#he also was the leader of a gang of children

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter III

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, the designated assholes be warming up now, yunho is trying his utmost best to confuse tf out of you.

chapter wc: 11.8k

chapter synopsis: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal and hongjoong makes the connection, finding out who your father is. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss what you know about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved other than secretary park. you save yunho from an attack which shifts your relationship with him. overwhelmed, you find yeosang at the crescent bar who hears you out and comforts you.

prev chapter recap: you learn more about the crescent’s past– as ateez, the gang, and their accomplishments in the war that earned them respect. while you get familiar with your job at the main office, you meet the young informant jaemin who refers to the boss as ‘the captain’. seonghwa continues to question your background but you only warn him to be careful making deals with secretary park. you finally meet the boss hongjoong who barely acknowledges you, and you complain about the recent events to san at the bar who assures you that your new bosses are just human if you look past their big, scary titles. convinced, you make a decision and warn the bosses directly to not make the deal with secretary park and reveal his connection with strictland. however, they have trouble taking your word for it and hongjoong reminds you that you are just a bookkeeper, though he instructs yunho and seonghwa to look into your connection with secretary park.

You had never dreaded a shift as much as you were dreading the night shift the day after Kim Hongjoong showed you your place by reminding you that you were just a bookkeeper. His words still rang in your head over and over, asserting that you were no one of importance. 

“You have a lot of audacity to come in here and make claims about a business you are not a part of, and people you don’t know enough about. Possessing such audacity is what almost cost you your life that night, and what is tempting me to retract the deal my partners made behind my back.”

Hongjoong had made it clear that he wanted you to stop interfering in their deals and it was honestly a surprise that the man didn’t shoot you in the head last night. He wasn’t known to be merciful, so you had probably used up a good bit of your luck considering how you weren’t fired from your job. If he was going to keep you still, he would definitely be digging into your past and you were preparing yourself to deal with the consequences of your actions. If they found out that you were Secretary Park’s daughter and told him about what you said… you would be in huge, huge trouble.

You should not have blindly trusted the Crescents. If they were just a mere business organisation, maybe they would have believed you but they were Ateez too– a gang who clawed their way up, fighting tooth and nail for a place in this world which they eventually and rightfully earned. Yeosang and San may have told you that the Crescents were good people at heart but Kihyun was also right– they were children of war, and they could fight their own battles. They did not need a mere bookkeeper with a shady past to help them out and save them from deals that could go wrong in the future.

In the midst of this hopelessness, the feelings of guilt over keeping state secrets to yourself were eating you up. You wished you could share those secrets with someone who actually cared for their land rather than wielding that secret like a threat to satisfy their selfish desires. What you carried with yourself was a burden too heavy for your shoulders and you didn’t know how long you could last before you would get crushed under it. Perhaps, what drove you mad was the fact that no one could be trusted. You had no idea who was involved in that sick scheme– it could be anyone. 

No one would take your word for it. You had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, hearing something that should have never passed anywhere near your ears. You saw your father engage in discussion with a man that you did not recognise, but what you heard was enough to make you lose your footing and trip on the ground with a loud thud, unable to function properly because of the gravity of those words.

Your father discovered you eavesdropping on him and that was when things took an ugly turn for you. If Kihyun hadn’t been present in another room, waiting for your father at that time, there would have been no one to stop the man from trying to wring the truth out of his own daughter in the most despicable, threatening manner. You would have met a fate much worse than him wiping your name off the family registers and sending you to Wonderland. 

You shivered involuntarily at the thought, glad you were alone in the office and no one had noticed you staring into the distance and picking on the skin near your nails. The words you had heard years ago replayed in your head, the memory as clear as day even after all this time, refusing to be forgotten.

“Halaland knew we had joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials so they did what they had to protect themselves.”

Strictland was a piece of land that had always been a part of Halaland, but had also always fought for independence. For a good few decades now, it had earned itself the status of an occupied nation under Halaland’s military control. It was always a sensitive matter, for Strictland was home to a nuclear base that had once been functional but long since shut down on the basis of the amended international peace laws that made sure that no country on this continent created or owned nuclear weapons. So why was there talk about Strictland’s nuclear operation officials going on if the base was supposed to be shut for a good thirty years now? And most importantly–

What exactly did Halaland do to protect itself? Was it the long, bloody war that lasted four years during President Son’s second presidential term, beginning from 1958? The war was triggered by bombing in Halaland near Strictland, and Halaland had accused Eden and sent forces soon after. The war came to a sudden end after President Son proposed the Treaty of the Eight Hills, ensuring peace. Post-treaty, things with Halaland were strained, sure, but nothing has been amiss so far. 

Strictland’s nuclear base could not be active and not cause a stir in the continent, so why did it seem like something was happening under wraps? Could the base be functional and be the reason why Halaland refused to grant Strictland the status of an independent nation? 

And just who was aware of this information? Your father was a secretary to Mr. Lee Jinwook who was just an assemblyman at that time. Today, he was the current president of Eden with your father still as his secretary. Was there a chance that President Lee knew what your father was up to? 

“Luna?”

You looked up to find Yunho, of all the people, standing not too far, leaning against the wall. His watchful gaze travelled from your zoned-out eyes to the marred skin on your thumb, taking notice of all the picking that you had been doing while thinking.

“Are you… alright?”

“Sorry, I’m alright, I was just… thinking,” you said, straightening and arranging your desk. “How can I help you, Mr. Jeong?”

Yunho frowned at your very formal tone, waiting for you to say something but you kept a straight face. “I just… saw you zoning out and called to make sure that you were alright.”

Oh. You licked your lips, looking at your thumb– yikes. “Thank you, Mr. Jeong. I was just taking a little breather. I will get back to work now.”

“That’s not why I–” Yunho began but paused when you picked up a page and started scribbling on it. You were ignoring him on purpose. You were being professional, he thought, probably a bit hurt by how Hongjoong had dealt with you last night. He had heard about it, but he wished he could tell you that they did take your words into consideration.

However, you would probably learn from Hongjoong and Seonghwa themselves after they would be back from their meeting with Secretary Park– which would be in about an hour. Yunho sighed deeply and went back to his room, shutting the door with a bit of an unintentional slam. He sagged into the chair, rubbing his face.

Maybe he should have told you that he called your name twice before you answered. He would have been on his way unnoticed by you but he caught you staring intently into the distance and thought something was wrong. 

He had just come back to the office after meeting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa and telling them about his meeting with Kihyun earlier in the morning, where he finally briefed him about the potential deal with Secretary Park as someone who would fund their project and approve the launch of their new drug in the pharmaworld. 

“That man is not a good choice, Yunho.” Kihyun said with an adamant shake after Yunho finished telling him the details.

“Why?” Yunho asked. “He is going to become the next Minister of Health. I can’t think of a better choice.”

“People are not all that they seem to be, as you must know by now,” Kihyun spun the pen between his fingers as he said. “Secretary Park… he treads a dangerous path. If you involve yourself with him now, he will take what you have to offer, wring you dry and abolish any remains of your business. As someone who has been acquainted with him in the past, can’t you take my word for it?”

Yunho believed Kihyun– he was one of his closest friends and his gang had helped Ateez become who they were today. So, he decided to ask something a bit personal instead.

“Jeon y/n… she warned us about Secretary Park. She said he is conspiring with Strictland officials to do something illegal and immoral. She offered better options like ex-president Mr. Son or Assemblyman Kim Jooheon.”

“You know,” Kihyun chuckled at that. “She has a knack for these things, she does. And what she has to offer to you is credible, if you can believe it. It’s only a shame that we’re close to retiring and aren’t as ambitious as you, otherwise we would have kept her all to ourselves.”

Somehow, Yunho felt both pride and jealousy to hear that. Pride that you were a part of the Crescents, and jealousy because Kihyun knew you better than he did.

“Who is she really, Kihyun? And why is she helping us?”

“Didn’t she tell you already?” Kihyun smiled in answer. “She only wants you to help her and when it’s time, she’ll use the power you have to take her revenge.”

Unfinished business. Yunho recalled what you had said that night when you made a deal with them for your life. 

“I’ll only ask this of you, Yunho,” Kihyun’s smile fell and he leaned forward. “A favour, if you want to call it that, but… don’t hurt her. Protect her. Use her if you have to– she has a lot to offer, and she is well-educated and sharp. She possesses information that could shake not only Eden but the entire continent. She can help you navigate through the dark waters of the underworld. You’ll only have to trust her a little and allow her to trust you back.”

Those words stuck with Yunho for the next hour until the boss and the underboss arrived back from the meeting with Secretary Park. The room filled with silence and palpable tension as Hongjoong and Seonghwa settled down on the sofas, each absently staring at the ceiling or the plant that was in dire need of watering.

“Well?” Yunho decided one minute was enough for them to sort their thoughts out. “Did you end up shaking hands with Secretary Park?”

“Of course not,” Hongjoong took a deep breath. “Not after what Kihyun had to say about our little bookkeeper.”

“Her name’s Luna,” Yunho scoffed at the term Hongjoong kept using to address you and Hongjoong grinned at Yunho’s immediate correction. “It’s just funny that you refuse to say her name when you literally address everyone by their surnames. You don’t even call her Jeon.”

“She’s not even a Jeon,” Seonghwa sighed. “I contacted the RV spies today– Wendy. She refuses to talk about her and told me to save my time and not look for her family. Do you know what that means?”

“That that is exactly what we need to find out?” Hongjoong quipped.

“That her family must be someone influential in Eden. Considering what she knows… she sounds like an insider. A citizen of Edenary, if I have to make a wild guess because no one from the eight sectors could have possessed so much information only to hide in the shadows.”

“Or that,” Hongjoong scoffed, agreeing with Seonghwa. “If she really is from Edenary, she would have either worked there long enough to know these things or… she has family there.”

“I can’t find any information on her– no one in Sector 1 knows her from before 1966, when she came back from Wonderland,” Seonghwa said. “And Secretary Park reacted strangely when we mentioned that we’re reluctant to make a deal with him because of his connection with foreigners.”

“How so?” Yunho asked.

“He wasn’t fazed at all. It was as if he saw it coming, which can only mean one thing…”

The heavy implications of what Seonghwa said filled the room as the three struggled to make sense of it. 

“Is there a chance Secretary Park didn’t react because he didn’t know what you were talking about?” Yunho asked cautiously, willing to entertain every possibility right now.

“No,” Hongjoong said, sure about this. “The look in his eyes wasn’t of surprise, it was more of an acceptance. That can only mean that he knew that there was a chance we would be aware of his dealing with Strictland. He can’t have gone and told every other person that he was involved with Strictland, right?”

“Which means he somehow knows that Luna is aware of this knowledge, or he personally knows her– isn’t Kihyun acquainted with Secretary Park? And he refuses to talk about her too?” Seonghwa asked.

Yunho nodded. “And you’re saying the RV spies refused to reveal her identity?”

“Then we have no choice but to ask her,” Hongjoong clapped his hands in conclusion. “Call her.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa straightened. “You made it pretty clear last night that she should just stick to her desk.”

“You know that was necessary,” Hongjoong folded his arms. “Things have changed now.”

Yunho got up slowly, footsteps heavy with thought. “I’ll call her inside, but can you both let me do the talking this time?”

While Hongjoong looked surprised, Seonghwa merely smiled knowingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve already taken a liking to her, Yunho.”

Yunho rolled his eyes in amusement before walking outside. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa in disbelief. “He didn’t deny it. What have you all been doing with her behind my back?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa chuckled. “But the boys seemed to have taken a liking for our bookkeeper.”

“And you?” Hongjoong cocked his head in curiosity but Seonghwa’s smile revealed nothing to him. Even after all these years, Hongjoong wondered how Seonghwa could hide his feelings from him when he wanted to. Even when he was the one who knew Seonghwa the best.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Seonghwa promised in a whisper.

You entered the room behind Yunho, preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen– for once, you have no idea what. Yunho had been pretty calm when he told you that the boss would like to see you, even waiting for you to follow him which you thought was a bit odd. You greeted the men with a ‘good evening’ and the boss motioned for you to sit next to Seonghwa. It was oddly relieving to have him by your side.

Hongjoong was about to say something but Yunho rested a hand on his thigh, making him pause and relax back instead. You noted the little exchange– it was strange to see the boss submit under someone who was third-in-command. Yunho looked at you, offering a small smile before starting.

“We did not sign the deal with Secretary Park. We only mentioned that we intended to keep our business out of the spotlight for now and it would not be beneficial for us to involve ourselves with someone who was dealing with foreigners.”

You exhaled deeply after hearing that– a bit in relief and a bit in grim acceptance. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“We also noted that he didn’t react when we told him our reasons. Secretary Park… you know him personally, don’t you?”

This time, you chose not to run your mouth, opting for silence. Yunho played with the silver button of his black form-fitting waistcoat, and you fixated your gaze over the silver ring that he wore on his index finger with infinity signs, a ring that all of Ateez wore. They seemed to have a lot of staple jewellery and accessories, like the gold pocket watch the boss had on him at all times, even tonight in his dark brown three-piece. 

“I met with Kihyun today, Luna,” Yunho continued and your eyes widened a little– whatever did Kihyun say? “He’s one of our mentors and I take his words seriously. He confirmed Secretary Park was not the man to make such a deal with, and he also said that you had a lot to offer.”

You stifled a smile at that. “What is this really about, Mr. Jeong?”

“Secretary Park… you’re acquainted or even related to him in some way, aren’t you?”

Your smile visibly fell which didn’t go unnoticed. This time, Seonghwa shifted closer, keeping a respectable distance from you as he said, “We’re willing to trust you and involve you in future business dealings if you’re willing to share some information that we should be aware of, before we make this deal with you.”

“I appreciate your kind offer, but I really am only a bookkeeper,” you said, an intentional jab towards the boss himself. 

Hongjoong poked his tongue inside his cheek, clearly amused at your challenge. Did you want him to beg? To say please?

“You are also a part of Crescent now, and that means you’re not just a bookkeeper, like Hongjoong might have said last night,” Yunho insisted. “We could find out what your relationship with Secretary Park is through other means but we decided to ask you instead.”

“Then use your other means,” you said with immense effort, tired of this little game. “I belong to the shadows and I will remain there.”

You got up to leave, straightening your maroon skirt. You only took a few steps when you heard the boss’ voice. 

“You don’t happen to be the illegitimate daughter of Secretary Park, eh? The one he liked to pretend was his niece instead?”

You didn’t simply stop in your tracks but every muscle in your body tensed. With dread creeping through your nerves, you turned to look at the boss, finding the others equally as surprised at his deduction. Hongjoong’s smirk widened and his eyes gleamed dangerously at the fear in your eyes. 

He got up, approaching you slowly. “I’ve been to his house only once, towards the end of the war. Year 1962. He was looking for workers and I was only a colonel at that time, yet to be honoured. I saw his family portrait– he has a son that looks just like him. And then I saw a glimpse of a girl who was looking for her father. Upon asking a servant if the man had other children, they let me know that she was his illegitimate daughter and he pretended that she was his niece.”

Hongjoong noted the way that you gulped and your eyes darted among the three men as if gauging their reactions and trying to find a way out. He continued. 

“They said it was understandable because other than the fact that illegitimate kids aren’t treated with respect around here, he was a striving politician and she would only hinder his career. I didn’t realise the little bird left its cage, though…”

“I– I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you tried but he shook his head.

“We’re going to find one way or another. It’s better if we just hear it from you so we can move on and address the more important matters… Luna.”

You looked at the boss– while he didn’t tower over you like Yunho did, he certainly was more intimidating. His gaze was sharper, his stance more confident and almost bordering on arrogance and his presence was consuming, almost luring.

You could not win.

“Alright, fine,” you gave in, walking back to your seat next to Seonghwa who looked thoroughly amused even though he tried not to appear so. “Yes. I am his daughter– illegitimate daughter. Don’t ask me who the mother is– I don’t know.”

Yunho sucked in his breath in disbelief. “Is that who you’re so scared of?”

“Not just him,” you shook your head. “There are other forces at play. He was just a pharmaceutical business owner at that time– he could not have dealt with Strictland on his own.”

Seonghwa agreed. “Is there anyone you suspect?”

“I don’t know. President Lee seems like the likelier suspect but he’s far too clean for that, which is a bit suspicious. It could be anyone from Eden Hall– another assemblyman or some existing minister or cabinet members. All I know is that what they’re doing is very dangerous. I know more, but I really need to confirm a few things before I can confide in you.”

“Well,” Hongjoong shifted his weight on one leg, thinking. “This certainly changes things. I still need to check a few things about you,” he looked pointedly at you, “but you can continue your bookkeeping duties for now. I’ll see what I’ll do with you later.” 

“If you feel like you should share a warning with us at any time, since you know exactly what deals we make on a daily business,” Seonghwa said, his tone unexpectedly warm, “you can let us know. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have asked for Kihyun’s opinion and proceeded with the deal and suffered damage. We owe you one.”

“That’s alright,” you said but he shook his head, insistent. “Can you just keep this a secret? As you must realise now, Secretary Park has gone to great lengths to hide my identity from the world. The fact that he even let me come back to Eden… he might be regretting it now. I can only warn you that he might try to attack me in the future which means someone else could get hurt too.”

“That’s unfortunate. Thank you for letting us know,” Hongjoong gave you a nod and you felt almost reassured. You looked at Yunho who was simply watching you with eyes full of curiosity.

“I’ll go back to the desk now and finish compiling today’s reports,” you said. 

“Great, you can leave them with Yunho later,” Seonghwa said. “I have somewhere to be with Hongjoong. Let’s go.”

You had half an hour to complete that report and you came back to that room, knocking before entering. Yunho was still where he sat before and you discussed the report with him before getting up to put it in the cupboard and preparing to go home.

You were putting on your coat and gathering your belongings when Yunho joined you at your desk, his own overcoat in hand. “Care for a stroll?”

You looked at him in surprise but nodded, following him downstairs– he must have a lot of questions. He locked the office behind him and greeted the guard, nudging you towards the main street. Since it was past midnight and this was a business street, it was pretty empty. The offices were shut with only the guards stationed outside trying to keep awake in the lonely hours, or keeping each other company over a little fire in the tub. 

You walked in silence for a few moments with only the sound of the cackling of fire and your footsteps accompanying you before he finally asked if you had ever felt targeted while working for the Crescents. 

“Up until now, no,” you told him. “But after my father wiped my name off the registers of Eden and gave me a new identity… sometimes it feels like I’m being watched. He wasn’t surprised to hear that you knew about his deal with Strictland, was he?”

“We never explicitly mentioned Strictland but yes, he wasn’t surprised in the least,” Yunho said. “He must have known that you are working here.”

“He probably knew about my job at the bar, at least,” you said. “He has always made sure that I never interacted with someone of power. It’s only a shame that Kihyun took me in and he could do nothing about it.”

“Do you have any suspicions about what he might be doing in Strictland?”

“I only ever heard a bit of it, and I’m not sure exactly what he was referring to, but this might be my chance to confirm if what I heard holds any value,” you said, pausing in the middle of the crossroads in front of the canal, looking around for any passersby but finding none. “Do you know about the nuclear base in Strictland?”

“Everyone knows about it,” Yunho said, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “It is suspected that Halaland wants to take over Strictland because they want to resume the operations at the nuclear base and become a nuclear power. That would violate the international arms law which is why they are resorting to playing dirty instead.”

“And the base has been inactive for a while, right?”

“For about thirty years now, yes,” Yunho confirmed.

“I have no idea how much truth this information holds, but I once heard my father talk about something regarding the nuclear base,” you whispered. “He said something about how Halaland knows that Eden has joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials. I don’t know who in Eden, but he also claimed whatever Halaland was doing– or would be doing– will be in order to protect itself.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in disbelief, his eyes boring into you. “That… that can’t be true.”

“Right?” you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking sideways to the canal. Its murky waters seemed to be reflecting your mood. “That should not be true, but… Mr. Kim said my father– Secretary Park did not react when you mentioned his dealings with foreigners. What other dealings might he have?”

“I hope something else, because if there’s even a slight chance that what you said is true,” Yunho grunted in discomfort. “I can’t imagine the consequences. Does he know that you are aware of this knowledge? Your father?”

“He knows I heard something,” you confirmed. “That’s when things started going downhill for me. He had always made it clear that once I was independent, he was going to change my surname and cut ties with me. But after that day, he just sped up the process, changed my surname to Jeon and sent me to Wonderland to an acquaintance of his.”

Just like that, you wanted to add, recalling how easy it was for the man that claimed to be your father.

“I don’t know if he did that so I would not speak about this or if he had some ounce of guilt for me,” you continued with a scoff, shaking your head. “But he kept tabs on me. He made sure I got a good education and once I was done, he allowed me to come back. I had to beg a little, but he let me come back on the condition that I stay low.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?” Yunho commented and you looked at him, a smirk creeping on your lips.

“Well, I always planned about how to get back at him. Just because he made a mistake doesn’t mean I get to suffer for it for the rest of my life.”

“That’s right,” Yunho stepped closer to you, facing the canal just like you. For a moment, you shared a comfortable silence, thinking about the implications of your admittance. Yunho cleared his throat as he looked at you. “You must be from Edenary then. Was it tough to adjust in Sector 1?”

Edenary was not just the capital of Eden– it was like a safe haven for the elite class of Eden where they did not have to encounter a common man. Everyone who lived in Edenary was someone who possessed at least one of the three things– wealth, power, or connections. Before the monarchy was abolished in Eden, the royalty resided in Edenary. Now it was home to government officials, politicians, business owners and influencers. 

Your heart twisted as you recalled your time in Edenary. Though you had lived in the shadows in Edenary too, there was a point in your life when your father had taken you around with him, introducing you as his niece but still letting you know the ins-and-outs of business in Eden. It was his dream that his child carry on in his footsteps, but his son and your half-brother, Park Sunghoon, had always been incompetent. You suspected he might let you take over his business instead but the fear of his tarnishing his reputation must have outweighed the fear of passing his legacy to someone who was useless. Sunghoon had always been far too short-tempered and reckless. Your father was not proud of him.

“Do you also dream of living in Edenary one day?” You asked, fiddling with your pearl ring.

“We dream of opening an office there, maybe a branch of the Crescent Bar if we’re lucky,” Yunho admitted. “But our home will always be in Sector 1.”

You smiled at that– his admission was unexpected. You outstretched your hand. “This ring is the only symbol of Edenary that I possess. A reminder that I may have found a place somewhere else but my roots remain in Edenary. I don’t miss the life I had, though. It wasn’t much.”

“It must have been better than this?” Yunho asked. You shook your head. 

“I’ve only ever felt at home here, in my little apartment that I share with a person who cares about me a lot,” you said. “At the Crescent Bar where I got more respect than I ever got in Edenary.”

“And at the office?” Yunho said and you looked at him, finding an amused look on his face.

“Not yet, and you know that,” you said. 

“That could change,” he suggested.

“Definitely,” you nodded. “But for that… you would have to make a little effort.”

“Well, I’m here now, with you, aren’t I?” Yunho said, cocking his head challengingly and you realised that this was his effort. “Tell me how to verify the information you just gave me tonight.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about it long and hard. I don’t think anyone who is not involved would know, so if you’re a fan of taking someone hostage and interrogating them…”

“We’re really trying to do things the right way, Luna,” he chuckled. “We’ve left that life behind.”

“Yunho, you shot ten men in two minutes just a few months ago, without hesitation,” you reminded him and his brows rose a little in surprise. You thought he was shocked to hear that you finally confronted him about it, but then you realised–

You had called him Yunho.

You were an absolute fool–

“I can do anything to protect the people I care about,” Yunho decided not to point out your informal use of his name, though he couldn’t complain– he had to admit that it was nice to hear his name from your lips. “But any other ideas?”

“Well… you can give someone else a tip and let them do the dirty work for you?” You suggested. “Now might be a nice opportunity to use Assemblyman General Wi. He has been trying to get dirt on President Lee because his term is almost over and he is pretty sure President Lee will be running for presidency again. If you give him a tip, he can verify all of this for you. Plus, if word gets out, Secretary Park will be in big trouble. It could confirm if President Lee is a part of this Strictland business or not, though it’s hard to believe that such a saint of a man could be.”

You often considered confronting President Lee about your father– if he really wasn’t aware of your father’s dealing with Strictland, he was probably the only person who could make things right once and for all. Lee Jinwook had always been in the political scene but he only stepped up as a presidential candidate after his wife, President Han Hyojoo, was assassinated three years into her term. She had ruled Eden right after the Treaty of the Eight Hills when President Son’s term ended, and the way she strengthened Eden’s defence and helped rebuild the land was an admirable feat but also earned her enemies. 

President Lee always had a clean and morally upright image and though his succession was quick and easy, he continued his wife’s legacy and boosted Eden’s morale. He was a good president and Eden was flourishing in his reign just as it had in his wife’s reign. Days after his wife was assassinated, he laid the foundations of a hospital in his late wife’s memory. You recalled reading an article about it– that was in 1963, right after you came back from Wonderland. In his interview, he said that his wife had always dreamed about making a hospital in Eden that would focus on maternity services and advancements ever since they lost their child a couple of months after birth, and that it was a shame she couldn’t live long enough to see the hospital functioning. 

It was thoughtful how he was fulfilling his late wife’s dreams even after her death. Such a man couldn’t be capable of such sinister actions, could he?

“If President Lee is a part of this, he could end up having your father killed to protect himself,” Yunho said and you sucked in a breath. “That’s how these people operate. Are you sure you want that? And even before that, Secretary Park would try to get at you for leaking that information. Your life could be in danger too.”

“It already is,” you shrugged. “An anonymous tip to General Wi– he’s a military man and Strictland is under military control. It would make sense that General Wi stumbled upon this information himself.”

Yunho hummed in agreement. “Shall I walk you home?”

Your heart did a little flip at his offer and that had you wondering… just how much should you involve yourself with the Crescents? 

“Thank you for the offer… Mr. Jeong,” you said and Yunho noted the formality in your tone, “but I would rather walk myself home. Goodnight, and… thank you for tonight.”

Yunho considered insisting but he knew it would be too much for you, for now. Though he liked spending time in your company and wished to find out more about you or simply talk with you, this was not the time, and you had made your stance clear– he was only Mr. Jeong of Crescent to you, as he should be, but…

Did he wish to be more?

“Goodnight, and… I’m only carrying out my duty,” he said, confirming the distance between the two of you. “If you ever feel like you’re under threat or need some assistance, you can let us know. You are a part of our company and it is our obligation to protect you.”

Well. What a way to put it, you thought. With another thanks, you separated your paths for the remainder of the night.

Over the next few days, things at work became just a bit less overwhelming and you found yourself almost adapting to the new routine. Eunha and Jihoon noticed that you were competent and efficient and even Jihoon complimented you over handling a task that he was having a tough time with. 

Every day after the midday slot, Eunha and you would go for lunch in one of the nearby cafes. Eunha told you that she used to have lunch with Jihoon almost everyday but with the shift in schedules, they couldn’t eat lunch together anymore and she admitted that surprisingly, she missed that. You asked what exactly did she miss about having lunch with Jihoon and got your answer later that day when he finally joined the two of you– a first for you. You were having sandwiches for lunch and while you both chattered about trivial stuff, he complained about the weather, the cucumbers in his sandwich, his milkshake being too bland and you knew then.

It was his way of contributing to the conversation, and the fact that he had joined you for lunch was enough. You told him that you hoped he would join you both often from now on and he just shrugged awkwardly though you caught him smiling to himself afterwards. He also made a point to scold you both for wasting too much time deciding on a spot and you both just retorted with a crude gesture (Eunha) and assigning him with the responsibility of picking lunch spots moving forwards (you).

It was just another day in the month of May with the shift of seasons bringing about rain and prompting you to dress up warmly. The weather in this part of the continent didn’t change much throughout the year, remaining a sticky cold in the summers with the rain and freezing towards the end of the year. You started to keep an umbrella on you and switched to boots and warm gloves, though you kept your net gloves in your purse in case you needed to wear them to a formal meeting. Just like the change in the colour saturation of Eden and its hues, your ensembles shifted to darker, moodier tones. The only constant would always be the pearl ring from home, often the only glimmer on you. 

You reached ten minutes before 6pm and Eunha, just like every other day, sighed happily at the sight of you. Really, the sigh came out of sheer relief that she could go home now. With a kiss blown in your direction, she hurried off, her light pink hair very much like cotton candy as they fluffed up with every happy skip she made down the stairs.

You shook your head in amusement at her fading figure and straightened your back before assessing the reports and the latest updates. When the boss had called off the deal with Secretary Park just a few days ago, rumours of it went around town and some called it ‘a rejection to the president himself’ since it was known that a secretary basically did all of the president’s work. Others admired the fact that the Crescents didn’t bend to the secretary’s will like everyone else did, without knowing the context. 

While it infuriated you how people were so quick to make something out of nothing– nothing that they knew about– you also noticed how the Crescents started getting more offers for collaboration by different businessmen and government officials. Yunho provided you with a list of people that they were considering for their new project. No one was aware of what exactly was the Crescent’s new project and you were almost still in the dark too– nothing confirmed and nothing denied. You told yourself that you did not need to ask just what this project was about and you could let them know your opinion anyway, but your achilles heel had always been your curiosity and your adventurous spark, a deadly combination. You would do just about anything to silence the buzzing in your brain.

About two hours passed when you heard light footsteps and the familiar scrawny figure of the young informant entered your vision. You set your pen down, a satisfied exhale leaving your mouth at the way your joints cracked when you stretched.

“Is the Captain inside?”

“Good evening to you too, kid,” you shook your head. “Yes, he’s inside.”

Jaemin smirked and you made a face at him. “Nice hair today.”

“Really?” You blinked in surprise. “I wear it like this every day though?”

The question was directed more to yourself. Jaemin went towards the boss’ room and knocked, entering a moment later. You dug the compact mirror out of your purse and checked your hair–

And sure enough, a tuft of hair was sticking out near your temple on the right side. You groaned loudly, fixing it and groaned even louder when you realised why Hongjoong had looked at you for a moment longer than usual when he greeted you today, and why he had a little smile on his face when he went to his room.

Damn it.

You waited for Jaemin to come out and you called him over. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, madame,” he bowed dramatically.

“Why do you call Mr. Kim the Captain?”

“Well… he is the boss, the leader, so captain is just another word to address him, right?” he grinned. “I like the sound of it.”

“Fair enough,” you said. “How did you become an informant?”

“Your question of the day has been used up. Adios!” Jaemin saluted mockingly and ran away before you could call his name or chuck something at him– you just sat there watching with your hand awkwardly stretched in the air as if you could have grabbed him from across the desk.

Menace.

You went back to focusing on the monthly budget report that you had been studying, trying to spot any discrepancies. This time, you were in charge of presenting the monthly report to the boss and you wanted to make sure everything looked okay, especially with their new deal. Whoever was in charge of handling the tracking of their money was doing a pretty damn good job. On the surface, the Crescents were exchanging Black Shadow with the latest machine parts– the produce from Pledis Manufacturers which was a cover for the actual export that was the weapons– with Utopia. 

Black Shadow was a very strong red wine, a staple of Utopia, the land known for its wineries and extensive collection of all sorts of wines. While the Crescents were still a gang, they became acquainted with some of the winemakers, got mentored and secured a deal so that their business began with the Crescent Bar. Now the Crescent Bar was the only spot in all of Eden where this fine wine was available. You thought that was an admirable feat– it must not have been easy to convince the Utopians to export their wine. You supposed Utopia must really be in dire need of weapons as well to share their best wine with Eden.

On the sidelines, though, Black Shadow and other liquor was being smuggled to Mist Island in exchange for raw metal that was required in the production of those machine parts and weapons by Pledis. Simply sending wine in exchange for metal did not cover the discrepancy in costs, so you made a mental note to bring this to light in the meeting later this week. It had gone unnoticed the past few months but from your experience from the time in Wonderland when you had a part time job at a bank, you knew that someone was bound to raise suspicions of where the Crescents were spending all that money. 

You did not realise how much time passed when you heard Yunho’s office door open and you looked at him, finding him wearing his overcoat. There was still an hour until your shift would be over so Yunho must have some engagement. He approached you and asked if you were done compiling the report.

“Yeah, I was just wrapping up. Do you want me to put it in your office later?”

Yunho pursed his lips in thought. “Actually, you know what? If you’re done for tonight, you can leave as well. No point staying until midnight. Seonghwa won’t be here tonight either.”

“Oh, well, sure,” you tried not to show how happy you were to leave early. “Let me put this away before you lock your room then.”

Yunho nodded and waited for you and when you came back, you found him with your coat in his hands and he offered to help you wear it. You stood still.

“Mr. Jeong. I can wear my coat on my own.”

“I know,” he shrugged, not letting go of it. “Are you going to keep me waiting though?”

You looked at him pointedly before giving in,  going to grab your purse before he would try to do that for you too. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

Yunho scoffed, outstretching his arm. “After you.”

In the past few days, Yunho’s behaviour towards you had been nothing short of odd. Sometimes, he was the Mr. Jeong that you had always known– unapproachable, reserved and a man of few but meaningful words.

And the other times, well… you weren’t sure if this was just how he had always been, but it was strange to experience it firsthand. He was considerate, just like tonight. He would make sure you’d had dinner. He would ask if you were faring well when you would go to discuss the reports with him. He would make a casual remark or even a joke if he felt like it. Overall, you were sure that he knew the difference between being professional and casual very well–

And boy, was he tiptoeing right at the borderline. 

He held the door for you and you told him the guard would have done it anyway but he only smiled. And then he mockingly saluted because you had made it a point of calling him ‘lieutenant’ whenever you needed to get a point across. That made you laugh a little and you said goodnight, going in opposite directions.

You were only a few steps down your road when you thought you could just walk with him and discuss the details about the Mist Island finances that had been nagging you all this time. You turned, speed-walking towards him in the dark street and were about to call his name when you stopped in your tracks.

There was a man who had slipped right behind him from an alley and you were half sure Yunho hadn’t noticed his presence. The man was walking quite awkwardly, tense and fidgeting, almost–

Almost as if he was about to attack Yunho.

And sure enough, you saw his hand resting right above his hip where he would be hiding a gun under his jacket. 

With all your senses heightening, you willed yourself to remain calm and think– if you screamed, it would probably end badly. You could go back and alert the guard or find someone, anyone, but it might be too late–

And then you remembered that you had a gun in your purse.

You switched to the street on your right, rushing through the alleys as silently as you could, gun in hand and a scream lodged in your throat that threatened to escape at any second. You spotted Yunho whenever the alley opened into the street and every time, relief and urgency clashed. With pure adrenaline fueling you, you waited for Yunho to turn right at the crossroads– if he turned left, you would have to step in and you hoped that would not be the case. 

As soon as Yunho turned right, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the alley, a surprised exhale exiting his mouth. You rushed to hide, finding a spot to squeeze into which was covered by abandoned boards that would hopefully help conceal your figures. You aimed the gun at the street, hoping to get a visual of the man, the sounds of your breaths and Yunho’s gun being loaded feeling too loud. He tried lowering your gun, intending to take care of the situation but you shook your head, gently pushing him aside despite the lack of space, as if you could cover him.

“I need to see if it is someone I recognise,” you whispered. “And you really don’t need to kill tonight.”

“I rarely ever kill, y/n,” he said, “Only immobilise.”

You didn’t respond, and if you hadn’t been worrying about your lives, maybe you would have noticed that he called you by your name instead of Luna. Your gaze remained focused on the street, aiming to identify the man.

“Is that someone you recognise?”

“Never seen him before,” Yunho bent down a little into the light to get a clearer vision. “Might just be a thug.”

You remained in your position with your gun aimed at the confused man who looked around warily before tracing his steps back. However, you kept the gun trained where you last spotted him and it wasn’t until Yunho put a hand over yours and gently lowered it that you let out the breath that you had been holding.

You made the mistake of looking at him, the realisation that you both were okay crashing on you like a fierce, cold wave. You took a shaky breath, resting your back against the wall and gripping the edge of a box nearby to hold yourself steady. Yunho looked quite alright, casually resting his back against the wall in front of you. You realised how narrow the alley was because his knees brushed against your legs.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… catching my breath,” you whispered. “Does this happen often?”

“Not that often– not like this, at least,” Yunho looked for any signs of the man in the street. “Usually it’s a gang targeting us, not an individual.”

You nodded, thinking about the attack that night at the bar. This was different. Had this man intended to shoot Yunho or just take him hostage?

“I’ll go do a quick scan of the area and see if there are more men–”

You grabbed his arm as he tried to exit the alley and pulled him back to his original spot. Yunho shook his head. “I need to check if there are more men, and if anyone else was hurt–”

“No,” you insisted, tightening the grip on his arm. “It’s dangerous.”

“You’re telling that to me?” Yunho asked, reminding you that he was an honoured lieutenant colonel and knew how to deal with situations like these, but you weren’t having any of it. You shook your head adamantly. 

“We will leave together, after a few minutes.”

And then, with a crashing realisation, Yunho understood that you were not just scared for yourself. You were scared for him too. 

He didn’t know why but your words, spoken and unspoken, wrapped around his heart like an embrace. With a shaky sigh of his own, he resigned to his previous position, though this time he stood just a little closer to you. He noticed how you were still holding the gun while your hand trembled– you had obviously never actually used it. 

“You’re a fool,” Yunho said in a low voice. “You should not have come after me. I could have dealt with that on my own. I would have gotten answers out of him–”

“He meant to shoot you, Yunho,” you said, and this time you called his name on purpose. “I did what I had to.”

“You could have gotten hurt, Luna,” Yunho leaned forward to be at your eye level. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

“I have a gun–”

“A gun you’ve clearly never used before, at least not on a real person,” Yunho reproached, grabbing your shaky hand to prove his point. “Would you have used it tonight? If things went wrong?”

You didn’t answer that, too focused on the way his hand intertwined with yours and even with the weapon preventing full contact, you felt the comfort of his touch seep through your skin and slowly, but surely, calm your nerves. 

“Shall I teach you how to use a gun some day?” Yunho’s low voice almost reverberated in your skull and you looked at him in shock, finding him a bit too close– you could see the excited glimmer in his pupils. 

“I can protect myself without using a gun too,” you managed to say, wincing inside at the weak retort. You clearly couldn’t. 

“But you can protect me too if you know how to use a gun,” Yunho said teasingly, a smirk creeping on his lips. You rolled your eyes briefly but he wasn’t backing away and neither did you want him to. His fingers caressing the skin on your hand was something you didn’t want to stop anytime soon.

“I’m pretty sure you can take good care of yourself, Lieutenant,” you challenged. “You definitely had it under control tonight.”

Yunho laughed then, a bit embarrassed because he clearly had not noticed anything amiss and if it weren’t for you, it might have gone very wrong. You laughed along because wow. You made Jeong Yunho laugh for the first time. The sound of his sweet, shy chuckle went straight to your brain, making you dizzy for a hot second. You broke out of your trance, pushing him away with immense effort. He took it as teasing, thankfully, not knowing that you wanted to do anything but put distance between you two at that moment. 

God, you thought. You needed a drink.

Yunho squeezed your hand once before letting it go, perhaps realising how casual he just had been. This time, you let him survey the area you were already sure was clear. He came back and signalled for you to come outside, walking with you back to the path you should have been on in the first place.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You asked. “You left early tonight.”

“Just home,” Yunho said. “The maknaes were going to drop by.”

You hummed– he must mean the warehouse boys– Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho. You often caught them at the Crescent Bar when you worked there, and it was always very lively when they dropped by. Wooyoung, in particular, always added life to the bar.

“You can be on your way then. I’ll walk home–”

“No chance,” he shook his head. “I’m walking you home tonight, whether you like it or not.”

You knew you had no choice and surrendered. It wasn’t a long walk so you decided to tell him about how you had spotted some discrepancies in their finances and wanted to discuss them with the boss. He told you to run over them with Seonghwa first before Hongjoong and you agreed.

“This is me,” you told him when you reached Regulus Street, pointing at your apartment. “I would invite you in for a drink or something, but I have a roommate and I’m not sure if she would like it...”

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll accept the gesture,” Yunho placed his hand over his heart, taking a few steps backward while maintaining eye contact. You watched him with a smile creeping on your lips– he was unexpectedly goofy at times.

“Goodnight then?” You laughed, unsure what he was doing.

“Thank you, Luna,” he finally said and you scoffed. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me two,” you told him. “You owe me one for stopping the deal with Secretary Park too.”

“Ah, is that so?” He raised a brow. “How would you like me to pay you back?”

Maybe he hadn’t meant it like that, but the implications of those words sent a wave of warmth coursing throughout your body. It didn’t help that he was smirking, probably understanding why you were rendered speechless.

“Well…” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “We’ll burn that bridge when we have to cross it.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight, Luna.”

Something had changed indefinitely between you and Yunho.

Perhaps, you wondered, it would still have come to this even if you hadn’t shared those moments a few nights ago. You would like to believe that. You were not complaining about the change– it wasn’t much. He was just more friendlier and casual towards you now, but…

It was as if he wanted to see you break. 

You appreciated the change in his manners, yes. He wasn’t cold towards you anymore, even when he maintained a professional stance. It kind of reminded you of Seonghwa– he had always been kind and gentle towards you and something about him had always been comforting, even when he had put death on the table between you two. It was a dangerous trait, you supposed. It was Seonghwa’s weapon, but–

Gentleness seemed to be Yunho’s gift. If someone cared to look past his rough edges and mannerism, they would be rewarded with a nature so gentle that it would make them wonder how such contrasting traits could coexist within the same person. 

And it wasn’t the gentleness that was killing you, no. Such was a trait that every man should possess. 

It was the way he wielded it to rile you up– there was no other explanation. You kept placing walls between the two of you even with the change and he kept scaling them effortlessly with just a casual brush of his fingers against yours, an assuring or encouraging touch on your shoulder, or even–

God, even the way he tucked your hair behind your ears the other day when you had come back from the storage with a big pile of files in your arms, the front strands of your hair having escaped the hold of the pins. And the first thing Yunho thought to do was not to take some obvious weight off your shoulders but to tuck your hair behind your ears with his brows furrowed in concentration, those damned big brown eyes almost unrecognisable in that moment. 

Perhaps, he didn’t even realise he had done that. 

And you wished you could ask him if that was true. 

“Luna?” Seonghwa’s voice called and you found him peeking out of Yunho’s room. “You can come in to brief me now.”

“Alright,” you said, the report already in your hands as you got up. You straightened your clothes before you entered the room, taking a seat in front of him and opening the files to show him the numbers. You briefed him about what you had done so far before getting to the point. 

“The net cash exchange between the wine and the metal is 74.27 percent, which includes all the expenses including necessary licences and fragile care. 25.73 percent of the amount is completely unaccounted for– we’re paying Mist Island but on papers and bank statements, it’s not exactly clear what this amount of money is being used for. For personal purposes, maybe, but one day they’re going to notice it and make a big deal out of it. It’s better if we have a cover for this too. No matter how small the amount is.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seonghwa took a deep breath, resigning back on the sofa. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you thought about it. “We’ll have to manipulate a few documents if we want to adjust this amount in pre-existing channels. That, or have something to prove the money has been put to use– like donations or artwork.”

“Hmm, sounds like a good idea. I’ll discuss it with Hongjoong and get back on that, yeah?”

The door opened and Yunho entered, having come back from one of his meetings. You nodded at Seonghwa, saying you would wait for a heads-up before drafting the monthly report. 

And at that moment, Yunho, who had been standing behind your sofa and looking at the documents on the table, decided to not disturb your conversation with Seonghwa and take the matters into his own hands, resting a hand on your upper back for support as he leaned forward to take the file from the table. 

Your breath hitched and you were glad you had just finished a sentence– he was too close, and you were reminded once again that you were only reacting to such casual actions because this was Jeong Yunho. 

And you wanted to kill him a little when he stayed there and asked if this was the report you had mentioned to him. You nodded and only then did he back away to go sit at his desk. You looked at Seonghwa whose expressions betrayed nothing. 

“Well then, I’ll be on my way,” you told him and he nodded, praising you with the usual ‘good job’ and watching you fumble with the folders before you left the room. Seonghwa chuckled to himself and turned his gaze to the consigliere.

“Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho,” he called, making Yunho drop the file on the table to look at him.

“Why are you suddenly calling my rank?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, thoroughly amused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Luna,” Seonghwa said, running a hand through his long hair. “I’m not blind, Yunho.”

“Yeah, but you’re an idiot,” Yunho went back to looking at his file.

“You haven’t shown interest like that in quite a while. Is it wrong to be curious?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well,” Yunho looked at his hyung. “She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” Seonghwa repeated but in a different context. “I’ll be damned.”

“Don’t you like her, just a little bit, too?” Yunho asked, smirking. “You’ve never taken someone this seriously, like, ever.”

“I have to take her seriously when she talks like she already belongs here,” Seonghwa said. “And you know what? I think she could be more than just our little bookkeeper.”

Yunho noted the term Seonghwa had used though he decided not to comment on it yet. “What do you plan to do? Are you really going to involve her in the full business?”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly, already having planned out details that none of the others might have considered.

That night, you found yourself outside the Crescent Bar again. You stood thinking for a few moments before you entered, making your way towards the office that had once been your little safe haven– an escape from the boisterous outside world. You knocked at the door but no one answered. You pushed the door just a fraction, finding it unlocked which meant Yeosang must be around. You decided to just make yourself at home, damned be the consequences, and went inside to sit on the couch and curl in on yourself.

There was too much going on. There was too much you were feeling, and you had no one to share these thoughts with. You weren’t even sure if you should be sharing these thoughts. You were an anomaly, you always had been–

The door opened and you were met with a deadly silence instead of a greeting. You looked up to see Yeosang clutching his chest.

“Shit, I thought I was seeing things. You scared me, Luna,” he said, shutting the door and sitting on his chair. “What’s up with you?”

“I missed you too,” you laughed. “How have you been?”

“As good as ever, I suppose. Better now that you’re not nagging me on a daily basis. Thriving, as some might say–”

You chucked a cushion at him which he caught and rested on his lap. “What are you really doing here?”

“Am I not welcome here?”

“Of course you are, this will always be your office,” Yeosang said, making you smile. “But I’d rather know what’s up so I can order an appropriate drink.”

“Bring me your strongest.”

“On it,” he grinned, going out to get the drink himself, returning with two glasses. Amused, you watched him pop the cork dramatically and fill the glasses a little more than average, swirling the wine just enough before he handed you one. 

“It’s an honour,” you said, truly meaning it. “You’ve never served me like this. You’ve only ever served the boys.”

“I’ve heard rumours that you act too much like a Crescent yourself,” he said, sipping his drink and sitting on the desk. “You’ve got guns and big reports up your sleeves now.”

“Yikes,” you downed the drink and Yeosang filled your glass again. “Am I not supposed to? Not that I’m trying to be one of you.”

“Sounds insulting for some reason,” he commented. “But good words only, Luna. I’ve only heard good things about you. Makes me wonder what kind of a boss I was to not realise your potential.”

“You did. I became your bookkeeper. I was also your best employee for two months straight, wasn’t I?” 

“And then you told me I was clumsy and I put you on my blacklist,” Yeosang huffed. 

“You broke your most expensive tray. I wanted to kill you,” you almost cried as you recalled that chaotic night at the bar a few months ago. “That tray was the prettiest one we had.”

“And you’re already drunk,” Yeosang chuckled at the way you ran your mouth so freely– perhaps, it was also because you were no longer boss and employee. “Now tell me… why did you come here?”

“Why do you all want me to say everything out loud?” You groaned in frustration. “I wanted to be here, obviously. You know this office was like my safe haven. I always come here when I am overwhelmed.”

“And what’s got you so overwhelmed, love?” Yeosang asked gently and your heart fluttered at the change in his tone.

“You,” you muttered, surprising him. “And Mr. Jeong. And Mr. Park. And your boss but I tend to avoid him so I won’t complain yet. And San!”

“San?” Yeosang laughed. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, I’m just dragging him into this,” you rested your head on your knees, hugging them to your chest. “It’s just… you’re all confusing me and I don’t like it. I don’t like being in unexpected situations.”

Yeosang hummed in thought. He knew what was up with you and Seonghwa, and you and Yunho. The boys– none of them hid anything from anyone. They had always been bare with each other, so he knew that Yunho was a little into you even though he never said it. Yeosang wasn’t oblivious to the way Yunho’s eyes lit up or the way his attention shifted any time someone mentioned you. 

Yeosang also wasn’t oblivious to how much you occupied Seonghwa’s headspace even though he pretended to be unfazed. He could tell that Seonghwa was bordering on the lines between admiration and adoration for you. 

And while Hongjoong himself hadn’t expressed any personal feelings about you, he knew that once you would properly interact with him, you would find yourself charmed by him too– Hongjoong was like that. And San… he had seen you that night opening up to San and watched fondly from the distance.

But it kind of blew him a little that he was the source of your confusion too. Perhaps, it was because you had worked with him so long. You were friends, that was for sure. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. But why were you overwhelmed because of him? It wasn’t the proximity– you two had shared a lot of time in this office in the past. A lack of proximity then? Did you actually, truly miss him? Did the distance really make you fonder of each other?

With caution, he settled down in front of you and took your glass from your hands. “That is enough drinking.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, not looking at him. 

“Just say what’s on your mind, Luna,” Yeosang said, turning his full attention to you. “You know I’ve never judged you and never will.”

You smiled at that. Even with the lack of explanations you gave for your actions or your behaviour, Yeosang always tried to understand you, and that was what you liked about him. Sometimes, you couldn’t quite believe that he had ever been anything else other than a bar manager. How could this man have gone to the war at such a young age and intercepted multiple messages, saving countless lives? How could he be a part of the gang that had a repute like none other?

“It’s hard to put it into words,” you sighed deeply. “And I don’t even know what I would say anyway. Nothing makes sense, yet everything does. Now that I don’t have to hide who I am from you… it’s like I’m living a new life all over again.”

“Yet you’re still the same old Luna that we all adore.”

“So you adore me then?”

“Did hearing that make you feel better?” Yeosang shook his head and you grinned. “I’ve always adored you, Luna, in my own ways. Does that help?”

“I thought you hated– okay, not hated, but… only tolerated me. Maximum liked me a little. But you’re saying you adore me.”

“I do,” he pinched your nose. “Especially when you’re tipsy.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, uncurling and sitting properly, still facing him. “Can I ask you something… strange? You can blame it on me being tipsy later.”

“Go ahead,” Yeosang grabbed the glasses and filled them again, handing you yours. “Let’s blame tonight on being drunk.”

“Hmm, I knew coming here tonight was a good idea,” you downed the drink in one go, setting the glass aside and looking at your former boss. “Have you ever liked someone? Like really, really like someone?”

“I have,” Yeosang said and your brows rose momentarily in surprise.

“How do you know you don’t like them like you would just another person?” You asked. “Is there something I’m supposed to feel?”

“Let’s test that out,” Yeosang said in such a low voice that you almost missed it. He leaned forward a bit more than he should have, twirling a few strands of your hair between his fingers. You got a good look at that heartbreakingly gorgeous face– it was a crime to be this beautiful and stay inside the bar almost all the time, you often thought. Your breath hitched when Yeosang’s finger traced the vein along your neck and then he locked eyes with you.

“Who is it that you like so much, y/n?”

“That’s the thing,” you whispered, kneeling into his touch when his hand went to cup your face. “I don’t know.”

Yeosang smiled knowingly though, his eyes travelling all over your face, stopping at your parted lips a few times– he was too obvious. Your heart was beating frantically and for once, you did not know what to do. You may have come here because of another man (or two) but now you were almost in the arms of someone else entirely. His other hand was holding yours– when did that happen? And bringing you closer. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his warm breath on your cheek before he kissed it lightly. You drew back, a bit surprised but wanting more. 

“You can sort your thoughts out when you’re sober,” Yeosang said. “You should rest, for now. It must have been a long day.”

Before he could draw his hand away, you scooted closer and he chuckled when you rested your head against his shoulder. “It’s because I’m tired.”

“Whatever you say, Luna,” he patted your arm. “It’s certainly not because you miss me.”

“Certainly not,” you confirmed, the both of you laughing at the obvious lie. “And definitely not because I may like you a little too much.”

“Oh,” Yeosang pulled you closer in the half embrace. “Definitely not.”

next chapter

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[ambriel-angstwitch]

Tim: Girlboss... Gatekeep... what's the one

I'm missing?

Duke: There isn't one

Tim: But I thought there was

Duke: No you made it up

[spocks-husband]

Mainly because when he started adopting kids he just sort of figured 'this is just what you do with children' since it's how he was raised and then felt weird not doing it with the rest after Dick and Jason, all the Batkids have random super obnoxious rich kid skills that Bruce either taught them or sent them to classes for. Obviously they all know how to fence, that's pretty common knowledge-- but they're all also fluent in French and Latin (plus varying degrees of Arabic and Ancient Greek), very well familiar with dining and event etiquette for any possible situation (mostly by Alfred's doing), well versed in classical literature and mythology, capable with at least one instrument (piano for most of them-- though Dick plays the flute!), and quite comfortable writing in cursive to the point where for almost all of them it's their natural handwriting, just like Bruce.

This usually isn't an issue... Except for that time when, early in his crimelord career, Jason sent a threatening note reading--

I will find you 🩷✨

--to a gang leader in his territory, which... Didn't have its intended effect. He used magazine cutouts to write his threatening notes from then on.

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Fenton Crime Family 2

-Batcave-

The batmobile enters the cave with a resounding boom. When it stops, Nightwing, Batman, Robin and Red Robin jump out of the car with Batman going to the batcomputer to make a report. The rest go to change their suit when the elevator bell sounded. Out comes Alfred with a tray of tea and snacks.

Alfred: Returning early today, Master Bruce?

Bruce: *Grunts* Someone has already captured all the rogues before we reach them.

Red Robin: And Oracle can't find any footage of the person in question. All she got is blurry and fuzzy images and the next moment, the rogue has already been tied up. The only thing we know is that the rogues that got beaten up all are around The Bowery.

A revved of a motorcycle enters the Batcave and Red Hood enters with Black Bat and Spoiler following from behind. Red Hood gets off his bike and sits on one of the sofas while taking a plate of cookies from the tray.

Red Hood: I think I know the guy you are talking about.

Red Robin: You know?

Red Hood: Yeah. There is a new gang in The Bowery. They call themselves the Undead. Their MO is completely different from any other gang in Gotham.

Red Robin: So our guy is part of this gang?

Red Hood: Worse. The guy is possibly the leader of the gang.

Red Robin: What?

Red Hood: You say any video of the guy is corrupted in someway right?

Red Robin: Yeah. The image is blurry and the audio is unusable.

Red Hood: Yeah. That's the same thing that happens to all the spying devices I use on them. No recording devices can directly record the leader specifically but from what I know, the leader is supposed to be a child.

Batman: A child?

Red Hood: Yeah. And no. She will not get adopted by you. Apparently, she has a personal vendetta against rich people.

Nightwing: Welp. There goes my new sister.

Robin: I would appreciate it if father put more restraint on his adoption problem.

Batman: *Grunts*

Red Robin: What else do we know about the girl?

Red Hood: Not much actually. Most of the people around her are children around Damian's age so we can assume she is also around that age.

Red Robin: What about her gang?

Red Hood: Remember how I say their MO is completely different from anyone else? Yeah, that's because they don't seem to work like a gang.

Batman: Explain.

Red Hood: They don't partake in any illegal activity at all except for some sketchy gold selling that doesn't have any source. Even those golds are sold at a very high price because they are old gold. Apparently, the collectors are going crazy for them.

Red Robin: Then how do they obtain money?

Red Hood: Using their money as capital, they bought buildings and shops and made their gang members work there. Hell if not for the fact that I know it's a gang, I would have mistaken them as a company.

Red Robin: Anything else?

Red Hood: The leader also has a brother and an unknown sister. Both are older with only the brother ever showing up. White hair, green eyes and around Timmy's and Cass's height.

Black Bat: *Frown*

Spoiler: Wassup BB? Got any news?

Black Bat: I meet the brother.

Red Robin: What? Where?

Black Bat: On a rooftop. He says he is on the lookout for rogues.

Nightwing: You are not hurt right? He didn't attack you?

Black Bat: No. Not hostile.

Red Hood: I thought so. My underlings also say that The Undead is quite friendly. They wouldn't actively hunt other gangs unless provoked first.

Batman: Find out more about them. All of you go to bed. I will finish the report.

Red Hood: Well I guess that's my cue to go. See you never old man.

Red Hood then gets on his motorcycle and exits the cave. The others also move and return to the manor. The others realize that Cass is unusually absent minded the whole time they are going to bed. Cass is usually quiet but her eyes also show that she is not focusing on her surroundings.

She lays on her bed after showering thinking heavily on today's event. The guy that she meets on the rooftop seems so familiar to her. She just doesn't know who.

-The Bowery-

Ellie is not having a good day. First, Danny and Jazz are pressuring her to go to school at breakfast. She says she doesn't like school and their response is how can she not like it when she never experienced it herself. To that response, she has seen how Danny struggles with class and she is pretty sure he is not having fun.

Then there is that new gang that suddenly rises up. It's one thing to make a new gang. But then they have the audacity to send people to kidnap Danny. Sure, Danny is strong enough to raze Gotham to the ground if he wants to. But it's the principle that counts. She is going to punt their group to the ground for doing something like that.

And then there is this Arkham breakout. Why can't all these guys just stay in Arkham anyway? It's not like there is much for them to do outside. After she beats up Condiment King (Ellie swears she is going to kill this guy for covering her in mustard) and Professor Pyg, she gets the news that Danny has already beat up all the rogues near The Bowery.

On the bright side though, she met this cute guy named Damian. He has a little temper but not something she hasn't dealt with before. She is apparently some rich guy's son but she really can't see the similarities in their mannerism from what she sees in this Brucie Wayne guy. After talking for a bit they promised to go out on a date at a zoo. His dad sponsors it and apparently there is a new animal in the exhibition.

After all things are settled she goes back home to have dinner with her family. After teasing Danny a little bit about his date, she goes to bed excited for the date.

Part 3

[thehumanwiki]

hi and welcome to

✨bullshit that has ACTUALLY happened somewhere in the Pokémon franchise✨

-a teenaged boy runs away from home because of his abusive mom only to join a crime gang funded by his abusive mom.

-the player character is given a smartphone by and with direct contact to God.

-a man cosplaying God (the same God you got a phone from) attacks you with a demon banished to another dimension.

-a suicide cult led by an evil snowflake kills like one hundred other protagonists.

-there is an entire elemental typing consisting of abused and evil Pokémon that is super effective against everything else.

-the player falls into an alternate world and one of their friends is immediately arrested for playing sports.

-in the thrilling sequel, a bunch of ghosts kidnap children in their amusement park in the Shadow Realm.

-now that I think about it there are like three different games where the player character starts by falling from the sky.

-the protagonist of the TV adaptation has died like seven times, been crucified in Paris, watched several apocalypses, and has watched SO many people die in front of him, and I don’t think he’s brought it up like, ever.

-in one game, you can go on a crusade to brutally conquer the entire continent.

-the player of one game is part of a time loop caused by a magic turtle that indirectly kills one of their friend’s mother. Or father. Depends on the version.

-the player’s adoptive father is possessed by the personification of hate and sends them directly to Hell, then tries to do it again when they get out.

-the mafia’s plan for getting their boss back after he left is to violently hijack a radio station and ask really nicely.

-a space agency’s plan for stopping a meteor form colliding with the earth is to open a wormhole to another dimension. this plan is stopped by a woman in a torn cape who destroys their equipment and robs them.

-the protagonist’s father had a godlike clone fuse his consciousness with a mouse, and fights a man who fused his own consciousness with an alien.

-the one a cult leader chose to be king of his new religion is an abused autistic boy with green hair and wearing a baseball cap.

-you literally rob people’s Pokémon in one game and you’re still the good guy. …is there a gender neutral version of “good guy?”

And now for a BONUS ROUND!

✨shit that has gone down in the Pokémon manga adaptation alone!✨

-terrorists blow up an ENTIRE port city!

-one protagonist spent two years trapped in a Dream Realm™.

-you think that’s bad? TWO protagonists are trapped in the depths of space for like six months!

-you think THAT’S bad?! FIVE protagonists are turned into stone for an indefinite time period!

-a little orphan girl is hypnotized and trapped in a suit of armor.

-they crucify the gym leaders???

-one boy is whipped in the face with a chain used to subjugate the Gods Of Time And Space and he’s literally fine.

-a father punches his son in the face and hurls him down a staircase. The American translation censors this as a lightning strike.

-this same son fell into the ocean because of an earthquake like five chapters after he was introduced.

-one of the current protagonists is basically Wednesday Addams.

-two protagonists were kidnapped by birds and raised by a supervillain.

-two villains try to destroy the environment of an entire country, cause an apocalypse, and are stopped by being trapped in a flying car which crashes.

-a mysterious supervillain saves them— SOMEHOW— and makes them fight to the death for a suit of armor. The one that survives causes the apocalypse AGAIN but dies.

-they both get brought back from Hell to save the world, and after that’s over, they turn to dust and go back to Hell.

-the supervillain who saved them the first time also summons like ten gods and dips out, never to be seen again.

In other words Pokémon is weird (affectionate).

[sunderwight]

Liushen AU where SY transmigrates into SJ's older brother, and subsequently nopes them right out of the slavery backstory by using his general knowledge of the story and actually being an adult in a kid's body to just leave (basically) with SJ and YQ.

SY carts them both up to Cang Qiong for the next sect trials. It's actually not all that hard, the trickiest part is getting enough to eat and finding safe places to sleep between leaving the slavers and taking the trials (SY manages just barely, with considerable help from his new little brothers.) Nobody bothers to go after them because it's before Qiu Jianluo and this style of human traffickers mostly operate by virtue of their merchandise having nowhere else to go. Chasing down runaways is an expense not worth indulging, given that most of them either come straight back or die of exposure.

Anyway, they take the trials, and as expected YQY gets chosen to become a personal disciple for the sect leader, and SJ gets chosen by the Qing Jing Peak Lord, but also as (kind of) expected (by SY alone) nobody wants SY. He's older the Yue Qi, so too old, and unlike YQ and SJ his cultivation potential isn't striking enough to make any exceptions for him.

SY, however, can't leave it at that. He's spent more than five minutes with the street kid codependency gang, so he's gotten attached to both of them. And he knows what will happen if they're left to their own devices and The Plot proceeds accordingly. (Also, they keep threatening to not stay at the sect if SY doesn't stay too, for some reason.) So with a heavy heart and internal candle lit for himself, SY heads to Bai Zhan Peak. Which is the only peak that accepts disciples by way of them turning up and refusing to leave.

SY's not much of a fighter. He actually really hates the atmosphere on BZP, he's not bad at physical cultivation (his health's pretty good in this life, ironic considering how much worse his situation was) but the random ambushes and survival-of-the-fittest stuff is just not his brand. But that's okay, because it turns out that BZP actually DESPERATELY needs disciples on the actual peak who are interested in things other than fighting and cultivating their own strength. Stuff like, filling out requisition requests for An Ding every time things break, apologizing to An Ding every time things break again, organizing schedules, browbeating senior disciples into actually teaching, educating disciples on virtually any artistic or social skill, hosting lectures on how to beat vicious beasts without just overpowering them, and etc.

Okay so some of this stuff isn't and has never actually been on Bai Zhan's curriculum but Shen Yuan is going to make this place tolerable. And stop these children from needlessly getting acid burns or lyme disease or scurvy or whatever. He keeps internally chewing out Airplane for designing a sect system that means there are a lot of largely unsupervised 12-year-olds running around the wilderness on a mountain picking fights all the time. (When he actually meets Shang Qinghua and figures him out he switches to doing it in person, of course, in twice-monthly bitching sessions that look a lot like budding friendship.)

Of course one of the worst offenders is the Liu kid, who SY would suspect was actually raised by wolves if he didn't know for a fact that Liu Qingge has a younger sister, and also the kinds of nice clothing and letters from home that strongly imply not only does he have a family, but that the family is pretty well-off. Liu Qingge is at first deeply offended by SY being a BZP disciple. He rarely fights anyone, and uses tricks and evasion tactics whenever a fight can't be avoided. And he does other annoying stuff, like pestering him about meals and baths and lecturing him on identifying dangerous plants and the early signs of qi deviation. This is not what their peak is about! He should get with the program already! Just fight stuff until you're too tired to keep fighting stuff!

Also SY's younger brother, SJ, is pure evil (at least according to baby Liu Qingge) even though his other younger brother (?) is cool and nice.

Anyway, Liu Qingge stops complaining about SY after their first mission together, where Liu Qingge doesn't lose a fight but does get into a kind of pyrrhic victory situation where he's really badly hurt, and it's SY who helps him win (correctly identifying the monster and then pointing out its weakness) and takes care of him afterwards and gets him safely back to Cang Qiong. SY expresses surprise at LQG actually being polite to him, and LQG realizes that he's been a colossal ass if people think he wouldn't be grateful to someone who saved his life, so the usual Liushen dynamic proceeds from there. Liu Qingge starts bringing SY fans he leaves behind and hunts down animals that are supposed to be useful for bolstering weak cultivation, SY invites LQG to tea and keeps the critters as pets, etc etc.

SY doesn't get the Head Disciple position, because that's only acquired via beating the current peak lord in combat and lol no. Also he's not interested in stealing it from Liu Qingge, to whom it rightfully belongs (in his mind). But that's fine, because Liu Qingge takes the position when the next generation ascends and then he lets SY exclusively handle all the peak duties SY actually likes (mainly teaching). It's perfect -- Liu Qingge gets to focus on his War God antics and occasional administration/meetings without having to deal with students his has no patience for, but the disciples of BZP don't get neglected because SY is actually teaching and organizing classes and student care. BZP hasn't enjoyed a golden age like this since it was founded!

Things are pretty good overall, but Shen Yuan knows that it's only a matter of time before The Plot shows up, and so he can't rest completely easily.

Meanwhile, the will-they-or-won't-they bets on Liushen have been going strong for a while now. The thing is, most of their martial siblings are convinced that these two are already "together", and just being circumspect about it. Those who know SY well (like SJ, YQY, and SQH) know better but think that SY's romantic obtuseness is to blame, whereas those who know LQG well (LMY, WQW, and MQF) are pretty sure that it's actually LQG's obtuseness that's the problem. Of course it's actually both of them, so efforts to "fix" matters by getting through one of their thick skulls inevitably run afoul of the other's.

An additional complication is of course: SJ doesn't like LQG (mutual), and now that he's the leader of his own peak, he wants to poach SY to come and live there. Not only so he can have one of the 2 people he trusts actually close at hand, but also because SJ also hates actually teaching the atrocious little brats on his peak, and would like to have SY come and do it for him. YQY is still a total pushover for him too, and is also now the sect leader, so YQY agrees that SY can change peaks if SY and LQG both agree to it.

Liu Qingge, of course, is a no, but he's a variable "no". He's not going to hold Shen Yuan against his will or anything.

As for Shen Yuan, it's... complicated. He doesn't really like BZP, but it's gotten a lot better than it was at the start. These days he's actually pretty proud of his accomplishments, and it's more comfortable, but it's still a rough and rowdy place with fewer creature comforts, libraries, or other appealing points than QJP. Also, if he goes to Qing Jing to teach, he can personally ensure that SJ doesn't go around persecuting any of his students!

But... SJ never lived with the Qiu family in this AU, and even though SY's not totally clear on what the PIDW backstory for SJ was, he knows he's a better guy now than the scum villain in the book was. He has a reputation for making cutting remarks, not for being an abusive snake or a lecher. SY's honestly less worried about him doing anything bad at all, and there are other people on QJP who can teach. It might even be good for SJ to promote more people to fill out a social circle he can rely on! That guy needs more friends, seriously.

And QJP really doesn't need more layabout literary intellectual types who get into pointless arguments, which is all SY would be if he went there. Just yet another nerdy scholar for the rich kids with middling cultivation that the peak favors to ignore. At least on BZP he's filling a gap.

SY is clearly torn, and the fact that SY's considering it has LQG upset, and LQG doesn't handle being upset very well, so of course they have an argument about it. SY storms off to cool his head and LQG is like, this is it, he's gone to Qing Jing Peak, I've drive him off by being too aggressive and he's probably remembering all those times I told him he didn't belong here and oh no what have I done maybe if I build him a heated bath and get him books he will come back???

Turns out that SY just went to An Ding to vent at SQH while SQH was like "I think you would have fewer problems if you and Liu Qingge just got married and my disciples could call you Shigu to your face instead of behind your back" and SY threw melon seeds at him and sulked on his fainting couch (which is always cold for some reason...)

Thus begins the Liushen Divorce Arc where SY tries to be anywhere but BZP or QJP, Liu Qingge tries to figure out what thing he can punch to fix this not-punchable problem, SJ is like "I don't see what the big deal is they should break up Liu Qingge is awful and I want my brother to teach my classes for me" like the spoiled youngest sibling he's finally allowed to be, YQY is trying to moderate this Hades vs Demeter situation and is all "well maybe SY could spend half the year on QJP and half on BZP?", and Liu Mingyan is going "I know my brother if this doesn't work out he is going to die single and pining like an idiot" and so keeps conscripting other disciples to y'know, lock SY and LQG into storage closets together (ineffective: LQG can punch through walls) or at least get them in the same room (underestimating SY's willingness to yeet himself out of windows to avoid awkward social interactions.)

By the time Luo Binghe joins the sect (as a Qiong Ding disciple), the drama is in full swing and is the main topic of gossip across most of the peaks.

[drizzledrawings]

Do you have a full master post of like your cowgirls lore, how they met, their backgrounds and situations they got in ect. I absolutely am obsessed with them.

Why thank you so so much

I’ve talked so much about them on here, but it’s scattered, and quite a lot of it has evolved lore wise

So let’s make this that master post:

Basic lore for this universe:

Set in a non specific time of the Wild West (implied to be the tail end of the era)

But with a magical twist. The folklore of things that are not quite human living alongside humanity is real, and they are hunted for their skin. It is a known fact that shapeshifters exist, and they are illegal. Though some peoples “magic blood” don’t always show itself as Shapeshifting, it can also appear as accelerated healing or acute senses. These people are generally referred to as beasts or animals

These transformations are hard on “beasts,” they take up a lot of strength to preform them, and if you’re injured in one form, it can take time before you’re able to switch. If you’re injured enough it can be permanent.

Brunette: Flora Guerra

She was born to an Italian immigrant family with strict parents, as well as the youngest daughter to five other children. When she was 16, her parents arranged a courtship with a much older man. Flora was furious, this rage culminated in her first transformation, unfortunately this happened in front of the man as well as the rest of her family. They immediately turned their backs on her, disgusted with what she was. Terrified, she fled. She hopped on trains and resorted to petty theft to make her way west, to a land she hoped would be freer than the life she left behind!

Her first big brush with the law was when she stole her horse Bandit from a man who was treating him poorly. She fled the scene but only after shooting one officer. (Thus her first ever bounty was for murder)

Her main way of making money was seducing men and robbing them blind while they were distracted by her beauty, unfortunately she picked up the wrong trick one day, a notorious gang leader, who instead of shooting her outright, brought a then 17 year old Flora back to his gang. She became “his girl” and used her looks to help him get what he wanted.

In the gang, however, there was one man (Henry) who was like her! He could turn into a wolf, like how she could turn into a jackalope, they formed a bond, and when the gang fell apart, he was the one to get her out safely.

Ginger: Mattie (Matilda) Hayes

Mattie is the eldest daughter of her odd family. Her father and mother immigrated from Ireland, her mother dying during childbirth of her youngest child, Ben. Because of this, Mattie became the sole caretaker of him, very much raising him herself. The entire family were beasts of some sort.

Mattie could turn into a fox from a young age. Her brother also started to transform around the same time. (Though he was a cougar)

Their father, was also odd, in more ways than just beastly. He was a sour old man with a mean streak, drink had a mighty hold on him. After an incident that broke the camels back, involving hateful words and a smashed beer bottle, Mattie had enough. In a fit of rage she set fire to her father’s barn, in the aftermath She packed her bags and set to leave. She tried to get Ben to come, but he refused and told her to never come back. So she listened.

At 18, her and her horse June travelled the desert, finding odd jobs, pulling off some robberies, and failing at pickpocketing, this left her with quite a price on her head.

After a couple years of travelling by herself, the way she preferred, she ran into Flora for the first time.

First meeting:

They met as their animals first, Mattie was trying to hunt Flora but got startled by her horns.

Later on, she was trying to rob a man on the side of the road. Only for Flora to swoop in at the last moment and get the trick instead. (By “saving” the man, but picking his wallet a moment later)

That night, Mattie was nursing her hurt ego by drinking her weight at a saloon, but alas she couldn’t even enjoy her whiskey in peace, when the woman who stole her prize sat down at the bar with her.

Pissed off Mattie tried to storm away but bumped into an angry drunk, this turned into a full on bar fight. Which Flora dragged her away from and offered to patch up her wounds

They stuck together after that. But didn’t become lovers till much later

Flora fell first, but Mattie fell harder.

JESUS this is long I’m sorry

Anyways main plot:

Word gets to Mattie that her father is dead, and her younger brother has resorted to a life crime. He is being set to hang once he’s caught. She sets out to find him.

Flora’s old gang has picked up on her location, and they are hunting her down. Scared for Mattie’s safety, she works with her Henry to figure out how to keep them off their trail.

Everything seems to be going okay, Mattie finds Ben, and together her and Flora help him get away from the noose, they look after him and bring them to their camp. They thought they were evading the hunters as well as the gang.

The two of them have also been found out to be beasts by the law, so on top of being wanted because of their crimes, they are also being stalked by beast hunters.

What they didn’t know was that Ben still held a grudge for Mattie leaving. He blames her for their father’s ultimate death.

He agreed to a deal with the hunters, his freedom for their heads. Because of his grudge, he went the extra step by involving Flora's old gang.

The hunters and the gang ambush them, Ben leading the way.

Flora gets injured during the fight in her human form. Ben nearly kills her.

The siblings go head to head in their beastly forms, and against all odds, the fox beats the lion, killing the last remaining member of her family. (In the end, Ben was in too deep. There was no way he was getting out of this alive, so he let her kill him)

Flora, incredibly injured, can not transform, and for reasons unknown to Mattie, she can not switch back.

Years pass, Flora has a limp that doesn’t go away. She is never able to be her animal again. And Mattie, well, she didn’t get too injured that day, though it seems like something broke inside because she lost her human form.

They move north together and live a peaceful life, even though it’s not quite normal. What with Mattie being a fox and all that.

A decade or so after everything, they’ve been out of the life for a long time, is when Mattie finally finds herself again. Though she’s very different to what she used to be, her human form had changed, more fox like and more wild, though still her. She can only take that form for bits at a time, but it’s something. They’re happy

If you read all of this… damn thank you!!

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

[mooncalf87]

so I have been writing the ghosts for about two years now and I have actually gotten a good handful of people asking how I write each ghost so well SO I'm going to break each character down simply here!!!!

Thor: Thors first language isn't English, so its okay to make is dialog a little silly just like in the show. He's a big tough man but he also has a huge soft spot make sure to incorporate that if need be

Sass: Sass is the youngest main gang ghost- he died at 25. He is not a wise old elder, he is closer to being a kid then any other of the main ghosts. He is still learning new things every day and is still stuck in his nearly fully developed mind, remember that!!

Isaac: he's smart! He may seem silly and goober like at times- AND HE IS- but he is also very smart. He want to Dartmouth, he was an attorney!!! He knows what he's talking about!!! He is also from the 1700s so he doesn't really use words like "gonna" or "yeah" or modern slang as much as the other ghosts do

Hetty: Despite being the character i write the most, I think Hetty is the hardest to write. She has arguably had the most character development out of any ghost- ranging from her marriage, to her children, and even her death- Hetty is constantly changing and growing very visibly with the show. Apply that to her in writing! And just like Isaac she uses old-timey words and no slang. She also doesn't like vowels

Alberta: Alberta is from the roaring twentys. The years where everyone was throwing out the old and bringing in the new! Alberta is a party girl, she's outgoing and self obsessed (which is not necessarily a bad thing) but she also cares about her other ghosts, more then I think any of us can tell. She also moves a lot, her body language represents a lot of what she is thinking and saying- same for Hetty

Flower: Flower died high, but she is still a person. I've seen lots of people, including myself, dehumanize her and treat her as some sort of puppy. She is, sometimes, like a silly little kid- but she is also a fully grown woman who can do things for herself!! Flower got into law school, she is incredibly smart!!!!!

Pete: Pete is a father. He is a parent and a protector, he is constantly guiding his troop and his family! He is the second oldest of all the ghosts and has always been the troop leader, he is constantly in the background of everything and he ALMOST NEVER chooses sides. But he isn't just a wet towel, we've seen him literally bitch punch Thor!! He is also a HUGE hand talker and is always shifting from foot to foot

Trevor: he is a bitch but he is also very incredibly smart, just like Flower. He worked on Wall Street, he went to Pen. He is much smarter then we give him credit for! He usually has his hands clasped infront of him like Pete, but he is also a hand talker! He cares a lot about everyone, especially the younger ghosts + hetty

NOW remember these are just what I make sure to apply to them while writing!!!! Remember to find your own writing style and character projections :3 you can find my ghosts fics on Ao3 under Mooncalf87!!!!

[endearing-dalliance]

Just like Piltover, Arcane's beauty hides its fundamental problems. Its ableist, antisemetic, acephobic, classist, and worst of all, it doesn't initially seem that way.

Firstly, I want to say that this post and my problem with all of this is due to the real-life references, biases, and viewpoints of the team people who created the show, made the design decisions, wrote the scripts, and continue to defend what many have pointed out are genuine problems in their stories and characters. This nothing to do with the VAs, individual animators, supporting crew, or even the characters themselves. I'm genuinely heartbroken for all those people who proudly worked on the show, did their parts beautifully, supported the viewers, and are met with a fanbase disappointed, hurt, and angry about something completely out of their control.

I wrote up a different post about Piltover vs Zaun in the original lore and how that version is such a different situation than we we got.

Despite everything they did to make the Arcane undercity/Zaun this horrible place, they keep referencing the positives of LoL Zaun (an equal and respected society) and attributing them to Arcane Zaun. All of this is straight from the AoA:

"When you look closely, Piltover and Zaun are not entirely dissimilar" (y'all literally designed them as polar opposites)

Zaun is a refuge for outcasts who don't have a home, and there is the thrilling sense that anything is possible. So pretty much the exact opposite of what Vi was trying to show Cait?

In Piltover everything is heavily regulated; Zaun is wild and more pure meritocracy. "its is not completely lawless, though there are some issues with the mob." That's certainly one way to put it.

Zaunites "make magic out of nothing. nothing is precious, everything can be recycled and be reworked to make it better" I'm sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that people can't afford to replace things when they break. Nope. Completely plausible reasoning. No real life parallel at all.

One example of innovation is a jeweler from Zaun who makes unique gothic work. Not only did they never showed us this side of the undercity, I maintain NOBODY in Piltover is putting on a gas mask to go jewelry shopping in a slum.

"Even though they were oppressed, they can innovate in ways Topside can't. Like well let's take this freedom we have because they don't care about us, and use it to find beauty and innovation. That's where Ekko's little conclave came in." Did they forget the literal orphans he rescued from those "shady streets"? What were they free from, their parents? Cause Piltover's enforcers seem to kill a lot of those despite "not caring". This is straight from Ekko's LoL lore where he spent his days being a kid running around with the Lost Children and inventing for fun. Arcane Ekko got Misfit Toys as an intro song. The Firelights were called a gang. These are not happy, healthy kids enjoying their world. They're vigilantes taking care of other kids who have nobody else.

"Ekko emerged as one of the unlikely heroes of the show, rising to meet tough, sometimes heartwrenching challenges, and becoming a charismatic and beloved leader" His LoL lore is that of a self-educated genius described as "The Hero of Zaun's Youth". Beloved pretty firmly established already. Also charismatic...are we really not past the point where its not supposed to be a shock that a black guy can be articulate?

Sevika's arm is specifically described as "flamboyant", which was the same word used to describe Piltover's augments

This gave me the vibe that they were trying to glorify or romanticize Zaunites' suffering and environment, but on further reflection I think that's giving them way too much credit. Christian's reply below makes it pretty clear he doesn't understand his own story, and Alex's indicates they weren't even trying to tell it and are surprised by this interpretation. Because to them, the Zaunites were the bad guys all along.

(Cool cool name one team member who has personal experience with living in under an oppressive ruling class that is either ignores their suffering or actively worsens it. I'll wait.)

Also, I think its very telling that a cocreator admits to having difficulty distinguishing between a group of systemically abused people fighting for their right to live on their own terms and people breaking the law because want power and influence and money. I don't think Peaky Blinders and the French and American Revolution (among others) are really compatible stories.

"It was an impossible pipe dream if you ask me." Well then. All the nations that successfully rose up and freed themselves from their oppressive overlords were just flukes I guess. Also I'm not sure how they managed to figure out the alien invasion lack of relatability and not realize that's basically what they ended up with. Also, the fact that they keep framing it as a civil war rather than a revolutionary one is mindbogglingly out of touch.

So they were trying to comment on the two party system, but also the point wasn't to comment on the real world. They wanted to show the widening wealth gap in a "fun way", but also that's not what they were shooting for. Over and over we've heard about how the show is about duality, the struggle of Jinx and Vi and the struggle of the two cities. If they didn't want to comment on the real world, didn't know enough about politics to even realize what they were doing or what message they sent, DON'T MAKE A $250 MILLION STORY ABOUT IT. Thanks to their contributions, we now have a story about two girls brutally traumatized by their environment enveloped in a pro-oppressor, forgive your abusers theme. Well I aint forgiving any of this.

I get the idea of "show, not tell", but some things do need to be explicitly told. Oppression is objectively wrong no matter who the oppressed are should not be left up to interpretation. Its not the viewers' job to piece together that Zaun's problems are ultimately caused by Piltover, especially since what they are shown is that death of a child makes the world a better place. Not once in 18 episodes do they ever explicitly condemn Piltover. Not once did they validate Zaun's right to independence. We got "forgiveness" (forgiving your abusers? great message) and "finding your way back to each other" (which none of the duos actually did. They're all "dead"). And my personal favorite, the important lesson that asexual people do not have happy, healthy, nonplatonic relationships, so TAKE THAT JAYVIK SHIPPERS.

Since they ended Arcane with a reference to a Japanese proverb, in the spirit of duality I'm ending with a quote by someone who actually has personal experience on the subject:

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."- Desmond Tutu

[somegrumpynerd]

I feel like there's so much fun to be had with Nightmare and Dream being from a time where language had very different meanings, especially with queer stuff.

Like, the word queer used to just mean odd or unusual. Imagine Nightmare and gang visiting an au they're not familiar with and Nightmare points out one of the residents and says "he looks awfully queer" and the gang is like "whoaaa boss you can't say that" and he's so confused.

Girls used to be the word for all children regardless of gender. Just picture Dream off-handedly telling Ink and Blue about how he and Nightmare used to get along so well "back when we were girls" and the other two just wordlessly accept that these two ancient emotion guardians are trans and super casual about it. Bonus if this is also happening in Nightmare's gang and when it all comes out both groups have to explain gender identities to their leader.

Gay meant joyful and carefree. You could go 50 different ways with this. Killer tries to come out like "boss... I'm gay" and Nightmare is like "??? alright... I'm glad you're happy". Dream sighs wistfully and says "I just wish we could all be a bit more gay" and Ink can't decide which joke to make he just has to go lie down. Nightmare rallying his boys before a mission like "my brother believes the entire world should be positive but there must be balance, we cannot all be gay." and they share a worried look like "shit was one of us supposed to be straight??"

[sscarletvenus]

ptj truly created THE siblings of all time like???

one of them is a greasy depressed manic junkie, a cannibal, a trigger-happy psychopath serial killer who has committed patricide, has consistently worn sanguine biker leather and denims for almost a decade, and is the lecherous and weird and off-puttingly attractive boss of a cartel in Mexico, with quark-shattering daddy issues.

and the other one is a gentle and beautiful "gang leader" who wears old money monochrome suits and trousers, who also hates his dad, wanting nothing to do with him but cannot seem to extricate himself from being entangled with the eerie circumstances of his father's demise. he is so wretchedly honorable and empathetic and self-sacrificial while simultaneously being like. insanely manipulative. and superficially charming. his face evokes the image of golden fields of rice as vast as the eyes can see, his visage as fertile as the banks of the nile, an autumnal apple orchard. but he's also depressed and lost and disillusioned with an unhealthy obsession for an older man who got him involved with gangs in the first place.

one of them really likes red velvet cakes and fruit flavoured bubblegum while the other likes raw, red meat still pulsing with vitality.

both are so similar and so in opposition to each other. truly two parts of gapryong's whole, an intelligent evil and an arbitrary goodness. one of them is his light, the other his rot, his capacity for evil (why else would he play with women and abandon them, neglect his children, or intend to join politics?) . and you know what? these parts are not in complete exclusion of each other. we have seen jake breach moral thresholds for the one he treasures, similarly, gitae also eliminated gapryong which is an ironic justice to himself and those that suffered because of gapryong.

post getting too long so i will just end by this : i love you toxic pernicious wretched doomed by the narrative siblings. i am obsessed with you.

[lycheeloving]

I now have a writing brain worm because of you.

Reading the shared darling au, with Captain Marvel viewing us as a parent or sibling made my heart just squeal from wanting to pinch his cheeks. (Auto correct used punch instead of pinch.)

Reading yandere Bat Fam, especially non-platonic yandere Bruce, made me think of how goopy this man is for his kids and how he'd probably be feral for a partner who also loves adopted children the same. (As evident from Selina, but with cats.)

So imagine with me if you will, we're a civilian in Fawcett. (don't know if I wrote that right.) You see a 12 year old boy around the city who's obviously homeless, but he tries to help as many people as possible.

You make food that's good cold, will last awhile without a fridge, or is so fresh it's still steaming for this kid. You give him blankets and clothes that are too big because it's better for him to grow into them. You don't know where he disappears to during a crisis and it's eating you up inside. So you offer your place in case of emergencies, or if he just wants to come by.

Eventually, he trusts us and slowly starts appearing every now and again. You already turned a guest room in your apartment into his room. It's like having an outdoor cat, but it's a kid. You offer getting him enrolled in school again, through the Internet so it's easier for his lifestyle and cause you want him to succeed even if it's not in your home. He gets so emotional that he asks if you could be his parent. You say that you'll try your best and work to get a foster license. Billy lays low so CPS won't try to take him again since this is a home he found and wants to stay.

Meanwhile, Batman found out that Captain Marvel was a 12 year old named Billy Batson. An orphan with no shelter, food, or clean clothes. Who runs from every foster home he's been in. He debates how he's going to either adopt the kid or is going to find a way to make him stop being a Hero until he's older.

Bruce is deep in thought when new information on Billy surfaces. He's registered as a student for online classes. Bruce sees this as the opportunity to get the kid in Gotham. By offering these online students and their parents the ability to tour Gotham Academy campus, all fairs paid as well as accomodations, on the chance they will win a full ride for the Academy of three of them. Room and board for said winning students and their parents offered jobs at Wayne Enterprises, as well. Not as anything major, unless you have the skills for it, but still a good job with amazing benefits.

Billy is mildly excited at the prospect of going to an actual school. And the possibility of you also getting a better job with better benefits. There's also the fact that, in the city of crime, it'd be easier for you to legally become a foster parent and/or adopt him!

You two decide to take the offer. Billy feels guilty for leaving Fawcett, even though there's no guarantee he'll win. He also made sure to ask others to check in on his city in case anything happens.

While on the tour, the group gets held hostage by a gang who's leader wants to become an official Rogue. One thing leads to another and you get shot through the right side of your chest while trying to shield Billy.

This leads Bruce to having his own trauma brought back up and the guilt of orchestrating all of this, even if it was to try to give a kid a better life. All the other parents back out of the 'contest' but you have to go to the hospital in Gotham. Bruce pays for all treatments and opens his home to Billy while the kid waits for us to recover, visiting every single day. Billy gets the scholarship on the basis he accepted it and was the only one willing to.

Bat Fam grow to think of Billy as a brother and, other than Bruce, kinda hope the kid's guardian doesn't make it or stays in a coma. Bruce on the other hand is wracked with guilt. He made Billy go through the same trauma he did.

He also becomes obsessive over you, given the fact that you acted as such a good parent. And that you were like him, trying to adopt a feral child that trusted no one. The more he looked into your background and your actions, the more he wanted to get to know you as a person.

When you finally wake up, it's to Billy tapping away at some school work. Chocking out, "Bil-ly?" Gets the tiny boy to launch at you.

You find out about everything and feel guilty that the billionaire paid your medical bills and that you don't know how to repay him back. Bruce uses this to his advantage and asks you to be a secretary. Obviously, while we're learning to walk again and have physical therapy, the best way to move around is a wheelchair. Thank goodness Bruce is already prepared for that.

It was so kind to let you and Billy into his home after the injury. Even the rest of Bruce's Brood have come to like you after a while. From corralling business men, making coffee, volunteering at animal a homeless shelters, trying pilates or aerobics, and learning a bit of ballet as you regain control of your body.

You're walking again! You have money from your nice job. You're looking into getting an apartment for you and Billy.

That last part most definitely doesn't fit anyone else's narrative of how it should be.

...did i write anything about Captain Marvel? 🤔 Or did you just mean my fics made you think of him? lol

EITHER WAY this was really good & cute, thanks! I'm glad I inspired you <3

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: spirit-raiser (mini-series)

Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and you are the witch he has chosen to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, begging, orgasm denial, fingering, p in v, no aftercare, sex magic, blood magic, potion for arousal, curses and hexes, witchcraft, possession, mediums, if you squint theres some plot, smoking, mention of death/violence/torture, mention of police brutality, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8k

A/N: hey. don't ask. this idea came to me a few days ago and i wrote it all out in like two sessions at 2am. i want to write more for this, i have so many ideas for some more one-shot style interactions. this just got so long so quickly so i had to cut some stuff. sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You did not remember leaving your door unlocked. 

The fog that settled over the smokey, portside district of Sootstone was suffocating. Despite it being only midday, the entire neighbourhood was cast into a muggy gloom. The sun could not break through the thick smog that comfortably nestled itself along the windy streets of The Warrens. The stench of smoke and fish hung heavy in the air, with sweaty dockworkers and dirty children darting between alleys. In your short journey to and from the small Sunday market, you had nearly been bowled over thrice by oblivious residents. 

The Warrens, or Sootstone Port, as it was formally known, was not a pleasant place. Home to the working class and the rotted underbelly of the city of Blackstone. The high society chatters liked to forget such a place existed, as it was simply not a charming place to think about. Most worked the ports, ferrying in the sea trade. Others worked in the Smokestack district, manufacturing metal in factories that pumped ash and soot into the air. There were also the select few who turned to other trades, such as pubs, hotels, brothels, or even those who were forced into a life of joblessness on the streets. 

The Warrens weren’t so imaginatively named. It was a clever joke among high-society gossipers that the poor fucked like rabbits and lived in their elaborate winding burrows, from which they rarely emerged for air. The people of Sootstone had accepted the insult, finding the whole metaphor rather hilarious. That was because the Warreners could take a joke, unlike the condescending crowd of high society. It could also be argued that the residents of The Warrens could not come up with a better metaphor, as most were not educated in any sense. 

Perhaps the mixture of smog and that lack of an education had finally made it to your head. You were left standing, perplexed, as your front door swung open without so much of a nudge. The lock was normally a sticky one, leaving you to jiggle the knob and slam your shoulder against the frame until it came unstuck. Never in your two years of living in the tiny flat had you ever witnessed such a sight. 

You would’ve thought it a miracle if it weren’t for the implications. 

It was true that The Warrens were notorious for crimes. Theft, assault, and murder. Even if coppers paraded the streets, they weren’t truly there to stop criminals. No, they were more interested in beating any poor innocents that got in their way. It was better to find protection from vigilante gangs who roamed Sootstone’s streets, scrapping like stray dogs over territories. As much as those uninvolved in such business were afraid of them, they also respected them. Their deeds weren’t always motivated by blood and destruction; the gangs stood to protect their communities as no one else would. 

Even if you and your surrounding neighbours were under the protection of Barnes’ Smog Boys, it was definitely still alarming to see a group of them gathered in your small kitchen. 

“Lookie who's home.” One of the men cooed at the sight of you. He stood closest to the door, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other fiddled with a toothpick that hung from his lips. His blond hair was slicked back, tucked under a flatcap. Steve Rogers. The Smog Boys right hand man. Next to him was Sam Wilson, his stocky form leaning against your rickety cupboards. His gaze was fixed on a silver pocket watch he had tightly secured in his left palm, a short chain draping across his vest. He glanced up at Steve’s words, a wicked smirk crossing his lips at the sight of you. 

“Sunday market?” Sam queried, and you drew your woven basket closer. There was an unsettling sneer in his voice. 

The Smog Boys were one of seven gangs that roamed the underbelly of Blackstone. Their territories lay in the fog of Sootstone Port and the smokey streets of the Smokestack district and The Warrens. You could commonly see them stalking the streets, dressed in all black with their flatcaps and slicked back hair. They moved through the smog like ghosts, navigating the twisting streets with an unnatural ease. Some called them ghouls; others called them saviours from the fog. 

The final man, the worst of them all, was Bucky Barnes. He sat across from you, half obscured by your small dining table. He had laid a box of cigarettes and matches on the marked wood. One was smoking between his lips, his head angled down and cocked to one side, as he assessed you with a look of boredom. There was a terrifying edge of calculation in his gaze as he evaluated you. He was just as large as the other two men, with muscles poorly hidden beneath his black, tailored suit. His hair, similarly to Steve's, was slicked back, and the sides buzzed. A 5’oclock shadow ghosted his jawline, but overall, his appearance was unsettlingly neat. 

Not a speck of ash or soot. As if he had just appeared within your flat, blinking into existence rather than having walked The Warrens like any other mere mortal. 

You had never seen the man in person. No. If the Smog Boys were ghosts, Bucky certainly lived up to the name. He was an enigma, a haunting story whispered between children. He had clawed his way up to a position of power from the gutters of The Warrens, bloodshed and all. He was a notorious skirt-chaser, his handsome appearance and strong build drawing in women from all classes. Looking at him now, despite the terror congealing in your blood, you could understand the appeal. 

“Why’re you here?” You ask hesitantly. Unlike the gangsters before you, you were not pristine by any means. Falling ash had coated your shoulders, staining the tartan fabric of the mantle draped over your shoulders. Your hair was swept up under a head scarf, which was also covered in a layer of soot and dust from the smokestacks. Even your worn leather boots were not safe; mud and filth caked onto the heels and sides. The streets of The Warren had never known any type of cleanliness. 

“Come to introduce ourselves. Don’t think we’ve ever met before, ‘least I think I would’ave remembered a pretty face like yours.” Steve speaks up, a gleam in his eye. His tone is playful yet somehow cruel. The chuckle he and Sam share rattles you. The two of them were also said to try their luck with the women who crowded around, searching for the thrill of a gangster lover.

“You might’ave mistaken me for someone else… I’ve lived here two years now.” You speak with a continued caution. With precise movements, as to not brush either of the hulking men crowding the kitchen entrance, you place your basket on a nearby surface. Even the cloth that you have thrown over the items is coated in a layer of ash. 

“We know.” Sam says, twisting his body. He lifts up the cloth, inspecting the food beneath. You know it is nothing exciting—some bread, fish, and vegetables. As well as a handful of sweets you gave to the children of your neighbour. You keep your mouth shut as Sam dips into the white and red striped paper bag and pops one of the sweets into his mouth with a satisfied hum. 

Steve pushes himself off the wall, his jacket brushing against you. He was far taller than you, tall enough that he had to crane his neck down in order to whisper in your ear. “A lil’ birdy told us you’re a spirit-raiser.” 

“I—No.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting between the three men. Bucky is still silent, still like a cat hunting a mouse. The gaze he assessed you with was one of a predator, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t crack a smile as the two men beside you laugh between themselves. 

To fend off some anxious energy, you make quick work of unknotting your headscarf. Ash and dust flutter to the ground as you shake out the fabric, a frown etched across your features. You could not help but let your mind wonder to the stories you had heard growing up. You were a lifelong resident of The Warrens, only moving to live on your own after sickness claimed your mother. You father had passed long before that, lost to drink. 

“What do you call yourself then? Hm?” Steve asks, breath hot against your cheek. You flinch as he pulls a fleck of ash from your hair. In the stories, they would speak of men with their tongues cut out. Bodies that were filled with bricks, then stitched back up and sunk to the bottom of the Sootstone Port. Men were found hanged from street lights, severely beaten, with sections of skin along their thighs and chest peeled off with a blade. And those were only the bodies coppers found. 

“I prefer witch.” You correct, brows furrowing. Your head turns to look at the gangster, wary of how close his fingers lingered. Teeth bared in a grin, he blows a soft breath across your hair, the last of the ash unsettled as it floats away. You can smell tobacco on his breath—a familiar scent to you.

“I need a favour.” Bucky finally speaks up, his voice low. Your gaze snaps to meet his. 

You blink. “A favour?”

You jump as Bucky finally moves, his foot jerking as he kicks the seat opposite him. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, stopping centimetres before your boots. 

“Sit.” He commands. 

Sam’s hand finds the back of your neck, a soft push guiding you in the direction of the free space. You obey, your knee bouncing as you take a seat. You sit near the edge of the chair, leaving some distance between yourself and the table. As if sensing your desire to bolt, Steve sweeps up behind you, pushing the chair in until you are fully tucked in. Then, with mocking laughter, Sam and Steve take a seat on either side of you. 

“No one told me there was any issue about magic—” You begin. Steve snickers beside you, returning to fiddling with the toothpick still poking from his mouth. 

“A favour.” Bucky repeats, exhaling smoke from his nose. Sam leans back in his seat, legs spread so widely that his knee touches yours. You shrink back as far as possible. “I’m no copper. I don’t care what you practitioners get up to.”

You find yourself blinking in surprise once more. Magic was a subject that divided many, mostly due to it’s misunderstood nature. High society treated magic as another lavish hobby or skill, with some even going to private schools to turn their gifts into professions with the right licences. Of course, the people of the lower-class were banned from performing such tricks unless they were in possession of the right permits. Due to the nature of the slums being, well, impoverished, unlicensed magic ran rampant through the streets. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that an entire blackmarket of forbidden arts ran in the backalleys and warehouses of The Warren. Places where those needing particular services could find them for a much more convenient price than in the higherclass areas of Blackstone. 

You had kept your services rather secretive, never using your real identity with clients. It was a precaution to not have coppers knocking down your door in the middle of the night. It seemed, despite your best efforts, that nothing flew past Bucky Barnes. But then again, nothing seemed to fly past the gangster. He knew of every black market and every whisper of illegal activity in the slums. It would be foolish to believe he was unaware of you; however, why did he specifically sort you out? Now that was a mystery. 

“I don’t understand—” You choke out, head whipping back and forth as you look between the men. 

Bucky sighs loudly in annoyance, loud enough that you flinch back. He puts out the remains of his cigarette on your dining table, the smouldering dip leaving a black, circular mark on the wood. He digs into one of the pockets of his vest, revealing a large pendant necklace. The chain is silver, with an oval shaped jewel hanging from the centre. The silver that encrusts it in place is swirled, ensuring there are no gaps for it to escape. Sam and Steve fall quiet, any feeling of twisted amusement dropping from the room. Bucky slides the necklace across the table.

You recoil. This time not out of fear, but rather from the aura the necklace exudes. 

Goosebumps rise across your skin, and bile rises in your throat. There was a wickedness in the air, as if all the light and sweetness in the world were sucked into an empty, yawning void. The world feels still, as if even the ash outside has failed to fall. The room is cast into a sickening silence, a silence so strong that even the surrounding world refuses to push through. You can no longer hear the people walking through the winding streets of The Warren, not the clang of metal from the smokestacks or the cry of the dockworkers. 

Rot. 

It is the only word that comes to your mind. It is as if the jewel itself is rotten, potent, and putrid. An invisible smell so strong you nearly gag. Your skin crawls the longer you stare, as if you rot along with it—bugs squirming beneath your flesh, the taste of dirt in your mouth.  

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice strained. You know the blood has drained from your face. Bucky looks at you with curiosity. 

“You tell me.”

You look down at the necklace. Dread rises once more, and the chill of soil settles across your shoulders. You twist your head and your neck, feeling uncomfortable and strained the longer you gaze upon the necklace. 

There was something terribly, terribly wrong about it. 

“There’s a… a sickness… a rot—a curse.” You stumble over your words, your entire body squirming against your will. The feeling of dread swims through you; the sensation that you need to get as far away as possible reverberates down your spine. 

“Becca was right.” Steve sings somewhere besides you, but you barely register his words. 

“Where’d you find this?” You ask. The room is tighter than usual, with the rickety, peeling cabinets closing in around you. The oven screeches on its iron legs, the yellowed wallpaper crushing closer and closer. Your head falls into your hands, elbows propped onto the table. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to rid yourself of the sickly feeling. You rub your fingers up your face, pinching the bridge of your nose, then massaging your forehead

“It was given to me. As a gift.” As he speaks, you reluctantly open your eyes once more. The room has returned to as you remember, your vision less dizzying as you take in a deep gulp of air, your heart thundering in your ears. You must make a face, because it prompts him to speak once more. 

“My sister has a sensitivity. She is convinced—”

“There’s a spirit attached to that jewel.” You interrupt before thinking. Your knees bounce beneath the table, your feet shaking. Your entire being screams that you need to get away from the object. You do not care for politeness or fear of these men, as the horror in your heart you felt gazing upon the necklace greatly outweighed any potential anxieties of the future.

“Yes.” His voice matches his composure—cool and collected. Wholly unaffected by the horrific aura cast by the necklace. Bucky and his men were not magically inclined. They were completely oblivious to the calamity that sat before them. 

“The spirits're attached to you, too.” You pause, the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. “You need to get it lifted.”

“That’s where the favour comes in, doll.”

“I don’t…?” You nearly doubled over. “Please get rid of it. I can’t—”

Barnes leans forward, slowly dragging the necklace over the wood. He slowly deposits it into his breast pocket, watching with curiosity as you sag in relief. You would need to burn this table after they left. You could still sense the rot engrained in the pores of the wood. 

“I need to speak with the spirit attached.”

Your forearms lay flat on the table, and you rest your head against them as you try to remember how to breathe. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you. Was this how they tortured their victims? Wore them down into pathetic, panting messes? Were you about to become another body at the bottom of the Sootstone port? You mumble into the fabric. “I can’t raise a spirit without a name.”

“I know her name.”

You pause, lifting your head slowly. “You want to ask her how to break it? You may know her, but spirits’re tricksters they won’t always give ya the correct information—”

“I know how to deal with her.”

You arch a brow, unsure.

“She’s a scorned lover.” Sam whispers beside you. You jump, having forgotten the two other men sitting besides you. Bucky scowls at his words—the most emotion he has shown in the entire time. 

“Everyone knows you don’t ‘ave a witch for a moll unless you’re gonna marry her.” Steve butts in, and the two men share a chuckle. 

“Shut your mugs. The both of ya.” Bucky snarls, and they both fall silent, although you can’t help but notice their bemused smiles. After a brief, tense silence, the gangster settles back into his seat, tipping his chin upward in a nod. “Morwenna Blackthorn.”

You hesitate, glancing between the three men. They watch you expectantly, relaxing back into their respective seats. Given their status and reputation, you had to presume they were familiar with the workings of underground magic. Licenced practitioners would have clients sign lengthy documents for protection in the event of a spell or session backfiring. The Warrens did not have such luxuries—if you made a mistake, no one could protect you or them from the consequences. 

You inhale sharply, placing your hands palms down on the table. The wood hums beneath your touch, the invisible vapours of the curse tickling your flesh. With a roll of your shoulders, you exhale slowly, allowing your body to relax. 

Ink drips across your vision, swirling darkness millimetres before your eyes. You stare hard into the invisible void, searching blindly through the tendrils of smoke. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your mind hums. Through the dark fog, you can make out figures—flickers of candle flames casting large, distorted shadows. Morwenna Blackthorn. Bones crunch beneath your feet, yet at the same time, you float. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your hands burn into the table, the rotting sensation tangling through your digits, pulling you deeper. 

Morwenna Blackthorn

You can see a thin line of thread hanging through the void. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

It is red; a series of knots tugged tightly intermittently. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

Your fingers grasp the fibres gently, your nail hooking around one of the tiny knots. 

You tug.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

A violent, ragged gasp leaves you. It claws up your throat, ripping at the flesh. Your entire body tenses, your spine straightening as your head snaps back. For a moment, you are suspended. You can feel her with you, her ghostly fingers stroking tenderly across your skin. She smooths over the back of your hands, slowly and gradually winding her way up your arms. She clutches your shoulders, her bones digging into your flesh.

Then, with violence strong enough that you fear she has folded your spine in half, she pushes down. 

Your body instantly relaxes, head lulling downward. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and despite the appearance being a milky white, you can see perfectly clearly. Morwenna has settled herself deep within your bones, controlling your movements like a puppeteer. You are conscious enough to understand what is happening, but you are not in control of your actions or speech.

Your mouth spread into a wide, sly smile. “Bucky, my love.”

“Mor.” The gangster greets, although he does not seem entirely pleased. You pout, leaning your elbows onto the table. 

“Not happy to see me?” You coo. Somewhere beside you, Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. It is the most off put you’ve ever seen the man so far. He winces as your head swings around, a wicked grin gracing your lips. “Oh, Stevie and Sam. Didn’t see you two here.”

“Mor.” The two men grumble in unison, scowling. 

“Awh. Why so glum, boys?” You whine, your chair scraping against the floor as you stand. Your movements are fluid and graceful, entirely not your own. Your hands stroke across the back of the chair, then swooshes up to meet your chest. 

You lean forward, tutting as you inspect your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard. “Trust you to find a pretty one in The Warrens.” 

Your hands move to unpin your mantle, a cloud of ash lingering in the air as you drop it to the floor. You sigh in relief, your fingers unbuttoning the top of your shirt, revealing the curve of your breasts. Your hands smooth down your waist to your hips; your full figure is now displayed. 

“You missed me that much, my love? That you had to find a pretty vessel for me so you could get your cock wet, hm?” You hum, sashying towards the table once more. 

“That’s not why you’re here.” Bucky replies. He seems frozen in place. The horror of familiarity. Recognising the mannerisms of someone he once knew in a complete stranger. 

You ignore his words, unpinning your hair. Thick locks unroll, cascading down your shoulders and back. You let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, rolling your neck. The strands frame your face, and the rich colour brings colour to your cheeks. 

“Morwenna.” Bucky snaps. Your brows furrow as you look over to him, pouting once more. “You put a curse. On the necklace.”

Your mind momentarily blanks, as if Morwenna were trying to recall what he said. Spirits often grew confused trying to recall memories, especially ones that brought them anguish. A cog seems to turn as you flash the gangster another beaming smile. 

“The necklace… oh. Did you like it? My parting gift to you? Before you fucked me over you piece of—” Your voice, once sweet and soft, deepens to a guttural growl. Your body shakes, and words cut off as you cough and hack. Your hand raises to your mouth, warm fluid leaking from your lips. You let in a shuddering breath, rubbing your fingers and palms down your chin. Blood smears across your skin. 

“You shot me, my love.” You gasp, your brows furrowing as your head tilts. “You shot me.”

“You betrayed us, remember? You were a rat—” Steve jumps in, but is quickly cut off. 

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

Your hands find your stomach, doubling over as you sob. There is no wound, no blood. Still, your hands dig at the fabric while ragged, pathetic cries leave your blood stained lips. 

“How do I break the curse?”

You shuddering sobs stop, a dreadful silence falling over the tiny kitchen. A guttural laugh erupts from you, saliva mixed with blood dripping from your lips to the floor. “The curse. The curse? I should have known… I should have known…”

Your body jerks upward, movements stiff, and jerks like a marionette doll. Sam’s face contorts into one of fear, while Steve looks horrified. You jerk forward, nearly tripping over the chair as you plunge towards the table. Your stomach smacks hard against the wood, a winded wheeze escaping your lungs as you drag yourself forward by your nails. 

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me?” You cry, your head beginning to twist, the angle so unnatural that it strains your neck. 

“How do I break it?” Bucky repeats, voice firm. He hasn’t so much as flinched, a wall of steel as you crawl towards him. 

“It was born in chaos, so it must be undone in chaos. I will find you. I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you rot from the inside out; maggots will grow within you; and mould will bloom in your soul. Everything will crumble to dust beneath your touch. I will ruin you until you b–b—be—”

Your body slides back, and for the first time in the entire session, you grab the reins. You search blindly for the knotted thread, tugging hard. Your body steps back from the table, muscles spasming and tense as your body locks in place. 

You tug harder, and darkness swims across your vision. Candles flicker and dance in the distance, the sun rising and falling as your body twists up and down. The smell of rot slowly subsides, threads slipping from your fingers. The scent of copper and ash is on your tongue, and your head is pounding. 

A dramatic sigh leaves you as your body slumps. You find yourself standing before the table, three sets of eyes burning into you as your own eyes roll back into place. Sam and Steve look equally disturbed as they are horrified, the blond’s mouth agape in shock. 

“The fuck was that?” Sam barks.

“I ain’t never seen a spirit session like that before, Buck—” Steve begins.

“Shut it.” Bucky barks, rising to his feet. 

There is a sickly feeling in your chest, a radiating pain across your ribcage. You barely register the gangster walking up to you, gripping your chin between his index and thumb. 

“You pulled yourself out early.” Bucky sneers. “Why?”

“Buck—” Steve calls again. With a growl, Bucky releases you, twisting around to snarl at Steve. 

“I thought you told me she was the best in the Warrens?”

“She is. Did’ya not see that shit?”

“She didn’t get me an answer—”

“Chaos magic.” You finally speak up, your voice raspy. The gangsters pause, slowly turning to face you. “She told you. It’s chaos magic. What’s born in chaos must be undone in chaos.”

Your hand raises to your face, your fingertips touching your upperlip as warm blood flows from your nose. You raise your hand into the light, inspecting the crimson liquid. Your eyes cut over to Bucky's, and he frowns. 

“Chaos magic?” He questions. 

“Sex magic.” You state, fighting the heat growing across your cheeks. Without much of a care or a flinch, you navigate your way past the group. Your shirt brushes against Bucky’s jacket, the rotting feeling momentarily settling in your stomach as the fabric brushes his breastpocket. You pause in front of your sink, knuckles white as you grip the lip. Blood continues to stream steadily from your nose, dripping into the basin. 

“You focus your thoughts on one thing; you get pulled into a trance. Take the energy, the chaos, and you focus it. At the peak, picture what you’re manifestin’. The chaos that you’ve built through the act is released at the moment of orgasm.” You explain, your gaze solidly locked onto the blood that swirls down your drain. 

“Sex magic.” Bucky hums in thought.

Steve spoke up from beside him with a snicker. “How poetic.”

—

You hated how your hands shook. If Bucky had noticed, he hadn’t brought it up. He was coolly inspecting your tiny bedroom, hands tucked into his pockets. The room had an eclectic taste, with walls covered in shelving. You collected books, objects, trinkets, or other things that helped your work. Drying herbs hung from your curtain railings, your desk cluttered with papers you had hastily scribbled notes upon. 

You ground your palm harder into the pestle, gritting your teeth as you worked the herbs inside into a fine paste. Your bed, stripped bare, had been pushed to the side of the room. It usually sat near the centre, atop a fraying rug. The rug had also been removed, rolled up, and placed somewhere in your stairway. The old wood beneath had been painted by your hand, with intricate runes, symbols, and swirls making up the general shape of a circle. You had already lined it with black salt, candles burning at each cardinal direction. At the centre of the circle, you had laid your bedding and pillows for comfort. 

Bucky had sent Steve and Sam away, the two men snickering like a pair of school boys. You all knew what was about to unfold; it was just a question of why you had allowed yourself to become tangled up in such a situation. You had done similar rituals for clients before, yes, but none of those clients had been the boss of the Smog Boys. None of them had been Bucky Barnes. 

You eyed him as he paused in front of the carved circle, mindlessly playing with the jewelled necklace that hung from his grip. The awful, dreadful, rotting sensation was dulled; you’d nearly begged the gangster to let you cleanse the object. It was a temporary relief that would wear down in a few hours, but at least you could complete your work without gagging at the feeling of it. You hurriedly poured the thick paste from the herbs into a pot, which boiled in your fireplace. It only took a couple of stirs for the potion to settle. You could feel Bucky’s eyes assessing your every movement as you poured the steaming liquid into two cups, briefly swirling each to ensure the consistency was correct. 

“Remind me what this is.” The gangster asked, closing the distance between you. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the scent. 

“A potion to help with the ritual. Some find it…hard to perform.” You say, wincing as you realise what you implied. Bucky raises a brow as you fumble over your words. “It heightens arousal and pleasure.”

“I won’t find it hard to perform.” He replies curtly. 

“I know. I wasn’t saying that—I just… from experience…” You stumble again. If only you could punch yourself in the face for this idiocy. 

“Relax, doll.” He hums, his hand finding your shoulder. You exhale sharply, lips pressed together, as your shoulders drop in response. “I can find someone else if you don’t want this.”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting it, you did want this. Maybe it was a sick curiosity, wondering if this dangerous yet handsome man could perform as well as you imagined, as well as it was rumoured. You swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “No. I want this.”

“Good.” His hand brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, and his head dips to look at you better. “Honestly, I could fuck you with or without the potion, doll.”

There is a knowing smirk spreading across his face as your mind blanks. Fucking rake. You consider if the fumes from the potion have already leaked their effects onto you both. You can feel a warmth growing between your legs. 

“It’s my job.” You mutter, stepping away. Although you’re unsure if the reassurance is for yourself or for him. His chuckle follows you as you sweep across the room, returning to your small desk. “Do you want me to explain the ritual in detail or just give you the gist of it?”

“Spare the details; just run me through what I need to do.” He responds. He has closed the distance between the both of you again, peering over your shoulder as you fumble through your things. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” You sigh, turning around. Your chests are nearly pressed together as you spin. You back up as far as possible, your hands moving behind your back as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. "We’ll have to draw some blood with a blade and put it on the necklace to link it to our energies. It’s sigil magic, nothing you’ll have to worry about. We take the potions…”

You fade off with a shrug. Bucky smirks once more, his chin lifting in amusement, but his gaze remains solidly locked onto you. His hands go to his pockets, and his wide chest blocks your movements. You clear your throat. “The ending is more what you’ll need to focus on. When you reach… climax… you must focus all your energy on the necklace and nothing else. I will be there to guide and remind you, but you can’t let your thoughts stray.”

“What about you? What will you have to think of?” He questions, his voice low. His adams apple bobs as he swallows slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip in thought. Intriguing question. No one had asked you that before. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who needs to orgasm.”

“Why?”

“The curse is linked to you. Only you can break it, with my assistance, of course. I am just here to help guide you and lend you my energy. I am just a conduit for the magic, to focus it.” You explain. Thinking it was best to get it over and done with, you finally pluck up the courage to push past him. 

Your athame was already in place; the candles were lit, salt laid, and sigil memorised. There was only one thing left to do—the act. You crouch down by the fireplace, retrieving the two cups. Bucky gives you an incredulous look. 

“It tastes better than it smells.” You reassure him, handing him the saucer. He inspects the liquid once more, wincing, then shrugging in surprise as he finally downs the lot. You watch with a scrutinising gaze as he places the cup down, rolling his shoulders. 

The potion would take all of five seconds to take affect. It didn’t alter the brain or take away authority; rather, it heightened already present feelings of arousal or pleasure. The user would experience a rather euphoric sensation. Dodgy brothels often microdosed their clients with such herbs to heighten the experience. Also to hook in a new, loyal customer. Used sparingly, the herbs were fine, but they were highly addictive. 

And illegal. Most of your work fell into that category.

Within moments, you could see Bucky’s pupils dilate, his jaw and shoulders relaxing, and his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly. His voice was strained as he spoke up, his tone gravelly and low as he cleared his throat in surprise. “Fuck. That does feel good, doesn’t it?”

You smile shyly into your own cup and swallow down the liquid. You were familiar with the taste and it’s effects. It was surprisingly sweet, with a vanilla, nutty aftertaste. As soon as it hit your stomach, you could already feel the warmth growing in your core—a delightful tingling sensation spreading up your spine and skull. 

You were quick to place your cup down and cross the room to retrieve the athame. You had to pin point your actions very directly so as not to get distracted by the hulking man looming in your room. The potion was definitely potent, because any fear or anxiety had left you. Your body begged for him to come closer, to touch you, to kiss you. Not yet. Soon. 

“Come here.” You murmur, drawing the blade from it’s sheath. Bucky obeys, wordlessly stalking towards you and presenting you with his palm. You look up at him through your lashes, gently taking his hand into yours. Your skin sings at the content, a rush of goosebumps raising across your skin. “We don’t need much blood.”

The gangster is still as you drag the blade in a short cut along the heel of his palm. You push into the mound, coaxing out droplets of blood to blister to the surface. “The necklace.”

He lets out a low, agreeable grunt as he hands it to you. The potion has helped you ignore any bad energy attached to the object. Your skin simmers as you brush your finger tips along the cut, gathering Bucky’s blood. You take the jewel, smearing the blood across the slippery surface into one half of a symbol. Bucky watches expectantly as you hastily repeat the process with your own hand, smearing your blood to complete the symbol. 

“You need to wear it.” You hum and guide the chain over his head. You know you should find a bandage or some kind of healing salve for your hands, but your attention is pulled away as Bucky grasps your hand. An involuntary whimper leaves your throat as he raises your palm to his lips, his tongue peaking out as he runs it across the open wound. The potion had definitely taken effect. Holy fuck, your back arches as pleasure shoots down your arm, blooming at the base of your skull. 

His lips kiss along the cut, sucking and licking. Your mind swims from the sensation—ideas of where else he could be putting his mouth to use. You pull your palm away, dragging it across his cheek as you cup his face. A crimson streak is smeared along his skin, and his lips are glossy from saliva and stained with your blood. The two of you clash in desperation, a rumbling groan being pulled from the gangster as his lips engulf yours. 

You can taste copper on his tongue, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his body. The two of you move in a frantic rhythm, scarcely making room to breathe. You guide him clumsily to the painted circle, the two of you falling to your knees in unison. Blindly, you find his clothing, helping him tug off the jacket and then unbutton his vest. 

His hands slip under your blouse, caressing the skin beneath. His fingers roam to your brassiere, your nipples hardening as he brushes them through the sleek fabric. You mewl into his mouth, squirming under his touch as the pulse between your legs quickens. His large palm comes to rest below your breasts, his thumb sitting on your sternum as he yanks you backwards onto his lap. 

Your lips break, and you gasp for air as the gangster continues his assault down your neck to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His stubble tickles across your neck, and he gathers your skirts, fingers gliding past your stockings to your exposed inner thigh. 

Your head tips backwards to rest on his shoulder, and loud, satisfied sighs leave you. The sensation is near blinding, your body alight with pleasure. Had you accidentally made a stronger dose in your nervousness? You had never yearned in such a way before—

“What’re you doing?” You query with a gasp as his fingers slip beneath your loose tap pants. 

Your question is answered as he strokes a fingertip through your wet folds. 

“You’re so wet.” He hums against your skin, voice strained. You can already feel his erection pressing into you. His grip on you remains firm, your back flush against his chest as he dips two of his fingers into you. Ecstasy fizzles across your skin, nails digging into his skin where you grip his arm. 

“What’re you— I’m supposed to make you—ah!” You whine, your breath coming fast as you lean harder into him. Your hips rock greedily, pushing your pelvis in time with his pumping fingers so the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. 

“Shh, doll. Relax.” He whispers, his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body is locked in place by his grip. His pace increases, and the panting in your ear grows as his two digits glide in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Do you like that?” He groans in your ear. Your grinding hips are now giving friction to his cock, which twitches against your backside through his pants. You whimper in response, a short sob bubbling from your mouth as you clench around him. 

Your head lifts, eyes widening as you look down. You can’t see much due to your skirts, but you can feel the knot tightening within your belly. Your hips move more desperately, needy, pathetic moans escaping you as his pace remains steady. 

“Please—” You beg, squirming as the gangster chuckles. 

“You do like this, huh? Even if you acted like a little innocent virgin earlier.” He growls. The vibration is enough to set you over the edge, a loud cry leaving you as you clench hard around his fingers, body spasming. Bucky continues to steadily pump you through your orgasm. “Good girl.”

A continued arousal stirs in your belly at his praise. Your body slumps against him, panting and exhausted. 

“Such a good girl.” He hums again, his digits slipping out of you. You can feel the sloppy mess between your thighs, and as Bucky pulls his hand into the light, you can see the wet drenching his fingers. “I think I like this version of you. The one who makes pretty little noises while I fuck her brains out, hm?”

You’re left speechless as the gangster lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk. 

“Well, time to get this ritual over with then, don’t you think?” He says. You’re too exhausted and drunk on desire to bother replying. You allow him to guide you down, so your head is placed side-ways on one of the pillows. He guides your hips up, your legs slightly spread, and pushes your skirts to your hips. 

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re close, so I can guide you.” You finally muster up the strength to say. The gangster pulls your tap pants down, exposing your cunt fully. 

“Sure thing, doll.” He says in response. You hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls out his cock. 

Without much warning, he pushes into you, your arousal making it easy for his member to slide in and out of you. A growl burns in the back of his throat while you wordlessly make a fist around the sheets and blankets beneath you. 

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Bucky groans, his voice strained. “And to think you’ve been hidin’ out in The Warrens all this time.”

He sinks deeper into you, pulling small whimpers and moans from you as he finds a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His hand slides up your clothed back, pushing you harder into the pillow with a grunt. His other hand finds your hips, his grip bruising as he guides you. 

You bite down into the pillow, your pleasured sobs muffled by the feathers. 

“You squeezed so tightly around my fingers; I can’t wait to see how you’ll feel when you come around my cock.” Bucky grunted as he ploughed into you. His hand fists around your loose hair, fingers tangling through the locks as he tugs. Tears are beginning to prickle in your eyes, and your legs are wobbling from the sensation. 

“Please—” you gasp out. 

“Please, what?” The gangster asks, tugging harder. The hand on your hip is squeezing tighter as he holds you in place. 

“Please—I need to—”

“No.” He growls, tugging you upward. You fall backwards into his lap once more, his cock still inside you but somehow deeper from the angle he holds you. “You need to finish the ritual, remember? I can’t have you guide me if you’re too fucked out to talk.”

Another sob leaves you, but you wordlessly nod. You hold onto the burning sensation in your gut, the waves of satisfaction so immense that your limbs tremble. Bucky continues to fuck up into you, his cock steadily driving into you as his free hand comes to lazily swirl your swollen clit. 

You try to remember words, instructions, anything. You feel too high to even breathe. All you can do is focus on the sensation of the necklace rubbing against your back and the friction burning against your skin. 

“Focus on the necklace. How it feels around your neck.” You squeak out, your eyes squeezed shut, as you try to ground yourself. “Focus on the feeling of the chain, the weight of the jewel. Think of your blood, how a piece of you is painted onto it.”

There is a moment of silence between the two of you, only the slapping of skin and the rasping of breath. 

“Are you focused on it?” You ask.

“Yes.” The gangster cuts back. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy. 

“Focus.” You whisper, though a breathy moan leaves you. “Feel your energy flow; feel your blood seep into the stone. Picture how it will shatter beneath your power.”

His hips jerk beneath you, his finger on your clit swirling faster. Your breath comes in sharp stutters, your back arching as you find no way to escape the rising sensation. His back is rock solid behind you, his hands keeping you in place as you begin to spiral. Your pussy tightens around him as you begin to scream—

“Please, Bucky. Please!”

Something snaps between the both of you, his hips jerking wildly as he spills into you. He moans into your ear at a deafening level, his fingers digging into your thighs. You double over in pleasure, your vision briefly going black as you cry out. Sparks dance across your skin, your body momentarily alight as the power of magic flows through you. You can feel the rush as your energy meets Bucky’s entangling with one another in a fierce battle. For a second, you feel intoxicated, colours bursting across your sight as the rush of magic rests in your chest, and then, just as quickly as it arrived, it cascades out of you.

Behind you, the sound of shattering can be heard above the moans.  

Panting, Bucky releases you. You slump to the floor, off his lap. His cum drips from your pussy, thighs wet as sticky as you close your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. You roll onto your back, pressing your thighs together. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you look down at Bucky. He sits kneeling, dishevelled. His hair is ruffled, blood is still smeared along his cheek, and his shirt is untucked and creased. 

At some point, he has tucked his cock away, suspenders hanging loosely by his hips. His gaze is not on you; rather, it is solely focused on the necklace in his palm. You go to lift your head, but you find yourself too weak and exhausted to bother. A mixture of being too fucked out to care and the lack of energy from acting as a conduit for the ritual. 

“Did it work?” You ask the gangster, and his eyes finally pull up to look at you. His gaze wanders over your face, examining your swollen lips, the blush across your cheeks, and the areas where exposed skin remains. He cracks a grin, lifting his hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, the large, blue jewel now gifted with a large crack down the centre. 

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes flicker closed, a sleepy warmth prickling across your scalp. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes snap open with a jolt. 

“It’s all done? The curse is gone?” The gangster questions. You weakly nod in reply.

“Her spirit and whatever curse she held have been released.” You affirm, voice sleepy, relaxing back into the pillows and blankets. “Apologies. This type of spell drains me.”

Bucky chuckles. You were just glad you had enough sense near the end to actually guide him. The gangster appeared to be attempting to prove something with the orgasms he extracted from you. In the state you were in, you had little reason to complain. 

When you opened your eyes again, he was across the room, vest on and jacket slung over his arm.

“I’ll leave your payment downstairs.” He says, only pausing to look down at you, still curled up on the floor. You blink up at him sleepily. “Thanks for your help, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t find the energy to correct him.

PONY CLUB (PART 2)

[brucewaynehater101]

Do you think the bat kids ever look at how Bruce treats them or their siblings and how their own siblings treat them and

internalize that?

As some examples. . .

Tim Drake, the parentified Robin, looking at the way Batman treats Stephanie and Jason and noting down how not to act around Batman if he wants any of the progress he's made to stay

Damian seeing scars from when Batman---the so-called civilized and humane alternative to the League---brutalized Tim during training and fixated ever further on becoming his chosen heir

Duke, a gang leader himself, remembering news articles and gossip on what Batman had to say about Red Hood gang leader himself after coming under the patriarch's wing

Oh, absolutely. This isn't explored enough, but you are correct. The way that adults interact with your siblings does impact you as well. The lessons they are being taught will also have an impact on you (my therapist mentioned something about watching the abuse happening to your siblings is traumatic for you as well).

This checks out for the Batkids too.

One, your Duke example is stunning. I've never thought of it that way, but it's perfectly reasonable and understandable.

Two, the Damian one tugged on my heartstrings harshly. It's a good hc.

Three, definitely vibe with the Tim one, and I'd love to see more examples with different kids.

A few other notes to consider: Does Bruce treat batkids of different attributes separately? Are the younger kids subjected to mannerisms distinct from the older ones? The kids who have killed someone? The ones without black hair? Gender? Socioeconomic background before Bruce? Sexuality? Caffeine intake? Hobbies? Fighting abilities?

I'm not saying that Bruce would do this on purpose or maliciously (I mean... he could), but our society is unfortunately filled with biases. You have been subjected to such, and in order to combat this, we need to constantly combat these mindsets. Because of this, Bruce might subconsciously treat his children differently due to common societal prejudices combined with his strict moral mindset (and tendency to sometimes have black and white thinking).

The bat kids may or may not pick up the exact type of category Bruce has subconsciously placed them in, but they will recognize who gets affected by separate mannerisms of Bruce.

All of the kids have distinct collections of treatment styles that Bruce gives them, but they share some traits with various siblings.

Some behaviors Bruce might do: who gets hair ruffles vs side hugs, who gets lectured vs asked to report, who does he help with small injuries, how long does he stay with each kid in the infirmary, who is yelled at vs given the silent treatment, who has a space in Batman's toolbelt for their items, who does he call first for unrelated incident types, etc.

Also, this extends past Bruce as well. How does Alfred treat them? Doctor Leslie? Mr. Fox? JL? Anyone whose opinion matters to the kids will have an effect on them.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Some things I’ve noticed on my second viewing of “Five Nights at Freddy’s” (2023)

(Some of these are obvious, don’t @ me, I’m autistic and I had work the day I first watched the film so my brain was all over the place)

Once again, SPOILERS ARE UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE AVOIDING SPOILERS!!!!

On my first viewing I thought that showing the security guard at the very start loosening the bolts of the chair straps was a fake out to make us believe he’d escape, but actually he loosened the bolts which is how Mike was able to escape later on

Just want to say that the opening credits are fucking cool and I love them so much

In my previous post about things in the FNAF movie, I incorrectly said there was no Golden Freddy - Golden Freddy is in fact in the film, he’s the one who goes to the house/kills Aunt Jane/is in the taxi

Following on from the above point, I said last time that I thought the cupcake was the fifth ghost child but I actually think it’s Golden Freddy to be honest - the blonde girl was obviously Chica, the boy with the bunny ears was Bonnie, the ginger boy was Foxy, and then there was the blonde boy and another boy with a top hat on. I originally thought that the blonde boy who wore the brown shirt was Freddy because he seemed like the leader, but now I’m wondering if the boy with the top hat was Freddy and the leader boy was in fact Golden Freddy (given his blonde hair)? I’m interested to hear what everyone else thinks

This is obvious but the doctor foreshadowed the ending because she told Mike that drawings are powerful tools for children to express things and understand things, and that’s exactly how Abby communicated to the gang at the end that Afton was responsible for their deaths

^side note but as an early years practitioner at a nursery/for preschool children, it’s actually true that pictures are used to help children learn things even before they can read, write or talk. I don’t know, it just interested me to be like “oh yeah that’s true!!”

There was not that much focus on Mike’s dad, like he was seen so briefly compared to his mom, which makes me wonder if there’s something to it that might be revealed in a future film. Like maybe his “dad” isn’t his dad or something? Because in the game canon, William is his father, so… I don’t know. I also saw someone else point out that in the training video Mike watched, there was a man working on the animatronics who maybe looked like the actor playing Mike’s dad, so maybe his dad worked there with the animatronics?

The film appears to be set in 2000; I’m 90% sure the security cam of Mike in the careers office showed the date as being in 2000, but if someone else can clarify or confirm the exact date then that would be great. It would make sense though because Garret presumably went missing around the same time as the ghost kids (in the 80s), so the film being set in the present day (meaning Mike would be in his 50s) would make zero sense. Also the mobile phones/computers all seem like they come from the early 2000s

Someone on Twitter pointed out that one of Abby’s drawings on her wall appeared to be a red airplane, which could just be an indication/foreshadowing of her knowledge of Garret’s disappearance (his toy airplane) but also someone else said it could have been 9/11 which….?!?! If this film is set in 2000, then that’s FUCKED

(I think it’s either a random drawing or to do with Garret’s toy tbh but the idea of her having foresight of 9/11 is fucking horrifying)

I’m still not totally sure which animatronic the gang were going to force Abby into, like it’s one with spring locks and at first I thought it might be Circus Baby but it doesn’t really look like her. It looks almost like a marionette or something? And I mean, yeah, it could be that they changed the design a bit but they literally stayed faithful to the designs of all the animatronics in the series so… you know.

Desperate to know if Matthew Lillard is aware of the fact that his DILF status has been multiplied by one hundred after this film like can someone check in on him and see if he’s alright? 💀 the FNAF girlies fans are frankly RABID about Afton

On that note, I wonder if Josh Hutcherson or Matthew Lillard have ever played any FNAF games, like were they fans before being cast or…? I really wish we could have content of them talking about the film or promoting it, but Hollywood refuses to pay their actors fairly so 🤷‍♀️

Listen, I ADORE both Josh and Matthew anyway but in this film I feel like Matthew especially stood out??? Maybe it’s just the character he’s playing but he ATE this role up (so did Josh but still)

I feel like the springlock scene was actually more terrifying upon a second viewing like at my first one I was like “that’s not as bad as I imagined” but this time I was like “holy shit he’s in agony” like his screams were PAINFUL to listen to

Speaking of painful to listen to, Freddy gave this really guttural and pained roar/scream at one point during the ending and it really made my heart hurt, it’s like the child inside of him was reliving the memory of their murder or something??? I can’t describe it but it was such an intense moment

I honest to god feel like I enjoyed it more on a second viewing and I don’t know why??? Maybe it’s just because the other people in my cinema weren’t laughing every five minutes but still.

I now have the urge to rewatch ALL of Markiplier’s playthroughs of ALL the FNAF games so… yep!

Once again begging for people to talk about FNAF because I’m not the most knowledgable on the series but I do enjoy it!