been removed. His memory had been uploaded to the new brain and installed within the head cavity.

He sat back on his stool, basking in the glow of a job well done. He still enjoyed building his robots and challenging himself with new designs, like he was doing now for DWN-057, but there was a perverse sort of pleasure in stealing the robots of others and giving them freedom and his enhancements. Now, only if it were as easy to enhance the human body... He grinned to himself dryly as he stretched, feeling his old bones creak a bit as he did so.

o0o0o0o

(You)

You set the weapon down, running your finger lightly along one of its planes and looking at the three green blades, having followed Wily's blueprint and putting the pieces together. It was easy to get lost in the work, and doubtless, that was partly from starting a new job and doing something that was a challenge.

But oh, how your back aches from being hunched over the project. So you back away from the table, stretching out your arms and legs as you pace the large room, where several other tables sit with various projects including a new Robot Master. You wander over to it, slowly circling it as you study his work. Most of it is assembled already, though a casual observer would see several pieces missing or incomplete.

It's over seven feet tall and near it is a red facepiece with a long, pointed nose. Much of one arm was missing, and you blink when you realize the weapon you'd just been working on was intended to be part of that arm. So now, apparently, officially you helped to build a Wily Number? You lean in, finding the number that identifies it as DWN-057.

Well, now you’re curious to see your work in action. You smirk to yourself and startle when you turn around and see Shadow Man. You wonder if he’s ever startled Wily the same way.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the ninja-bot says as he bows his head.

“No harm done. Is there a problem?” you ask.

“Nothing at all. How goes your task?”

“Almost done. I just needed to stretch out.”

“Father is almost done with his work, and he says you can stop and clean up. Dinner will be in half an hour.”

“Oh, cool. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“I'm curious... you have free will, right? You're free to do as you want go where you please, unless I assume wrong.”

“No, you are correct.”

“You have your own... hobbies, interests, predilections? Did these come about on their own?”

“Yes. That is how it is for all of us. Father designs us with different tasks and occupations in mind, as you can see by our bodies, but as far as personalities go, we develop our own. Not all of us were created by him but are loyal to him.”

“Why do you serve Wily, then? You are a powerful robot and could do nearly anything you wanted.”

He looks at you curiously for a moment, thinking quietly for nearly a minute before speaking.

“Because we love him, and we believe in his cause. He wants to make robots equal to humans, not slaves. He wants to blur that line, the line between human and machine to the point where we can't be treated like objects. We have souls, we have feelings, others can't see that, can't hear it, or won't try to understand us.” he said quietly, his words baring a conviction more convincing than any human you’d heard in a long time.

“When I first met him, we talked about the possibility of robots having souls. This was right before the first line of Masters came out, mind you. Everyone around me, except for Albert and Thomas, of course, thought that a robot could never have a soul. People scoffed at the idea. But Mega Man came along and… A lot has happened since then.”

“That is true. We are loyal to him because he cares for us. If we get damaged, he takes the time to repair and upgrade us instead of discarding us. We are his sons, whether he built us himself or rescued us.”

It’s heartwarming to hear a robot speak so passionately, and you stare at him quietly. He takes your silence as skepticism and adds, “You can choose to believe me or not, but I am confident in the truth. Many condemn his actions, simply because they don't understand him or us. He stands against the world. And we stand with him.”

“I believe you,” you reply.

For lunch, there are deluxe sandwiches with a tasty ingredient you had almost forgotten the taste of. You haven’t had one of these since… Fuck, really, you ask yourself as you smell the tantalizing scent of the hot ingredients in the sandwich, finding yourself on a cruise down memory lane. Amazing what little details he remembers. You'd always figured he was much more focused on his work, like the stereotypical male who forgets the details while his partner is the one who remembers all the little things. But he'd remembered your favorite colors. And you two had talked about science fiction in the past, and he remembered the particular titles you mentioned as your favorites.

Wait, he’s not your partner. He’s your mentor and boss. You look at the table, where the sandwiches sit, waiting to be enjoyed.

“When was the last time you had one of these?” he asked, gesturing to the sandwiches. The smell envelops you in a pleasant memory.

“That would be when you informed me I was getting an A for the semester,” comes your reply.

He blinked. “Really?”

“I'd never had that type of sandwich until you made me one, either," you admit as you take one of the stools and sit down. You take a bite of your sandwich, letting the taste of well-seasoned ingredients explode in your mouth. Yeah, that's some good stuff. You remember when you'd shared this in his lab, it was your final semester and not long before Wily went rogue. Since you spent a fair amount of time in his lab, sometimes he provided you with food. One day, it'd been these sandwiches, ordered from some nearby local place. They'd been pretty damn good. He sits across the table from you and starts on his food, and the two of you munch away contentedly.

He’s not made any overt moves. Most talk is about either work or the hobbies you share. He’s been a gentleman, and you’re happy about that, but a bit let down. There’s an occasional teasing or snarky comment, and you wonder if you’re just being impatient, or oblivious, or something. You’ve dated a few times, but nothing ever panned out in the long run. What might dating Wily be like? Would that make things awkward, or would it turn out to be a meeting of both minds and bodies?

“So how was your day? I trust you had no problems in the lab.” you hear him say.

“Everything was just fine, thank you. I had all the things I needed and I'm almost done with DWN-057's arm.”

“Since you were able to identify who you were making the weapon for, I take it you looked at the rest of him. What did you think?”

“I am impressed," you admit, seeing the flicker of pleasure in his eyes at her admission. "You've come a long way since the DLWN Numbers. I'm almost jealous of you."

He sat back, a smug grin on his face. “Jealous? Why would that be?”

“You have your lab and army of robots to bring you all the materials you need. You're pretty much free to do as you please, you don't have the constraints that law-abiding scientists have to deal with."

He let out a pleased laugh at that. “Living on the wrong side of the law has its benefits.”

“As I can see.” You wave a hand to indicate your surroundings, “I know Dr. Light isn't too proud of what he had to do to get funding to build his lab.”

Wily nodded. Light Labs was a huge undertaking, and to get funding for that, Thomas Light and his partner had taken several contracts with the military. He had been compensated well for his work, but you and Wily knew that it weighed heavily on Light that his genius had been used in war machines. He tried to ease his conscience by building robots designed to help humanity, but that part of his past still haunted him.

“Sometimes you do what you have to. It was not pleasant for Thomas, but it benefited him in the long run," he replied.

You nod slowly. You could easily understand the time and effort it took to build Rock and his sister. What was harder to grasp – at least for the layman – was how much funds it took to not only build these two but the funds needed just for the research into AI and advanced robotics. Dr. Light had also grown attached to his first Robot Master, known initially as Blues before he became Proto Man.

“I guess you felt like you had to leave Light Labs and do...”

“I did," he replied in all seriousness.

“It was a pretty damned ballsy move.”

He grinned widely at that, wiggling his eyebrows. “You're right, it was. But dreams are not accomplished by the meek.”

“Ha. I suppose not.”

“What are your dreams?” he asked. You glance at him, and he continues. “You didn't study robotics just so you could build robots for other people. What do you hope to accomplish?”

You’re not sure. It’d be pretty cool to design your own Robot Master. Cybernetics was also another interest to you, as its current applications were relatively limited due to the barrier between machine and flesh. You have another idea milling around, but despite your time with Wily, you’re hesitant to share your idea with one of the world’s most wanted criminals. You regard him with a thoughtful frown.

“What if I gave you time and space for your research?" he asks. Your eyes widen as you struggle to control your reaction. He grins at you, knowing he has your interest.

“Come now. I'm giving you the chance to get to work on your dream. I can provide you with the materials you need. And you've seen for yourself that there's plenty of space. So if there's an idea rolling around in that pretty little head of yours, I don't doubt it's a good one."

Well. You’re not immune to a well-placed stroke of the ego, are you?

“I remember you talking back then about how nice it would be to be able to upgrade a human body like you could for a robot…" Back then, it was an impossible dream, but as robotics advanced and cybernetics had a few promising developments, it seemed more possible that in the future, the two might become integrated. Possibly cybernetic organs, or a whole new body. You saw how sophisticated robotics has become since its inception. Hell, look at how cell phones were back then, compared to the smartphones of today.

You’d made notes, run test programs, and the like but you’d never had the chance or space to test it out fully.

“You didn't spend all that time just working on other people's projects, did you?” you hear him ask. You quickly look back at him.

“How come you didn't ask me to work for you back then?” you ask.

“I was just starting out. I was new at the villain thing and I didn't want to get you in trouble or risk you being harmed," he said calmly. "I respect you too much for that, and, I'd be a shitty teacher and mentor if I let a student get hurt."

“Hmph.” You give him a brief nod to show you accept his answer.

“As you can see, I am very well-established. I know what I'm doing now, and I can keep you safe. And let you work on your research. Course, I would need to know what you wanted to do…”

“Well…” You lean back, crossing your arms, appraising him. Can you trust him?

“What is it?” he asked, interest all too obvious in his tone.

“I did get a lot of work done. But it's mainly notes and research along with designs. Without a lab of my own, I could only do so much in the way of a physical product."

“I assume you have enough notes and research to start work immediately.”

“I do."

“I would be disappointed if you didn't," he commented. You smirk back at him.

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me even though I haven't made a big name of myself like Mikhail Cossack or Noelle Lalinde."

“I saw your potential in college, and there's nothing wrong with avoiding the limelight. You get more done when you’re not prancing in front of the cameras or trying to be careful to not piss people off.”

You throw your head back and laugh at that before you sober up, thinking about your research and what Wily could do if he got his hands on it. It’s not weaponry, but could enhance existing weapons. You’ve seen the remains of the Stardroids he managed to salvage and wonder what you might learn if he allowed you to examine the alien technology. You grin, deciding to try a bit of a Wily maneuver.

“I’ll tell you about my project, but I want to examine the Stardroid parts you have,” you offer.

“Think you can make a deal with me?” he asks with a grin. You calmly nod. “I’ll take it, at least this once.” He extends his hand for a shake, and you don’t hesitate to grab it. His hands feel like what you’d expect – bony but muscular. It’s also pleasingly warm and dry, and a thrill passes through your body at the contact, because thus far, Wily has given you space.

As you expect, there is quite a bit to learn from the Stardroids, and you see a couple of practical possibilities emerging from the Stardroids’ unique abilities. And while you’re looking at them, he explains how he’d already used some of the technology to improve Shadow Man, giving him Saturn’s teleporting ability so that the ninja-bot was able to teleport you safely to Wily’s lab – something that wasn’t supposed to be possible for organic matter because of its difference from data (which was why advanced robots like Mega Man could teleport, but not humans or animals)

You've been wondering about that since you came here. "That's fucking genius," you say in response to that. He grins knowingly and you're pretty sure he's puffing out his chest a little.

It was still a huge drain on Shadow Man, so he had to use that ability sparingly, Wily explains. Still, that sort of feat shows you that others are possible, including your own.

“One must be prepared to adapt. I am always willing to learn more, and there is plenty to learn from the Stardroids." He sounded like he had in the old days when he was giving a lecture. You notice he's standing close to you. Not indecently so, but as a fellow scientist examining the same thing as you. You decide to test the waters a bit and move closer to him, your shoulders just touching. He does not move away. You stay where you are, and so does he when the two of you are looking at the part, examining it under magnifying lenses, and listening to the observations he'd made. He points your attention to something and you feel his hand on your back, touching lightly. You have to remember to breathe and keep your hand steady because holy fuck, your pulse has picked up so quickly that you're almost dizzy.

You didn't realize that being here, in close quarters to him, was causing tension to build up. He used to be your teacher and mentor, now he's your boss. You don't want to jeopardize this relationship, but fuck, he's such a silver fox, and at this point, you're 99.9 percent certain he has… something for you. After all, hadn’t he remembered these little details about you?

So you take a deep breath and relax, letting him keep his hand right where it is as you lean to get a better look at what he’s pointing out. You chat a little over it before you stand back up, and he pulls his hand away.

“So there you have it. You can have access to this lab anytime, but first…” He raises his eyebrows. You take a deep breath, wondering what he’ll think of it.

“You could call it a self-repair matrix, I suppose. You know how cybernetics as a technology is still limited because flesh and machine don't exactly mesh well." There are limited examples, to be sure. Cochlear implants, robotic hands, pacemakers, and the like. Technology has come a long way, but the bridge between flesh and robotics is still a ways off. "It's a healing system for a robot meant to stimulate what a human does to heal themselves. It's more for internal technology, but I don't see why it can't also apply externally, with enough time and development. And hopefully, that can also help with meshing with a human body more efficiently."

“I knew you had to be cooking up something good, and I am intrigued.” His smile is enthusiastic.

“The issue with the program is that it has to be customized for each robot. Kind of like DNA. Each Robot Master is unique, so the program would have to have its specs added to it before installation. Once installed, the robot would need less maintenance than before, and some of the damage could be repaired by the program. It also helps to preserve memories, should the brain itself become somehow damaged."

“I like it. I definitely like it.” He tugs his mustache thoughtfully as he stares at you, and you regard him with a modest but pleased smile.“You will need a Robot Master to test it on and make sure it works.”

“It does. At least, when I tested it.”

He raised his eyebrow. “How? On one of the robots you built for others?”

“No way! But I did test it on my computer and a discarded robot brain. They were successful, and I anticipate the same results for a robot of Master-level, but it would take longer to make one matrix since there's more data to integrate into it."

“I look forward to seeing you build it. Let me know what you need.”

Boom. Just like that, your employer has essentially offered you a blank check. You pause as you realize that some of your supplies are likely going to be stolen.

If there was a better real-life example of ‘making a deal with the devil’ than what you had just gotten into, you’d be hard-pressed to imagine it.

“You look worried, Y/n. Is something the matter?" he asks. You huff softly, looking down at the table with the Stardroid parts illuminated under lights and magnifying lenses. So far, you haven't mentioned anything about the legal ramifications. And you hadn't done anything illegal so far. You weren't stealing things, taking over locales and terrorizing the locals, or shaking down governments for money.

Nah, you were just working for a mad scientist who did do all of these things, and technically, you could be considered an accomplice for assisting in the construction of a Robot Master. Now, if you asked for it, he’d steal for you.

You place your hands on your hips as you study your boss (and object of your desire) and decide to be honest.

“We both know what's going on here is illegal. You do not need to fear me snitching on you. And I am grateful for this opportunity, believe me. It's… exciting, and thrilling. I'm having a ton of fun here." You see his eyes light up at that, and you continue, "But I can't help but wonder if I made a deal with the devil."

At that, his grin becomes devilish indeed. “Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven!”