#yes mr scars is working at target

[sisterlucretia]

☆ I AM A SUPERSTAR AND I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE!!! ☆

stupid drawing that's from a joke rp two friends and I did like last night.

Mr scars is @milos-journal and observer is @gaylex-gaylie

I was firebrand. :3.

[heartfullofleeches]

everytime i see the name v you can be assured that i am going to butt in.

honestly, v is definitely the type to hire a hitman just because he got in an argument with someone. sure, he could deal with it by himself — but he is a lazy bum and has his... "priorities".

v meeting up with the hitman and immediately his jaw falls off. the most he was expecting is a bald man in shades and a suit, not an incarnate of a divine being!

v watching hitman aim their sniper on the victim — he can't help but observe the focus in your eyes and the steadiness and precision of your hand near the trigger. he praises the beauty of your hands, and unfortunately, his mind got to wandering. thinking about how your hands would feel on his cock — would you focus on his cock like you focus the aim on your targets? would you stroke his cock with absolute precision?

he's put out of his state when he hears a 'bang!' and flinches.

"the job is done, mr. vince."

"could you... do me next?"

"..."

This is bullshit.

If he knew he had to go outside to have that bastard killed, he would've just done it himself.

V drums his fingers against the dinner table - eyes scanning the venue for anyone that might fit his imagined description of the person he's looking for. Rugged, shaven head, nice suit and tie - maybe a few visible scars from their line of work. While there a number of suits in a fine establishment, they were just the run of the mill rich assholes he'd grown accusation to through his life.

Sweat beading down his neck, V pulls at his collar. He hadn't even dressed up for his grandmother's funeral a year ago and now here he was in a nice button up and slacks for a complete stranger - and it isn't even for a date. If the waitress came by again to check if he was ready to order his tie would be an easy ticket out of here without the embarrassment of walking out looking like a dateless loser. He can already hear them laughing whichever way this goes. Frustrated, V folds his arms, shutting his eyes as tries to blend with the background of the uncomfortable booth he sat in. Maybe if he keeps them closed long enough when they open he'll be back at home - or dead. Either is an acceptable option at this point.

"Excuse me-"

V shoots up from his seat as warm breath fans his ear. The voice, no louder than a whisper, sends a chill down his spine as it flows from the lips of its speaker like smooth honey. A far cry from the unpleasantly sweet tone that waitress threw on to hide her thinly veiled annoyance at seeing V still hogging an empty table. He looks up at the looming figure at his table side - jaw slack as his eyes adjust to the light that envelopes them.

"I don't mean to interrupt whatever it is you are doing, but would you happen to be a Mr. Vincent Carbone?"

V's mouth opens like the jaws of a dying animal fighting for its final breath. The person before him was dressed in date casual clothing. He stares at their exposed collar from the lower cut of their shirt and toned muscles from their sleeves. He rubs at his eyes. This... couldn't be them. He had to be looking at a model. V's standards were pretty low his own admission, but from the way they carried themselves down to their physical attributes proved they were way out of his league.

"Yes... um, that's me... Just Vince is fine."

They tighten their lips with a small nod. V makes a note of how soft they look compared to his own chapped skin. He follows their every move as they sit down in their seat across from him - wasting no time as they pull a black folder from the brief case brought with them. He watches as their calloused fingertips turn each page - pondering what they might feel like around his-

"So - are you this guys secretary or....."

V flinches as their eyes snap up at him - emotionless face plagued by a hint of annoyance at his query. "I can assure you I do all of my work by myself, Mr. Carbone.... From the information you've given me, it appears you have had a fued with this person for quite some time despite numerous attempts to block and/or have them removed from the group of individuals you play games with, and wish to escalate matters further."

Breathing through their teeth, they shut the folder - placing it flat on the table. "Had I not done my research into your person, I'd consider this whole thing."

V feels tightness in the crotch of his slacks at the use of that word. Mr. Carbone. He's been referred to as such before, but the way it rolls off their tongue- V picks up his glass of water and fits it to his lips, trembling hands spilling the cool liquid all over his white shirt.

"R....research... You... know about me?"

"Yes. It's common for me to look into the backgrounds of all my clients. Make sure they have the funds to pay for my services and take note of what I can take as collateral if anything comes up. I know for certain you've got the cash, but the rest is still up in the air."

V swallows hard. "I already had the records of our conversation scrubbed and it's not like we talked much anyway... I don't trust cops much either."

Amused, the hitman's expression shifts from its blank slate for the first time as they offer him a small smile. "Good boy...."

V slaps a hand over his mouth to stiffle the whimper that almost slips out. The hitman retrieves a small flip phone from their briefcase and slides it across the table.

"From now on you will contact me from this device only. We will discuss how what methods you prefer in due time. Do you remember what else we talked about when we spoke over the phone?"

"Yea.... Half up front, half went it's done." V pulls a crumbled envelope from his pocket and hands it to them - savoring the brief moment of contact between his sweaty hands and the heat of their skin through their gloves. They count the bills briefly before sliding it into their back pocket. What V wouldn't do to be that piece of paper.

"I look forward to working with you, Sir. Something tells me we'll be hearing a lot from each other in the future."

".....you promise?"

[dance-to-mythoughts-blog]

Pro- Hero Todoroki x Black Fem! Secretary Reader

From Secretary to Pro Hero

Hey guys! Long time no see. Sorry. Haven't been in a writing mood as of recently. So here is something for our little icy hot friend. I went down a rabbit hole with our favorite icy hot bastard lol. I got this idea from a Todoroki imagine I read a while back about them hate fucking and this was the inspiration for it. When I find the story, Ill link it.

AGED UP CHARACTERS!

Warnings: D in P, degrading, cream pie, spiting, hardcore, backshots, mating press, dick sucking, choking, hate fucking, office sex

"Are those papers ready? Mr. Todoroki needs those ASAP for the meeting."

"Yes. They're on my desk. Grab them please"

"You cant get them? Mt. Todoroki needs them in his office ASAP" Carla, the secretary complained. Slightly rolling her eyes.

"Again, I'm working on finishing touches for the meeting that he is likely to request 5 minutes before the meeting. Please get that stack of papers of my desk and hand them to him. Advise him that his notes will be done in 2. Thank you, Carla. For actually doing your fucking job" Y/N said. Carla was upset and she rolled her eyes, huffing and puffing. Knowing her, she will more than likely exaggerate some shit. Sure, enough I get a phone call from the infamous Todoroki himself.

"Carla informed me that you were working on some last minute things. Why would u do that?"

"Because sir, you always do that? Every time you have a meeting, you decide that you want certain things to be in order, right? So, before your meetings, I prep your regular notes and then print out extra notes. Anything else? If not, I'll be there in 45 seconds goodbye" Y/N hung up the phone annoyed. Making her way to the room where the meeting was, she was in for a pleasant surprise. Hawks is your fav. hero and he is also here with Deku and Ground Zero. And nothing could've prepared you for how fine they were in person. Hawks was so damn fine. He stood tall at 6'3, with beautiful crimson wings that stood out like the sunset, golden eyes, and spiky golden blonde hair with red shades that complemented his pale yet toned skin. Showing several tattoos. Deku looked just as good. Scars covered all of Deku's body, spiky black and green hair, and big puppy dog green eyes. He had on a tank top and he had some black joggers on with a black tank and showed his back tattoos as well. Then there was the infamous Ground Zero. Spiky blonde hair, piercing beautiful Crimson eyes, tattoos, and a scar that comes from the left-side of his jawline to his left pectoral chest muscle. They all had earrings in both ears wearing street clothes because Todoroki's father called a quick meeting about a villain attack. They looked so fucking good that it hurts and had my pussy throbbing.

"Hello. Sorry to call you guys in on such a short notice, but we needed to discuss the villain attack that recently happened." Endeavor started.

"There has been a constant focus on attacks in the minority of Japan. We have to figure out a way to combat this. Otherwise, our minority citizens will not trust us to help keep them out of harms way."

You heard they just started and attempted to sneak in to not disrupt the meeting but that was unsuccessful. Forgetting that this meeting room had a squeaky door and you're black so you kind of can't go unnoticed until Endeavor called you out. Now all eyes are on you.

"Y/n, what is your opinion on the issue? We know you're a minority and we want to hear from your perspective of things. I know you were sitting out there listening to the briefing like you always do"

Well shit. Now all eyes are on you and this is your chance to make a name for yourself and actually be useful for once instead of just handling papers n shit all day.

"Well, I think the first thing is to figure out why they're targeting black people. Once you guys figure that out, then you can move forward with trying to make it up to your supporters. After all, you guys were sworn in to protect just like the police and y'all work with them correct?" All eyes were on you. Even the heterochromatic eyes from the infamous Todoroki were staring at you intrigued. You can't even lie, Todoroki looks good just like the other heroes. He had on a white T-shirt with some black joggers and some Nike slides. The shirt was tight enough to see his muscles.

"It would be crucial to make sure that you dont leave your black citizens out because they need you just like the other citizens do as well. Oh, Here are your notes on the matter and Carla gave you the papers from my desk. Does anyone need anything while I am here? Sorry to interrupt."

"Do you have a quirk?" Deku asked?

"What the fuck do you need to know if she has a quirk for nerd?" Ground Zero said.

"I agree" Todoroki mentioned. "What is the purpose of her quirk being known? If she has one."

"Well, I do have one. It's similar to telekinesis. When I just do it, my body produces a dark blue aurora around my body, and my eyes turn dark blue. I have Sai swords, a staff, and fans that I use similar to Mileena, Jade, and Kitana from Mortal Kombat. Idk how, but this blue aurora can also help heal the injured too."

After I explained my quirk, they got so off-topic that they kept staring at me. I left and heard them asking Todoroki how come he hired me as a secretary and not a sidekick. They finished their meeting, and I was in my office packing up. Today was only a half day, so we could wear casual clothes. The heroes were not in today because they had press, they were doing while we stayed behind to make sure they were not double booked and doing sectorial things. As usual, I was the last one to leave even tho it was a half day at the office. As I was gathering my things and cleaning up, I heard my door open and close. Who did I see to my surprise? Our favorite Icy hot bastard. Looking slightly annoyed.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked

"Have you ever heard of knocking? That's number 1. For 2, what the fuck you mean? Deku asked me a question and I answered it. Was I supposed to lie to the man?"

"Because now they voted to have you come for this mission. They found the hide-out and they think you'd be a good asset. Your quirk intrigued them for some reason. Did you do this to spite me?!"

"TO SPITE YOU? YOU THINK I WANNA GO ON THIS MISSION?! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THIS UNTIL YOU SAID SOMETHING YOU CUNT. SO HOW IS THIS MY FAULT? But I guess it would be good to show you up in front of daddy's baby huh?" you asked as you knew you struck a nerve. We all know Todoroki is sensitive about his family and what he's gone thru. We all know his father is extremely overprotective after what happened.

"Yes Y/N. To spite me. you have been a pain in my ass ever since you have been hired. Fuck. The only reason you are still here is because you do good work and you make the place structured."

"So, your business would crumble to shit if I was not here basically huh?" as you walked around your desk to meet him halfway..

"Fuck no. This shit can stand on its own. Don't fucking play." he said meeting you halfway as well. Before you know it. he was towering over you. He smelled good. You can give him that. He was 6'2 towering over your small 5'2 frame. I guess the shirt that you wore made him stare because you could clearly see him staring at you in a way you'd never seen.

"Suck a fucking prick. I bet you are scared huh pussy. It's ok. We're going to do the mission and then we can find you a cat after. I think a kitten is the closest thing you would ever get to some pussy huh?" you said striking another nerve. You have to admit, he is a man and most men are sexy as fuck when they're angry. He looks so fucking goood but you will not fold. your pussy has a fucking heartbeat now and it's becoming louder and louder.

"The fuck you say to me!? Y/N don't fucking play with me." he took another step closer and was all in your grill. He scoffed "I bet you can't even handle this dick if it was thrown at you. just a crybaby who can't do shit." He stood over you grabbed your throat and kissed you. He finally kissed you. You kissed him back. The kiss turned hungry as you wrapped your arms around his neck and also, he put his hands on your waist and grabbed your ass. You were so taken back that you are making out with Pro-hero Todoroki in your fucking office, and he is about to fuck your brains out soon.

"You *kiss* are *kiss* a *Kiss* good *kiss* kisser. Shit." you giggled.

"Hmmm. Much more than that princess." He smacked your ass. "I knew you had a fat ass. Always teasing me with them tight ass skirts" as he grabbed your ass again, harsher this time to where you were on your tip toes and your pussy lips spread open a little. He kissed your jaw to your neck and started sucking on it. You ran your hands down to his pants and started rubbing the clear bulge in his joggers. He felt big, even though he was clothed. He bit your neck just a little.

"shit" you moaned out. "Feels good"

"What you want baby? Are you to be finger fucked in the office like a whore? hearing him talk dirty was a treat and a complete turn on.

"Yess baby" you moaned. "finger fuck me please."

"your wish is my command" he slid his long thick fingers in and out of your wet hole. Here you are, being Shoto's good little slut like he wants you to be. He finger fucked you so good.

"Uhh Shit babbbbbyyyy....I-I" you moaned in broken moans.

"You gone cum for daddy?" he said in your ear. " cum for daddy all over his fingers" after he said that, you came everywhere. His hand was soaked up to his forearm and the area on the desk was a mess.

"Fuck that was good. Let me suck it" you begged while panting for breath.

He chuckled a deep chuckle like you knew yo ass was in trouble.

"Another time baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. Can I fuck you Y/N?" he asked lustfully.

"Yes daddy." He slid right on in. He fit like a fucking glove. He slide all the way in and bottomed out.

"Please move" you said breathlessly.

"As you wish" and he started thrusting slowly. Letting you get adjusted to his dick. Now, you talked all that shit but you sure were wrong about how his dick looked. He was big. He was long and thick with a nice vein you could feel on the top of the shaft. His tip oozed with precum because you were so fucking sexy a moaning mess under him. He started to pick up the pace.

"Fuck you feel good To- Uhh" you moaned out.

"Fuck you tight. Shit. It's Shoto from here on got it?" He hit you with a hard thrust.

"Yes daddy. Sho you feel good baby." you whined. "keep this up imma cum"

"Already? Just getting started love." He had you in missionary on the desk. Ass hanging off the table while your legs were on his shoulders and he was drilling your shit.

"Fuck *thrust* you *thrust* feel *thrust* good." he panted. "Gonna make me bust in the pussy huh baby?"

"yes cum in me," you whined desperately. "Fuck Sho I'm Cumming, Fuck!" you screamed out.

"Shi baby. Almost there. Gonna fill that pretty pussy with my seed."

His thrusts got sloppier and sloppier and he finally came.

We stood there. Trying to catch our breathes quickly.

"I got to go get ready for this mission. We leave tomorrow. Do what you need to prep Y/N" he said as he gave you a kiss. "When we get back, we can go on a proper date. Would you like that?" he asked? As he grabbed your waist and pulled you close to him for another kiss.

"I'd love to go on a date with Pro-hero Shoto." you kissed him back. "See you tomorrow solider" you winked.

"Sure will." he winked. Smacked your ass one last time and kissed you before he left. "We leave tomorrow night. Meet me here around 8:30 pm. "

After he left, you went to get ready for your mission tomorrow. Hoping that everyone remains safe. Especially him.

AN:

Here you go, everyone. Sorry I haven't been on in a min. Got the urge to write and went for it. I think I might make a part 2 as a follow-up on this. Let me know if I should.

[zooophagous]

“No. Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

Ursula set her mug of weak tea down a little harder on the table than she meant to, for emphasis. Along with an authoritative ‘thunk!’ it also left a split puddle on the cafeteria table. She snatched a napkin from the metal holder and furiously blotted it up.

“You already know that stepping out of the grounds at this moment is VERY stupid. Stepping out for the express purpose of finding a murder suspect to chat with? Doubly stupid. Exceedingly stupid. Stupid even for a vampire.” She huffed.

Artemis gave Strauss a pained expression. They were sat across from Ursula on the table bench, trying to present a united front. It wasn’t much of a front. Mostly because they knew that ultimately Ursula was correct.

“Look, we’ll have the tracker on him as well as the body cam. It will be as if we’re right there without actually being there. Besides, it’s not like the cops are going to be able to find Sylvain. Even if they did… it would be better for everyone including the general public if we found her first.”

“Mhmm. Remind me, Mr. Strauss. Have you met Sylvain before?”

“Yes.” Strauss replied tonelessly.

“And remind me again, what was the outcome of that meeting?”

“I was struck by an SUV and shattered my ribs and femur.”

“Right, right. And what do you think the outcome might be if Sylvain catches you wearing spy equipment while talking to her? Do you think she’d be pleased?”

“No, I expect she would take it as a violation of trust and a threat to her own well being and she would defend herself with extreme prejudice.” Strauss shrugged.

“And how do you expect to mitigate that issue?”

“By not getting caught.” Strauss replied flatly. “And, should I get caught anyway, I will simply have to fight my way out. I am in better shape now than when we last crossed paths. If She thinks I am to be an easy target, she will be surprised by what she finds.”

“Oh, so we would have to put you up in the sick bay again, then? I’m beginning to think you just enjoy being waited on by the pretty nurses.” Ursula scoffed.

“The nurses are not pretty.” Strauss idly picked at his nails, avoiding eye contact. “What of the possibility that I end up winning this fight? Perhaps I could return her to the custody of the Institute. Even if she is not guilty of this specific murder, I take it she is a high priority.”

“You, winning this fight? That’s rich.” Ursula scoffed.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because Sylvain doesn’t fight fair, and you will.” Artemis interrupted with a sigh. “We already know from experience that she wouldn’t hold back.”

Artemis absentmindedly touched the scar on her face that snaked over her clouded eye. “You haven’t ever had to fight like she has, and she was a former hunter to boot. She’s probably the clear winner here.”

“And you think I’ll fight fair?”

“You won’t be fighting to kill. You want information, not blood. Sylvain is a wildcard.”

Strauss sighed and sat back in his chair. “Be that as it may. I still have a much better chance of surviving the encounter than Vicar Martin or any other fool stupid enough to put their hand in the tiger cage.”

“Yes, and get accused of running and killing with her. No, no more talking about this. When I have a plan, if you are useful to it, I will be the first to inform you.” Ursula snorted. “Until then everyone will do as I say and keep their heads down and their mouths shut. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Strauss replied.

“Good. Try to focus on work for now. I know it’s difficult but the gears of the project cannot stop turning due to stress. As far as we’re concerned, this has nothing to do with us right now, so we will not plan around it or worry about it for the time being.” Ursula pushed herself up from her chair and turned to leave.

Artemis sat in stony silence as her aunt’s authoritarian heavy footsteps clicked away down the halls. Strauss leaned in towards her conspiratorially. “So. What is the plan?”

She let out a frustrated huff and drew herself up and closed her eyes. She exhaled loudly as she opened them again. “We’re going to do exactly as she says. We are going to focus on work, and we’re going to run experiments as if it’s business as usual.”

“Yes?” Strauss asked, probing. “And what might our experiments entail this evening, Frau Van Helsing?”

“We’ve gotten a full physical workup on you, but there’s a very large piece of your puzzle missing.” She grinned. “We’ve never documented a vampire’s form shifting sequence before. Maybe, for argument’s sake, we take some tracking and biometrics equipment and stick them to you, and take you outside to stretch your wings for a bit. Just for a bit.” She winked.

“I see. And perhaps while we are doing our very scholarly experiments, I happen to be blown off course ever so slightly. Just long enough to see if anyone would like to talk.”

“Exactly.” Artemis got up and began her march towards the equipment room. “Come with me. We’ll need to figure out a way to get a listening device on you that you can wear without it being easily seen. You’ll have to carry out some clothes and figure out how to hide the stuff yourself. Can you figure out one of the cameras?”

“Troy has been educating me on the use of various ‘gadgets and gizmos,’ as he calls them. If you show me which button to press, I am sure I can remember what to do.”

“Good. We’ll give you a smart watch. I’ll show you how to use it… And I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

“I suppose while we’re at it…” She sighed. “I should actually take some notes on your shift sequence. For science’s sake.”

“Yes, that would be best. It is quite painful, so while we’re at it, we should do it now.”

“Yeah. And if Sylvain gets you, this could be our last chance anyways.” She said sadly.

“She will not.”

“How are you sure?”

“If she wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now.”

The pair made their way to the outdoor exercise arena. Artemis swiped her key-card and the automatic door slid open. Strauss had his eye on the fence line. It would be easy to clear, once he had his wings on. He’d done it before. Just not with permission.

Well. Technically, this was still without permission.

“How quickly do you think you can find her?”

“Less than an hour. She seems to be able to find me. I don’t expect she will wait long. With any luck I will be able to extract some sort of information from her and leave without breaking any more of my bones.” He shuddered.

“Here’s hoping. Whatever she says to you, be it a full confession or anything else, just DON’T try to bring her in on your own, ok? We aren’t prepared to house her anyway, so even if you think you can do it…”

“I will be a perfect gentleman to Frau Pietra.” He replied, and began to peel off his shirt.

“Do you mean to record this event? It requires me to take off my clothing. I’d prefer it if you refrained from photos.”

Artemis smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be shy NOW after all we’ve been through? But that’s ok. I’ll take notes, not pictures.”

“Alright. This is a painful and energy consumptive activity. Please allow me a moment to complete it.”

Strauss dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, fully naked into the clearing. Being nude outdoors was even more nude somehow than being nude in front of the doctors and nurses. It was a situation that would soon be fixed by a pelt of thick, dark hair.

He shut his eyes tight, both from intense concentration and against the pain of transformation. Luckily he was distracted from the burning pain in his enlongating fingers from the agony of his face being broken and remade beneath his skin.

He stifled a cry. It wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of Artemis. None of this was what he wanted to do in front of her, really. For her, though. Well. Things have hurt more than this.

But not by much. He fell to his knees as hair split the skin and ran down his back and around his neck in a thick, uncomfortable mane. Interstitial fluid dampened the fur as it sprouted making the horrible texture all but unbearable. He writhed under it and began to bite at his own skin with the long muzzle that had replaced his jaw. The itching was cut by the stinging stretch of webbing between his fingers and finally, trembling and shaking in every inch, the bat had taken form.

Slowly he turned on his haunches to face Artemis. She was staring hard, and breathing harder. No doubt years of watching lycanthropy accidents from Troy had conditioned her to run instead of calmly watching a shift sequence. He could hear her heart like a jackhammer in her chest.

His pointy head no doubt resembled a wolf somewhat as well. His discomfort was quickly abandoned in favor of tending to hers. Carefully he stilted towards her on his folded wings and demonstrated his harmlessness by shoving his great hairy head into her shoulder.

She let out a nervous laugh and reached up to wrap her arms around the neck of the great bat. “Hey, hey. Down boy. Take it easy.” She chuckled.

“That was quite a show. I’ve never actually seen it in person up close before. Can you speak?”

Strauss let out a deep hiss like a failing hydraulic. “....No…”

It came out in a soft breath with weak consonants. His strained anatomy wasn’t built for speech. Not now.

“I see. That’s ok.” She gently stroked the soft muzzle and felt the hard tips of his fangs just below the velvety fur. She glanced downward and blushed slightly when she realized he was still very obviously naked, despite what coverage his fur gave.

She turned to collect his clothes and his equipment into a bag. “You’ll have to carry this out. If you can make a call when you’re done I’ll send a car to get you, no need to go through all that again. Remember, don’t try and take her on physically, no matter what. Not even if you see her actively killing someone. Preserve yourself over everything, and I mean everything else. Understood?”

The bat stood silent, though in apparent opposition.

“Please Strauss. We really can’t afford to lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

He paused, then lowered his head into her shoulder again, looking up at her with his dark, watery eyes.

“Good. Then we’re clear.

She rubbed his velvety ear, and he leaned heavily into the affection.

“You know, we should probably be careful about PDA like this. Cameras are still on out here.” She smirked. “I know it hurts and all, but honestly I’m a little jealous. Of the wings, I mean. It’s sort of cliche’ but I think everyone secretly wishes they could fly. You actually can. That’s more of a talent than just about anything else.”

The bat tilted its head at her, and pulled away and began to walk in a stilted circle around her. She turned to watch where he was going, when suddenly he charged.

He aimed low and bowled her over his head, neck and shoulders, landing her squarely on his back. She gasped and grabbed frantically onto the thick fur, but while she was struggling to right herself, he kept moving.

“Strauss? What are you doing! Strauss! STRAUSS!” She yelled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he began to pick up speed. His awkward wing-walk became a lopsided gallop, and soon he had air beneath them.

She couldn’t waste her air yelling or she might faint. The ground was getting further away as the bat began a gentle upward glide, up and over the barbed wire fence, past the search lights.

Ursula scratched a wrong answer into the crossword puzzle, then frowned and furiously erased it. The ghost of it sat there mocking her. What was the name of that sky scraper in Chicago? No longer the Sears tower, but it’s new name? Was that in Chicago?

Strauss was good at these puzzles but she wouldn’t ask him. Not in a million years. There was a soft knock at her office door. An intern, here to bother her. Great.

“Excuse me. Miss Harker?”

“Can’t you see I’m on break?” She huffed.

“Yeah I see that. But, erm. I sort of think this is important. Maybe. I mean the director knows about it already but-”

“If Artemis is handling it I’m sure it can wait.”

“Ok. I just thought maybe it needed security input.”

“If it needed input Artemis would have asked for it.”

“Oh. Well. Uh. Mr. Strauss took off with her, I wasn’t sure if they had like planned this or-”

“THEY WHAT-”

Strauss could have sworn he heard the distant yelling of an angry head of security. He wasn’t concerned with that at the moment. Artemis didn’t hear much of anything except the loud rush of summer air coming over the treeline. Strauss was keeping fairly low, no doubt not trying to scare her any more than he already did. He was aiming lower, too, looking for a landing spot.

She leaned in as far as she could to speak in one of his enormous pointed ears. “Can we make one more lap before you land?”

He immediately began the ascent again. The powerful beat of his wings made the seat difficult, but he was, as best he could, balancing her as she balanced herself. The shock had worn off, and her stomach had crawled back down her throat. The institute wasn’t a beautiful building. It used to be once, before the more utility focused add-ons parasitized the old facade. But from this vantage point in the dark, it was lit up like a dream.

Strauss swerved wide to avoid the building. No sense getting shot out of the sky by an infuriated security team. He aimed for the empty fields that ran along the road leading towards town. He swooped low and spread his wings out like a parachute, and finally reached down to land leg first and skid to a halt in muddy grass.

Artemis fell from his back onto her feet panting and shaking. She handed him his bag full of supplies, which he took in his mouth.

“That was… really cool.” She said breathlessly.

“Don’t ever do that again. But it was really cool.” She glanced out at the road, visible lights were already appearing on the horizon from the fleet of Van Helsing security vehicles.

“You should go. Remember what I told you. Be safe.”

He nodded his head, and with a single powerful leap he was back into the air. A rush of wind beat down from his wings all around the director, sending her hair flying. He was out of reach of security for now.

She walked to the roadside and waited for her escort home. This was a stupid, stupid gamble. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. With luck and prayer, hopefully nothing lost.

[kayhi808]

More Than Our Scars- Part 18

It's weird how the strings of Fate are woven. Days later, you still can't get the connection out of your head. Something that happened almost a year ago, would eventually lead you to Bill.

How many lives did you have a hand at ruining? Blackmail made so much sense; you don't know why you never thought of it before. Granted, you never were sent out to seduce a target. The arrangements were all set up by Fisk or Wesley. If those men wanted to cheat, well, that's on them. They should have been faithful. Still, it sits like a stone in your belly because of the power Fisk now held over those men and what damage can be caused because of it.

Billy's going to a holiday party, representing Anvil tonight. He's a little nervous. It's his first time attending an event after his accident, but Frank will be with him. From what you made out, Bill attended a lot of these parties in the past. You had no doubt he was a popular guest. You saw the photo in his office and Bill had those Hollywood good looks, rich, he ran a sucessful business. He was quite the catch.

Bill walk out of the bedroom in a classic black tux, looking the handsomest you've ever seen him. You thought he looked good when he wore suits to work. "Wow!" Bill gives you a shy smile & tugs on your hair as he passes you to go to the kitchen. You get up off the couch to follow him. He pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge. "You look really good," frowning.

Billy cocks an eyebrow at you, "And that makes you mad."

"Yes. NO! No, I'm not mad." Billy places his hand around your throat & gently pulls you in for a kiss. "I'm jealous."

"Sweetheart, trust me. No one is going to be wanting this mug. I'm all yours," stroking your throat with is thumb.

"You under-estimate your appeal, Billy."

He huffs lightly, "I'd much rather stay home, here with you," grabbing your hand & distractedly playing with your fingers.

Realizing he's still nervous, "I was just giving you a hard time. It'll be fine. Everything will run smoothly," smiling up at him. "And if I hear of any woman trying to take you from me...I know where you keep your ka-bar."

Bill gives in to a hardy laugh & picks you up in a hug. "Message received, loud & clear. You know, you're kind of sexy when you threaten murder," wiggles his eyebrows at her.

"Put me down," tapping his arm. Bill release you, letting you slowly slide down his body. You shove him away, when you touch the ground. "Now you're just playing unfair," a blush coloring your cheeks.

"I'll be home by midnight." Kissing you again, "Earlier if i can swing it. I'll text you."

"Ok, be safe. Have fun."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

*****

Billy & Frank have been at his event for 2 hours and Bill's ready to crawl out of his skin. He now understands how you felt being out in Beacon. It got to be too much after a while. He can't imagine himself ever liking this shit. The stares. The whispers.

Frank subtly bumps him. There's a steely look in his eyes that has Bill on immediate alert. He follows Frank's gaze to see one of the most feared crime lords making his way to them. "Take it easy, Billy," mumbles Frank.

"Mr. Russo." Fisk holds out his hand, "Wilson Fisk."

It takes everything Bill has to calmly shake Fisk's hand. "My associate, Frank Castle."

"I've been meaning to have my people reach out to you. I've heard excellent things about Anvil. You've built quite the reputation for yourself."

Bill casually keeps his hands in his pocket so he doesn't use his concealed wrist blades & stab Kingpin in the throat. Shrugging off the compliment, "What can I do for you,  Mr. Fisk?"

"I'm looking to contract some private security for a couple of my properties. Anvil comes highly recommended."

"Really?" Billy rolls his shoulder, trying to loosen up an old injury. "You can submit a proposal & I can have my people put it at the top of the list." Frank nods in compliance. "Frankie here, will make sure it gets top priority."

"Some jobs are more of a sensative nature. I'd prefer more personalized attention. Maybe we can set something up to discuss it. It could be a lucrative deal, Bill. I can call you Bill, can't I?"

"Sure, Wilson." Bill notices a muscle tic as the casual use of his name. "You can set something up with my assistant." He nods at Frank & Fisk & walks away. Frank provides Kingpin with a business card & follows after Bill. Fisk does not look happy. He used to people groveling for his favor.

Billy heads to the bar, where Frank catches up to him. Billy's got that wild-eyed look that Frank hasn't seen in a while. "You did well. Calm the fuck down."

Billy pulls out his phone & calls you.

"Billy?"

Releases his breath he didn't realize he was holding, "Babe, do me a favor & close the blinds to the loft. Try to stay away from the windows."

"What's going on? Are you ok?"

"Do what I say. I'm leaving now. It's just a precaution. I'll explain everything once I get home. And yes, I'm fine. I'll see you in a little bit." You don't answer, "Y/N?"

"Ok, I'll see you soon."

Bill drives home without incident, not that he expected it. He's sure Fisk researched him before approaching him. He just didn't want to put you in danger if The Loft was under surveilance. His loft is facing the river, but he didn't know how thorough Fisk was. He doesn't know if Fisk knew if he was living with someone, let alone you.

********

You hear the key in the lock and you hurry over to the door. It opens and Billy is talking to whom you assume to be one of his men. Bill enters looking as impecable as he left. "Bill, did you have a guard outside the door all this time?"

He kisses you and leads you to the bedroom, "No. Only after I got off the phone with you. It was just a precaution."

"Ok, now I'm worried."

"Fisk was at the event and he approached me. He wants to get together to discuss a job offer."

"What?!"

Bill changes out if his tux & removes his knives, "That's why I wanted you to close the blinds. In case he had people watching the loft. I'm sure he's done his reseach. But I don't know how thorough he'd be."

"You can't go through with this. What if he knows about the raid or...or Wesley??" You try to control your fear, but you're struggling.

"If he goes through with it, we can meet in a very public, neutral space. Then I can gauge what he knows and what he wants. He said he needed private security for his properties and some job he kept vague about."

"No, Bill. Please."

"This is what we needed. A way in and he invited us." You continue to shake your head no. "Babe, this is what I do for a living. I've gone up against worse people," he envelopes you in his arms.

You're upset but you don't want to fight with him, but now, he's just spouting bullshit. He has amnesia! He can't remember if he went up against worse people. You wrap your arm around him and don't let go.

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

[dbphantom]

NEW CHAPTER TIME 1092 SPOILERS AHOY

the chapter art is so fucking cute I'm wawawawa I love Jimbe so much it's unreal

Akainu 🤢🤮🤮🤮 FUCK YOU AKAINU

Kuma being here makes me think he has the same goals as the giant robot from long ago. The one I was talking about the other day from the start of this arc.

Okay I did see the other giant robot (vegaforce) getting targeted because of exactly this reason

Luffy is going to have to pick Sunny up isn't he (please please please please please-)

HOLY SHIT BONNEY

I know she's one of the worst generation but I genuinely wasn't expecting her to attack- oh there she goes. Rip.

(Okay I can see it on the next page and I'm vibrating with excitement but)

Luffy pick up the Sunny and run please please please

Ehehehehe

GET HIS ASS

WHAT AN IMAGE WHAT A SHOT WHAT A PANEL

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ye Olde Sabaody scars are finally healing this is so fucking cathartic please just start wailing on this dude. Luffy SMASH.

Also I really like the emphasis font/bolding on Luffy's voice here, like it's booming because he's so big and yet he's probably still shouting anyway. I love that for him.

Also the ah hya hya hya laugh, which you can hear in the Gear 5 trailer for PW4 (when is that dlc dropping?? I have a MIGHTY need) really makes me think Joyboy was a giant originally. That is probably where Elbaf comes in (Joyboy lore? Pls? 👀👀) + the giant straw hat

I love that everyone's reaction is STILL their eyes popping out of their heads. Poor Nami is never going to catch a break from this.

I wish we could see the rest of the Strawhats reactions to it! Brook was right there! Granted he doesn't have eyes to pop out (yohohoho), but that isn't stopping the logo half the time! No excuses! Also I just really want to see the remaining crew's reaction to Gigant Luffy. I know Zoro is busy and Sanji probably ran off to go do Mr. Prince stuff in the bg but pleaaaaaase you KNOW their reactions are going to be the funniest of them all

Also SUPER FIGHTING ROBOT GIANT ROBOT GIANT ROBOT GIANT ROBOT GIANT ROBOT

Okay, options:

Not from this chapter 🔽

It's powered by/recognizes Gear 5. The drums in the panel make you think so, but I'm wondering if that's just a red herring? Harnessing the power of the mfing sun to fuel a giant robot is sick as FUCK tho so I wouldn't put it past Oda. Definitely something a space age civilization could do. Tho mother flame is implied to be powered by a fusion power reactor, so if Vegapunk still couldn't get the robot working after all this time, but York is confident in replicating the mother flame, then they probably aren't the same bc I imagine they would've tried to use the fusion reactor on the giant robot by now... That or she's just straight up lying about being able to replicate it/the existence of the reactor. Or Shaka was lying. Or it's powered by something way more abstract than the sun, like joy or freedom or something and that's why it lost power in Mariejois and the Punks couldn't figure out the power source and then it finally started back up when Luffy went Gear 5. Or- okay, there's a lot of options, I'm gonna stop now. Whichever one it is, I really hope Luffy gets to power and pilot a giant robot. Come on, Oda, let it happen, it'll be so cool...

Kuma activated something on Mariejois that activates the robot again. I think this is the most likely one given what we know so far, plus it's the easiest explanation. It also would make sense if the G5 drums are a red herring. Then Robot is going to continue doing what he was doing all that time ago. I still hope it is looking for that giant straw hat. Robot please destroy Imu's stupid little butterfly garden.

Kuma repelled his (remaining) consciousness into it? But going thru all that trouble to get to mariejois in his original body only to then do that? It would be a weird choice. But who am I to judge... Maybe there's a reason for it... Maybe he needs someone outside his own body to help achieve something... Maybe they only needed his body for the thing and so he's able to yeet his mind over to the big robot... Maybe that's how Kuma can come back... Let me have this one okay, the whole thing is super vague anyway 🥺 In Veneer, old world tech is powered by trapped souls, so maybe that's the same idea here and he'll be okay

There's another/outside group controlling the robot and they decided now would be a good time with all this shit going down. I think last time I talked abt it I mentioned the revolutionaries? They're a candidate but honestly with the way Oda writes it could be anyone, and probably a group we haven't met yet.

Side note, I wanna see gigant Luffy and demonio fleur Robin bro-ing it out now. A giant god and a giant demon... It will probably never happen since that'd take so much energy on both their parts, but it would be so cool!

[thegayfromrulid]

So for my next request, based on the 100 Percent Hero AU, can you write a oneshot with Mob (and Toshinor) celebrating Izuku's birthday please? This would take place during the 10 month training regiment and you can decide if they have a small party at Izuku's house or go out somewhere. But I'd like the main theme to be Inko wanting to learn more about Mob while showing gratitude for being her son's first friend in such a long time. What do you think?

First off: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your patience! I had literally prepped to write this three weeks ago, but despite my efforts I got the you-know-what virus. (T-T)

This was a really sweet request, and I debated the angle for a while when thinking about how to incorporate the perspective of Inko. I hope that the angle I finally chose reads well.

Fic link for the AO3 format

One-shot below the cut!

            If there was one thing to be said about Midoriya Inko, it would most certainly be that she loved her son more than anything else in this world. She strove to be the best mother she could be for him. In his ups and his downs, she always did her best to support him. It was difficult, at times. Izuku, because of his Quirkless nature, was a frequent target of bullying. He showed difficulty in making friends. The one person he claimed as a friend, Bakugou Katsuki,  seemed more like a bully than a friend to Inko. To her, it seemed as though she was the only person in the world Izuku had as a means of support. Thus, it came as a shock when Izuku returned home one evening and asked if it would be okay to invite two people who weren’t Katsuki to celebrate his birthday with them.

             The way his eyes lit up with eagerness and anticipation made it hard for her to say no. There were nerves bundled up in her stomach as she said yes, though. She wanted to protect Izuku from the scars that bullying left behind as much as possible. A fear of this being some sort of cruel prank didn’t leave her mind, even as he thanked her and rushed off to text his invitees. She did her best to brush that fear aside—if she was asking herself who in the world would want to spend Izuku’s birthday with him, then she was submitting to the idea that his Quirklessness made him stand out as someone undesirable. Even as she felt nervous waiting for that day to approach, she did her best to have hope.

            Please. Please be true friends.

            She repeated those words over and over in her head as she prepared his favorite meal for this special occasion. It was strange making katsudon for four; usually, she and Izuku ate alone, since her husband worked abroad. Hopeful warmth filled her chest. It was going to be a positive thing, seeing these four plates set at her table. Today would be a great fifteenth birthday for Izuku. Pushing her worries aside, she finished setting up the table just before she heard the front door swing open.

            “Mom! I’m home!”

            Inko hurried to the front to greet her son and his guests. Her nerves started to bubble up again as she saw the two people on either side of Izuku. One was a boy with a bowl cut wearing the gakuran of an unfamiliar school. The other was a very tall, thin man with longer blond hair that seemed vaguely familiar. Izuku waved his hand at the boy first.

            “Mom, this is my friend Kageyama Shigeo!” he announced excitedly. “He’s been training with me to get into UA as well!”

            She gave a polite bow as the boy did the same. He gave her a small smile as he did so.

            “Nice to meet you,” he said.

            His voice was soft. She could tell just from his gentle greeting that he was a kind boy at heart. Her worries had been for nothing, perhaps. Izuku turned next to the man on his right.

            “And this is who’s been training us!” he added.

            The tall man bowed.

            “I’m sorry for not speaking with you earlier, Mrs. Midoriya,” he said. “My name is Yagi Toshinori. You may know me better by my professional name, All Might. I’ve been training these two boys to help them prepare for their entrance exams for UA.”

            She wasn’t sure she’d heard that quite right. All Might? THE All Might? Training her son with this other boy from another school? All she could be was flustered as she invited the number one hero into her home as one of Izuku’s birthday guests.

            He must be ecstatic, she thought.

            But something seemed different. All Might was standing here in the doorway, taking in the humble Midoriya home, and Izuku was excitedly bolting down the hall to show Shigeo something in his room. The warmth from before returned to Inko’s chest. She pressed her hands to her heart and did her best not to audibly sigh. This was an unfamiliar sight, yes, but it was a welcome one. However this unlikely trio had met, it was for the best that they’d done so.

            “Is everything all right, Mrs. Midoriya?”

            Inko jumped a little at the sound of All Might’s voice breaking the silence. She turned and gave him a polite smile and nodded.

            “Yes, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just grateful to see that Izuku has a friend. He’s had such trouble making friends, especially since we found out he was Quirkless.”

            All Might nodded.

            “I’m sure that was hard for you both,” he said. “Young Midoriya is a selfless soul. He needs people around him who care about him deeply because of this. I can already tell that Kageyama will be someone he can depend on when he needs support.”

            She wanted to believe that more than anything. All of his life, Izuku had wanted nothing more than to be a hero. Being a true hero was a very selfless act. He wanted to put his life on the line for those in need, just as All Might did. The number one hero was right—those who were the most selfless often needed someone else to care about them for them. Izuku was no exception to that. If this Kageyama Shigeo could truly take on the role of a true friend for him, it would put Inko’s heart at ease.

            The boys looked happy as they sat around the table to partake of the birthday dinner. Inko watched as they dug into their meals, both almost immediately expressing their gratitude a second time to her once they’d tasted it. After they’d talked for a bit about their training regimen for the day between themselves, Inko finally found the courage to insert herself into the conversation.

            “So, Kageyama, what kind of Quirk do you have?” she asked.

            He hummed for a moment, as if contemplating the best way to answer the question. Then, he lifted his hand over the table, and one of the dishes started to float a few inches over another one. It was very similar to Inko’s own Quirk, if she had to say.

            “I suppose you could call it telekinesis,” Kageyama said. “It’s not just lifting things in the air like this, though.”

            Izuku nodded enthusiastically.

            “You should see how much he can lift!” he exclaimed. “I bet Shige could lift a whole building!”

            The boy blushed a bit and scratched the back of his head.

            “Maybe…” he mumbled.

            Inko just laughed.

            “I’m sure you’ll get into UA with a Quirk like that,” she said.

            Kageyama tilted his head to the side.

            “Well, I still don’t feel like I have everything it takes to be a hero,” he said. “That’s why I’m training with Izuku to continue improving my body and my powers. I want to make sure that I can avoid hurting people with my powers.”

            His statement sounded as though there was something deeper about this in his mind. Izuku and Kageyama were complete opposites in terms of Quirks; Izuku wanted to help people even without a Quirk, but this boy had a very powerful Quirk and wanted to improve himself despite that Quirk. Perhaps, deep down, the two were more alike than she realized. Perhaps this was why they became friends. Izuku placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a smile.

            “We’ll improve our bodies together,” he said.

            Kageyama smiled back at him and nodded.

            “Yeah,” he said. “We will.”

            Inko glanced over at All Might. He was beaming brightly at the two boys, clearly proud of their drive to better themselves.

            “So, Kageyama, what made you want to become a hero?” Inko asked. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

            Kageyama shook his head.

            “No, not at all,” he said.

            He paused for a moment, clearly putting some thought into his answer.

            “I’ve thought a lot about what to do with these powers,” he said. “At times I’ve used them to impress people, but I’ve learned that it takes more than powers to earn someone’s favor. That’s why I want to be the best person I can be. I have these powers for a reason, and if using them to save lives is the best use of who I am and what these powers are, then I should strive to use them for that purpose.”

            It was evident from his words that Kageyama strove for one thing: to be a good person with people who appreciated him surrounding him. He and Izuku were compatible in this way. Izuku’s heart was open to everyone, and Kageyama’s desire was to be close to someone. Even if those weren’t the exact words Kageyama had used, Inko could see through it. She was grateful that Izuku had made a friend who sought true friendship regardless of Quirks.

            Her gratitude only increased as the evening passed by. After dinner, she, Kageyama, and All Might all presented Izuku with a small gift. The two boys played a few games while Inko set up birthday cake, and they excitedly hurried back to the table to grab a slice. Inko asked a few more questions about Kageyama’s life, and he humbly filled her in on some details while skirting around others. By the end of the evening, she felt as though she’d learned a little bit about her son’s friend, even if it wasn’t everything she was curious about. As the two guests stepped out of the door to leave, she gave them both a bow.

            “Thank you both so much for coming to celebrate Izuku today,” she said.

            The pair waved their hands.

            “Of course!” All Might said. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to celebrate with my students!”

            Kageyama nodded.

            “It was a lot of fun,” he said. “Thank you for having us.”

            Inko shook her head back at him.

            “No, Kageyama, truly,” she said, “thank you. Thank you for being a true friend to my son. Can you promise me something?”

            The boy smiled and dipped his head politely.

            “Please support Izuku as you continue this journey together,” she said. “He needs a strong friend to support him. He needs support in ways that I nor your mentor can support him in. Can you do that for me? And for Izuku?”

            With a smile, Kageyama nodded his head.

            “One hundred percent,” he said. “I will have Izuku’s back no matter what.”

            Even after the boy was gone, and Inko was alone with her thoughts, Kageyama’s words warmed her heart. Izuku had found a true friend. She clutched a pillow to her chest and did her best not to cry. It felt as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She had long guilted herself for Izuku’s Quirklessness, and because of that, she guilted herself on his lack of friends. But now, he had someone who would stay by his side on his journey to becoming a hero.

            “Thank you, Kageyama Shigeo,” she whispered.

            For she could rest easy now, knowing that Izuku had one more person caring for him.

[brexiiton]

Seven bikie associates guilty of murdering spray painter in Adelaide's north

By Jacob Shteyman, 2:54pm Oct 10, 2023

As spray painter Jason De Ieso worked away in his auto repair workshop, he was oblivious to a group of figures concealed in hoodies and masks striding purposely towards him across the shop's sun-drenched car park.

The expectant father had never met the approaching men - some carrying sawn-off shotguns, another wielding a metal bar - but in a moment they would murder him in cold blood.

After a mammoth five-month trial, a Supreme Court jury on Tuesday found seven men guilty of De Ieso's murder at his Pooraka business in North Adelaide on November 21, 2012.

Jason De Ieso was shot dead in November 2012. (SA Police)

They are Musa Alzuain, 30, his brothers Husain Alzuain, 36, and Mohamed Alzuain, 32, as well as Daniel Mark Jalleh ,34, Ross William Montgomery, 38, Kyle Lloyd Pryde, 35, and Nicholas Sianis, 36.

But despite deliberating for more than 30 hours, the jury could not reach a verdict of Seywan Moradi, 36.

Declaring there was no prospect of coming to an agreement, Justice Brian Martin discharged the jury of their responsibility.

A ninth suspect has since died.

The bystander was killed at his workshop at Pooraka in Adelaide in 2012. (Nine)

CCTV footage of the incident played during the trial showed four men at the head of the group approaching the shop's roller door in an arrangement prosecutor Jim Pearce KC described as a "firing squad".

Musa Alzuain, a former Olympic boxing hopeful, was fingered as the man responsible for pulling the trigger.

He was 19 at the time.

De Ieso's brother Dino said he was "a son, a brother, a husband, a father to be, a friend to many" who went to work on November 21 and never returned home.

"The scenes and events of that day have changed the lives of many," Dino said.

"All the staff who attended work that day have been left physically and mentally scarred."

De Ieso was described as an innocent man, senselessly slaughtered in the crossfire of a deadly gang war.

The nine men were associates of the Hells Angels motorcycle gang and had been embroiled in an escalating conflict with their rivals - the Finks.

A Supreme Court jury on Tuesday found seven men guilty of De Ieso's murder. (9News)

The violence, which began in May 2011, included public brawls, drive-by shootings and a home invasion in which the young son of a bikie was shot in the leg.

It all culminated in the fire-bombing of the Alzuain brothers' family home the day before the attack.

The men received a tip-off that their target, a Finks member, was at the Pooraka workshop, but they missed him by a matter of minutes and killed Mr De Ieso instead.

Justice Martin exempted the jury from all future jury service, given the extent of disruption the case brought to their lives.

"You did your job well and be satisfied in that knowledge that you've done the job well and served your community," he said.

The seven guilty men were given a mandatory sentence of life imprisonment.

They will face court on December 11 for hearings regarding how long their non-parole periods will be.

Moradi will face court again on October 23.

Full statement from Jason De Ieso's family

Jason De leso, he was a son, a brother, a husband, a father to be, a friend to many, who went to his workplace on November 21, 2012 and never returned home to loved ones.

He was an innocent man going about his business and he had his life cut short by a cowardly and despicable, inhumane act.

Was his crime going to work that day doing what he loved? 

No one should feel unsafe when attending their place of work.

The scenes and events of that day have changed the lives of many. All the staff who attended work that day have been left physically and mentally scarred. 

What they witnessed was unimaginable.

Though none of the guilty have shown any remorse, may they one day know the actions they all undertook were uncalled for. 

Yes the events of the night before would be enough to make any family distraught, but understand this… Jason was innocent and had absolutely nothing to do with any of the events mentioned in this trial, nor was he a member of any outlaw motorcycle group.

In respect of the accused where the jury was unable to reach a verdict, we hope the justice system continues to seek answers and prosecute those who are yet to be held to account.

This ordeal has been mentally and physically challenging, as I'm sure it has been for the families of the offenders.

No family should need to endure such grief, pain, or loss. Our lives have changed forever, to have lost Jason in the way we did is something you never wish to live.

Jason, you will always be in our hearts, always cherished, never forgotten, your infectious smile, humour, kindness and connection you had with all was unique.

May you finally now rest in peace.

On behalf of Jason's family and friends, a special thanks and gratitude go to all the team from Major Crime for their ongoing efforts, support and endless hours that they dedicated to solving this case as well as the team from the DPP for the endless hours they have put into the prosecution.

I would also like to thank the many witnesses who had the courage to give evidence in the trial.

A special thanks to victim contact officer, Debbie Gibson, for her ongoing support to me and my family through this traumatic ordeal.

I now ask that the privacy of my family is respected and I won't be answering any questions at this time.

[cinturon-cadena]

Yes they are! (at least, I make them....)

Here are the two that I've made in all my years in the Phandom:

I never named her, but the premise behind her was that she (and her Siblings) got caught up in the first Fright Knight Halloween and got sucked into the Ghost Zone with the rest of the Haunted Halloween stuff at the end of the episode. Over time, she and her Siblings became gradually more and more Liminal until they were full-on Ghosts! They even have their own Lair that they co-rule. Her colour palate is forest green clothes with purple skin and a dark purple staff.

Here is my more recent:

Their name is Jack Lurker (They/Them) as a Ghost and Jaqueline Lancer (She/Her) as a human. They're 100% my shameless self-indulgent Half-Ghost OC self-insert.

Very long post explanation under the cut.

They are an exchange student who is Mr. Lancer's distant cousin (or something) and is in Jasmine's class for a year. After hanging out at the Fenton's a couple of times to study with Jasmine, they learned about the Drs Fenton's ghost research and became curious about their lab.

One day she went over to study with Jazz only to find the house empty (Phantom got caught up in a huge ghost fight on the other side of town and the Drs Fenton followed after him. Jazz is with Sam and Tucker trying to simultaneously help Danny fight the ghost whilst also foiling the Drs Fenton's attempts to capture Phantom).

Cue shenanigans.

Of course, by this point, Jaqueline (or Jackie) is quite comfortable hanging out at the Fenton's place. So she hangs out for a bit until the family gets back. After an hour, she gets impatient and decides that now is a great time to go snooping in their super cool ghost lab!

The power is off in the ghost portal (because last week when she got the tour, she questioned why they didn't just turn off the portal to minimize the amount of ghosts that got through and they realized she had a good point). She starts messing around with the equipment and is a huge science nerd so of course she tries on a jumpsuit!

And a lab coat.....

And goggles!

...... aaaaaand also why not see how many Fenton Tech gadgets she can fit on the belt....

Then she starts horsing around with the Fenton Bazooka (because it's a big cool sci-fi gun and she looks like an awesome Mad Scientist- why wouldn't she mess with it??). She's not stupid, of course; she's not going to actually fire it. She just... pretends to.

So she's messing around 'firing' at imaginary targets around the room when she ends up making her way into the empty portal. Which is also super cool. She pretends to fire at the far wall but-

Well, she might be a little stupid. She never actually took her finger away from the trigger. So of course this is the time when she accidentally actually puts pressure on the trigger and it fires-

Right into the ON/OFF switch on the inside of the portal.

The recoil is very big and sends her flying into the opposite wall onto a circular outjutting just in time to get electrocuted and deep fried in super-charged plasma! (This is relevant because it gives them a circular Lichtenburg scar on their back).

The rest is history!

Because they had a bunch of ecto-plasm-based weapons on their belt at the time, their exposure was more concentrated than Danny's. This doesn't make them more powerful than Danny (they're actually quite weaker then him), but it does account for why their appearance is so much more ghostly.

After a couple days of freaking out and suffering with their ghostly side affects, they go to the Drs Fenton for help. They freak out at first but eventually agree to help 'cure' them. (The Fenton parents are canonically very supportive and accepting of Danny in the 3 episodes when his secret is blown, and Jack Fenton even agrees to work with Phantom after he captures him in order to help his family).

So Jack/Jaqueline help the Drs Fenton with their research and as a result Jack/Jaqueline develops an obsession for Ecto-technology, Science, and Discovery. They become, as one might say, a Jack-of-all-Trades.

They specialize in defensive combat and primarily use ecto-weapons when attacking. They're unable to Duplicate or use some of the more advanced powers of Halfas, but they're excellent with Ghost Shields and have very limited Technopathic abilities (no where near Technus, but they can remote-control tech as if they had the remote/controller).

They also have an Acid Core (I haven't decided what their cool Special Move:tm: should be yet though), and their ectoplasm manifests as purple for offence abilities and orange for defence abilities.

Oh yeah! Also Jack Lurker and Danny Phantom have no idea that the other is a Halfa (because it's funny), and due to this miscommunication Vlad Plasmius sneaks in to do a little 'mentoring' of the newest Halfa himself (the evil, 'I am your Mentor and you are my Perfect Pawn but don't know that' kind). (They also don't tell the Drs Fenton about this- so many secrets! So many opportunities for (in)convenient misunderstandings!!)

At one point, they become more interested in developing their Technopathic abilities under a mentor, and Vlad convinces Skulker to convince Technus to help them.

Technus doesn't help them.

Turns out, Jack's Acid Core is the perfect power source for Technus' new super-robot battle suit! So guess who gets turned into a (half-)living battery!!?

Yeah, it's not pretty. The town needs all-hands-on-deck in order to defeat Technus. Phantom has to work together with Red Huntress, Plasmius, and even the Drs Fenton in order to defeat him. In the process of freeing Jack, they discover that Jack is, in fact, a Halfa as well.

Usually the aftermath of this battle changes depending on where I want to go with the story. In one version, they're too late and even though they defeat Technus, his suit was volatile enough to crack the fabric of Reality and now both Earth and the Ghost Zone are destabilizing out of Existence.

In another version, Phantom is killed and Jack is exiled from Amity, both out of guilt and because the Drs Fenton drive them out, blaming them for their son's death (they find out at Danny's death that he's a Halfa).

Are ghostsonas a thing? Do people make those?

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE MEETING- STUCKY X READER

Pairing: CEO! Stucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Your boss Mr. Rogers is a mean mean man, but you find he has a sweet spot- just for you. Perks of the job? He’s hot. And his best friend is too. ;)

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, pet names, size kink, choking, fingering, shoe riding, slapping, spitting, ring kink, masturbation with Y/N’s panties oop- ,praise kink, degradation kink, squirting, daddy/ sir kink, this is pure filth LMAO

Notes: This is SO filthy. Probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. Also Steve and Bucky are both 6′4 with tattoos. Yes I am a whore. Buckle in tight hotties!!

-claire 

The sound of your heels echoed through the stone-cold hallway, bouncing off the crisp white ceilings back onto the marble floor. Calls being answered, fax machines printing, keys being clicked were all muffled behind closed doors. Floor-to-ceiling windows guide you to your main objective, Steve’s office.

 Steve Rogers, the CEO of Rogers Industries.

 Intimidating wasn't even the right word to describe him, he was- something else. Something you couldn't quite explain. His deep voice was enough to make you tremble at the knees, his ice cold stare seemed to pierce right through your soul. It was enough to make you gaze over at the city that bustled below you, allowing the trickle of the rain that splattered down the windows to distract you from the thoughts of what lingered behind the massive door the loomed ahead of you at the end of the hall. 

Yes, he was a rather frightening man, but he paid well. Not to mention he looked like a god Eros had carved himself. Some of his employees had warned you of the man when you came in for your interview, whispering things to you as you walked towards this very office. 

He was demanding. He could be cruel. He scarred any man who glance his way for a second too long. 

Yet here you were, as his personal assistant. With a hard glance over your resume, a few questions asked and a background check for good measure, you were getting fetching his daily coffee and scheduling his meetings. You had worked for the man a long time, you knew his moods and his actions well. He was a hard book to read, closed firmly with a lock and key- but you had managed to read his body language well enough. 

Which is exactly why you were shitting bricks currently, knowing exactly how he would react to the news you had to bring him.

 Steve's number one enemy wanted a meeting with him, as soon as possible to discuss stats and stock targets. Rumlow was a handful, and powerful men like Steve did not want to deal with him. But someone had to. And that sure as hell would not be you. 

With a deep breath and a prayer to the heavens above, you attempted to stabilise your shaking hand as you knocked lightly on the mahogany door. “Come in.” a gruff voice sounded from the other side of the door, and you obeyed. With a creak, you popped your head in to see Steve hang up the phone, head nodding for you to shut the door behind you. “ Mr. Rogers.” you nodded quickly in acknowledgement, fingers toying with the paperwork you had in your hands from nerves. 

“ Can I help you Miss.Y/L/N?” You step over to his large desk quickly, his eyes glancing up from his paperwork to meet yours, gaze hard and cold. “ Just need these signed.” He nodded once and you set them down on top of the other papers he had scattered across his desk gingerly. He looked up once more.

 “ Anything else?” Steve’s voice was laced with annoyance, and you carefully took a step back, heels sounding like gunshots against the marble. 

“ I- um. Well yes actually sir, Mr. Rumlow wanted-” The room was dead silent, so quiet you swore he could hear your heart threatening to hammer out of your chest. “ Mr. Rumlow wanted what?” His voice was calm and collected, cool as ice. 

Too calm. A storm was brewing, and you didn't want to be around for the aftermath.

 “ He um. He wanted to have a meeting with you concerning clients Friday evening.” you trailed off, noticing his hands clench harder around the pen he wrote with, signing off his name with a scribble. “ Fine. That will be all Y/L/N.” Steve handed you back your papers, fingers touching yours. You shivered at the contact, snatching them quickly. “ Thank you sir.” 

Flustered with his presence, you quickly scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind you with a click. 

Was it hot in here? It was definitely hotter. The heat had been cranked up for sure. 

Gripping the papers tight to your chest, you wasted no time getting back to your desk, away from the door you were currently leaning against. Steve Rogers was a very powerful man. Very powerful indeed. Fear swirled in your gut, along with something else. 

Admiration? Arousal?

 Whatever it is, you craved it. As you plopped down in your chair, kicking your legs up on your desk there was only one thing on your mind. 

Him.

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

It was wrong. It was selfish. It was stupid.

 But God help him, he was attracted to you. Ever since you had stepped foot in his office, head held high and proud, he had been captivated by your essence. Every day it was becoming harder and harder to focus on his work whenever you came in to give him the rundown for the day, or to get papers signed. His thoughts swirled with the thought of you. And the way you looked today… the control was getting harder and harder to rein in by second. 

The way your breasts popped out slightly from the white blouse you wore when you leaned over to hand him the papers, the way your tiny hand brushed his, the way your ass was framed perfectly in that pencil skirt. And the way you reacted to him, don’t even get him started on that. The way you’d say “sir”, the way you’d get flustered and fidgety when he stared at you for too long. It made his cock twitch in his pants. 

Steve had so much control over you, it made him feel like a teenage boy all over again. You’d be so obedient for him, such a good girl, moldable as putty in his ring-littered hands.

 The strain was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore.

 Checking to make sure the door was firmly locked, and curtains were drawn shut, he riffled through papers upon his desk and found his keys which gained him access to his drawers. Inserting the key in the lock, he opened his bottom drawer, containing his most prized possessions. 

With a sigh, he pulled out the black lace thong he snagged from your locker a few weeks prior after hours. Palming himself over his slacks, he brought the fabric up to his nose, letting out a moan as your scent wafted through his nose. 

Steve wasted no time unbuttoning his pants, eyes rolling back as he inhaled again, his cock springing free, heavy and hard in his hand.

 The way you’d beg for him, hand and knees as he ruthlessly pounded into you, the noises and whimpers you’d make as he’d lick your pussy, sucking firmly on your little bud… he began to pump faster. 

Steve needed you, more than he needed anything in his life. You were his for the taking. His. No one else’s. No one else could treat you the way you deserved, no one could make you wither and buck your hips up in pleasure as he could. 

You were so small compared to him, he pin you down across his desk with ease, fuck you so hard he was in your guts. 

With a grunt, he came all over his hand, pants emitting from his parted lips as he came down from his high.

 You were going to be his, he decided. If you liked it or not. 

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

The meeting was a mess. You could tell by the way Rumlow stormed out of the conference room, spewing out every curse word in the book. “ You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Steve's right-hand man Bucky called after him, rolling his eyes with a huff.

 “ Hey dolly, how have ya been?” he asked, jogging over to the couch you were sitting on. You had decided it was a good idea if you stayed late tonight, getting Steve his usual coffee and calming him down after the meeting. Nothing but nerves coursed through your body after seeing Rumlow’s little act, you were perched at the edge of your seat, legs bouncing with anticipation. 

“M’good Mr. Barnes. Did it go okay?” you smiled weakly up at him and he nodded. “ Don’t worry your pretty little head bout it. Steve will be out soon.” he cooed, rubbing his hand on your shoulder gently. “Okay.” you murmured, hands flitting with the hem of your pencil skirt, your nylons feeling like a second skin as you twiddled nervously. 

“ I’ll see ya around doll.” he winked and you waved with a smile as he turned down the hall to go to his office. 

Click.

 The door opened slowly, and your gaze slithered over to Steve, stepping slowly out the room with a huff. His white button-down was ruffled, his tie loosened and his dark blue suit undone.

 “Did it go good?” you hurried out of your seat to examine the man, your worried gaze flickering over him for any injuries. Rumlow could get quite violent when things didn't go his way, and more than once did you see little bruises coat Steve’s knuckles. 

“It was shit. As planned. Why are you still here Y/N?” he asked quietly, and you looked up to meet his cool gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” you murmured, fingers itching to fix the white handkerchief that spilled out of his suit pocket. Unprofessional! Your mind screamed at you, and you quickly placed your hands at your sides as if you had been electrocuted. His eyebrow raised suspiciously, and you stared down at the ground. 

You were fucked. Utterly fucked. 

You realised how vulnerable you looked, waiting for him to finish the meeting, looking over him like a mother hen. 

But Steve didn't tell you to go home. He didn't tell you that you were being unprofessional. A small little smile gleamed on his face as he saw your cheeks redden.

 “ That’s very sweet buttercup.” 

Your legs clenched at the nickname, the way it rolled off his tongue. Steve’s voice was so deep, so full of control and command, you’d do anything he asked of you. You wondered if it was the same way in the bedroom, if he’d be rough and mean, or if he’d whisper praises in your ear as you’d take all of him, his girth stretching you out…

 “ Come.” 

It wasn’t a question or an invitation,  it was a command. You obediently trailed behind him as he turned to walk down the hallway, his long strides causing you to nearly jog to keep up. Steve was much taller than you, sometimes breaking his mean demeanour to tease at your size compared to his. He was 6’4 and built of pure muscle, always towering over you. Even with the heels you wore, giving you an extra inch of height, you only met his upper chest. 

It was quiet as the two of you made way to his office, the only noise being the sound of your flats clicking, as you strived to match his pace. You felt even smaller compared to him with no heels, no boost of confidence through the height. 

Peering up at him, you wondered if he knew that, if he knew his size made you feel small and sometimes even frightened. 

Like now. 

You had no idea what he would do or say in his office after that meeting, and you were terrified. The door lingered at the end of the hallway like a beacon. 

There was no rain today, you noted, the sky dark. Moonlight shimmered through the windows, the city glowing under you. 

What would happen behind closed doors? You wondered, getting closer and closer to the end of the hallway.

 You were soon to find out, it seemed. 

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

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the coffee you had planted on his desk during the meeting. “ I figured you’d want something after that, I know how annoying Rumalow is. It’s probably cold now. I'm sorry I can go to warm it up.” 

You trotted over to his desk to pick up the drink, but a firm, large hand was placed atop yours. His blue eyes softened at the sight of you, and he shook his head.

 “ No need buttercups. Thank you.”

 Feathers were the only thing you could think of as he murmured his appreciation, Steve's voice seemed gentler, somehow. Still deep and rough yes, but when he spoke to you now, it was softer. Almost as if he was scared you’d leave him alone in his office.

 His gaze was so intense you thought you were drowning in the baby blues, the way the dim lights placed around the room made them glow. Flickering down you noticed the rings on his fingers, the chill they gave you as he stroked your hand slowly. 

Suddenly, he loosened his tie even more, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down. You were dumbstruck. 

Holy. Fuck. 

His toned arms were littered with tattoos, they wrapped around his forearm and arms, curling up to his biceps. Realising you were staring, you averted your gaze back up to meet his face, stumbling back slightly. He smirked. 

The bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

This was wrong, very wrong, but you couldn’t move. Steve’s finger beckoned you over to his side of the desk, a gleam in his eye. You swallowed. 

Oh shit. 

Slowly, you made your way over, Steve standing behind you, contempt. A hand came up to drape your hair across your shoulder, causing you to shudder. Goosebumps broke out across your skin as you were now very aware of how little fabric was separated between the two of you. 

“Reactive little thing aren’t you?” he murmured softly in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

 Steve's firm hands slid up to stroke your sides gently with his fingers, his touch captivating you. Your brain was turning to mush at his presence, and you were scared to open your mouth because you knew a jumbled mess would come out.

 “ If I tell you a secret, can you keep it buttercup? Just something for the two of us honey?” You nodded frantically. You’d do anything he asked of you, you decided, feeling any dry spot on your panties disappear. “ Every single day at this very desk, I think of all the things I want to do to you. How you’d take everything I give you like a good girl.” He nipped at your neck, kissing the bite mark and you whimpered. 

“ You’ll be such a good girl for me won’t you honey? You wanna make Mr. Rogers happy?” You moaned at his words alone. 

“Yes sir.” you panted and a growl rumbled through his throat, causing you to shiver again.

 Rising to his full height, he grasped your chin in his hand, jerking it up so you peered up at him, eyes frantic. “Open.” His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you obeyed. Looking down on you, he smiled at your obedience. 

“ You obey so quickly button. Just wanna please me hm?” 

Moans escaped your mouth as he spits on your tongue, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your tongue to mix his saliva with yours. Clenching around nothing, you began to get desperate.

You couldn’t help it.

 The sight of him above you, the feeling of his thumb on your tongue, the waterworks start to flow. Peering up at him, you began to let the tears slowly drip down your flushed cheeks as he continued to smear his saliva across your lips. Tears began to mix with spit, and you feel mascara slowly start to stain your cheeks. 

A deep chuckle rumbled through him as he looked at your desperate state below him. “ You’re so pretty when you cry little buttercup. Tell daddy what you need.”

 “N-need you down there please need you!” you mewled, beginning to suck on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it. “Down where honey? Down at your little nub? You need the pleasure relieved?” He tsked, bringing his hand down to trace a finger on your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to your aching cunt. You nearly moaned at the relief of his finger being so near. Steve began to inch closer and closer, fingers just brushing the fabric of your panties. It sent jolts through your body, and you jumped. 

He tsked again, twisting your around to face him and hoist you onto the desk. A gasp left your lips as his hands began to inch off your thong, the cool air on your cunt making you sensitive. “These clothes just won’t do buttercup.” he shoke his head, pooling them onto the floor and stepping back to admire his handiwork. 

“Spread em baby- gooood.” he cooed as you slowly parted your legs, baring yourself to him. With a lick of his lips, he stared you down like a predator meeting its prey. Your juices began to seep down to puddle of the desk and he grinned.

 “ Your pretty little button’s quivering buttercup. Ya know, what my favourite part about her is?” Time blurred and shape back again as he stepped closer and his thumb met your clit, applying pressure and rubbing little circles. “ Is that she’s so sensitive.” he cooed gently and you threw your head back. 

“Shhh honey I know, I know but we gotta get her warmed up first.” His pace began to quicken, his finger slowly pushing inside your entrance. Steve nearly moaned at the feeling, the tightness. The idea of how tight you’d feel around his cock almost had him jizzing in his pants. 

“Goooood girl.” He cooed as he began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, thumb applying more pressure to your clit. Your walls began to flutter around him, the coil in your belly about to snap. Whines left your mouth as you began to buck your lips slowly, emitting a deep chuckle for him. 

“I see we’ve found the favourite spot didn't we buttercup?” 

Little pants and “ahs” left your lips as you began to grind down on his hand, desperate for his fingers to reach that spot again. “Daddy need to come s’please!” you were a blubbering mess, tears still continuing to fall. 

“ Cum for me honey.” 

That was all it took. Your vision went white as you clamped around him, spraying across his beard and forearms. “Ohh goddd!” you cried, his finger began to slow and slip out of your soaked cunt. 

“S’hottest thing I’ve ever seen god.” he mumbled, beginning to unbuckle his pants. “Gonna fill you up baby, you wanna be my toy? Wanna be my little doll hmm?”

 “Please please-” you begged, mouth watering at the sight of his cock. 

It was big. Really big. 

His hands grasped your thighs and you squealed as he yanked you to the very edge of his desk, wasting no time ripping your shirt clean off. Buttons scattered everywhere and you mewled under his predatory gaze, taking in every inch of you. 

“Oh I’ve hit the jackpot with you buttercup.” he moaned, slowly unclasping your bra and exposing your peaked nipples to the chill air. “Better than I’ve been dreaming bout baby.” Steve’s hands came up to kneed your aching breasts, tugging and toying with each nipple, causing you to cry out. 

“Please Daddy just need you!” you cried, lip quivering as he smacked your tit, leaving a red mark. “Well since you asked so nicely.” Steve wasted no time unleashing his full length into you, hitting home. 

You screamed,  not caring if anyone heard. It was too good. The feelings were incredible, and Steve knew exactly what you needed. You had never felt so full in your life, clenching around him like a madwoman. “Tight little thing.” he growled, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. 

Little “ahs” escaped your lips each time he pumped harder into you, your hands seeking out his biceps to grip onto tightly. “Such a good little cumdump.” he cooed, feeling your walls clench around him even tighter. “Oh, she liked that, didn’t she? You like being my little cumdump hm? My little toy?” 

“Yes Daddy!” you wailed, eyes rolling back in your head and he chuckled.

 Knock knock knock.

“Well It appears we have a little visitor now don't we?” Steve cooed down at you, watching your eyes widen in alarm.

 “Come in.” he drawled, and the door opened with a creek. “Well, what do we have here hmm?” 

Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. The Brooklyn accent, sweet as honey.

 “Now Buck, you know I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” Steve growled as Bucky pulled up a chair to sit in front of the desk, watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

“Hi baby.” he cooed down at you, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly as Steve continued to ruthless pound into you. “ Daddy treating you well?” he asked and you let out a pornographic moan, Steve’s hand finding your throat and closing around it firmly. 

“ Cmon Stevie boy, we’ve been talkin about this pretty little thing for months now. Don’t you think I deserve a turn once you’re done?” 

Your mind went blank. They’ve been talking about you? Somehow that thought turned you on even more, your release in an arms reach, coming closer and closer. Steve knew that.

 “Keep talkin Buck, she likes it.” 

Bucky chuckled, smile turning predatory. “You’re so pretty doll, just wanna stuff my cum down your throat until you cry.” Something about the way he said something so vulgar, something so dirty with the voice of an angel as if he were telling you you had a cut and he was giving you instructions on how he’d patch it up made you squirm. You were needy.

 “We just wanna see you cum for us, wanna see your pretty little legs shake even more than they are now.” he cooed, Brooklyn accent thick and heavy. Your wails began to get frantic, and you were quite literally clawing Steve's biceps. 

It was too much. 

Your walls shattered as your walls fluttered around Steve, your juices squirting everywhere. With a rough thrust and a growl, he filled you up with his cum. “Good girl.” Steve whispered, watching your eyelashes flutter as you attempt to clear your fuzzy head.

 No use. You were a mess, thoughts a jumble.

 “Look at that Buck, she’s gone stupid. Little buttercup would let you do anything to her, she’s so stupid on cock. Just wanna be stuffed honey?” he drawled, slowly pulling out of you, watching your cum and his mix and drip down your thighs. A growl left his throat, his feelings of possession over you increase dramatically. 

Your poor legs were shaking as if you were electrocuted, your breathing coming in shallow pants. “Go see Mr. Barnes buttercup, it’s okay.” he instructed, helping you slowly slide of the desk and land on shaky legs. You took a step forward and he tsked, shaking his head. 

“Crawl honey.” 

Your heart raced, and you quickly dropped to the ground. A chuckle rumbled through Bucky’s body as you crawled around the desk to face him, peering up at him by his feet.

 “You think she’ll mind if I’m mean? Nothing personal dolly.” he winked down at you and you shivered. “Oh she’ll love it.” Steve began to adjust his tie, smiling down at you. 

Smack.

 A burning sensation was left on your left cheek, a red mark left in its wake. “Oh yeah, she loves it.” Bucky laughed, smacking your other cheek as you peered up at him, too far gone to speak. 

“Cmon make yourself feel good on my shoe honey. Need to work for it and then I can stuff you full of some cock yeah? Fill ya up till your leaking?” 

You scrambled on his shoe, beginning to rock your hips on it. The feeling of the leather on your clit has you gasping, your juices trickling smearing across it. 

“Like a bitch in heat.”

 He smacked your face lightly a few more times, causing you to cry out. “I’m going to have so much fun with you dolly.” he cooed, petting your hair gently as if he wasn’t just smacking you silly two seconds ago. “You’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?”

 “Yes Mr. Barnes.” you moaned, increasing your pace as he began to bounce his leg up and down.

 “ Dumb little cumdump…” he sighed, and Steve laughed. “ Be careful with that one Buck, she likes it more than she should.” 

“ That right?” You nodded frantically and he smiled, looking back up at Steve.   “ So about those stocks…”

[queenshelby]

The Policeman’s Daughter – Part One

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mention of Attempted Suicide and Abuse

Notes: The fic plays a year after Grace’s death. It will be quite dark as Tommy still struggles with PTSD and Grace’s death and the Reader has struggles of her own.

London, 1 August 1924

For the past three years, it has only been you and your father, living in London in a small suburban house.

Whilst you were in your early twenties, your father was very protective of you. You were his only child and you couldn’t stay out of trouble.

You had moved out of his house momentarily when your mother had passed away but soon had no choice but to return when the relationship you had formed with a young man at the time had turned bad.

Ever since your experience with that man, you lost faith and you lost trust. A year of abuse had gone unnoticed until the day your life had changed forever.

It was 1 August 1922 and you remembered that day, every day and every night. The nightmare you had to endure that day would stay with you forever. Every time you glanced into the mirror and saw this big scar across your stomach, you saw a stark reminder of that day. Every night you went to sleep, you were woken up by a nightmare, reliving exactly what happened to you to that day.

The worst of it all was that the man who did this to you and the men who watched walked free. He was the son of a judge who helped to cover it up. The abuse, the shooting, everything.

You were left with the burden of it all and, at one point several months ago, you even considered to leave this world behind, to join your mother wherever she was.

But your father, he saved you that day you tried to take your life and ever since then, he had his eyes on you, ensuring your safety.

Ironically, it was on 1 August 2024 that he made you a promise. A new life and a new home, in Birmingham.

‘Why Birmingham. It’s an industrial town. There is nothing there’ you wondered.

‘I have been assigned a new job, investigating a criminal syndicate in the area. I cannot tell you anything else about it. Its for your safety. But I have requested a house in the outskirts for us to stay at and security. It will be safe’ your father explained and you knew that he was probably right as, currently, he was investigating several killings in London and certainly had become a target.

Birmingham, 1 September 1924

Over the past two weeks, you made your new house a home.

Your father didn’t lie when he said that your new house was in the outskirts of the city. The nearest factory was a twenty-minute drive away and your property was surrounded by fields and bushland.

For days, you had been exploring the area, spent time at the nearby river, hunted and gathered.

‘I sometimes wish that your mother wouldn’t have taught you her customs’ your father chuckled when he finally found you.

You stood in front of him, your boots covered in dirt, leaves stuck in your hair while you prepared dinner outside over the campfire near the river.

‘Bi kashtesko merel i yag’ you said, pointing to the pile of wood besides him. But you knew that he had never learned your mother’s language.

‘You know, we do have an oven my love’ he laughed.

‘Doesn’t taste the same coming out of the oven’ you smiled, offering him a seat on the blanket besides the fire as you did.

‘I suppose you are right’ he said, taking some of the meat and vegetables.

‘When I was walking today, I came across an orphanage. It is on the hill a few miles from here. I was wondering if, perhaps, I could seek employment there’ you suggested to your father and, to your surprise, he was in agreement.

Birmingham, 5 September 1924

Your employment was approved within no time and, whilst the position didn’t pay well, it was satisfying to you to work with children in need.

The orphanage was established through the Grace Shelby Institute and housed over thirty children.

To your surprise, unlike there is with most orphanages you had visited and volunteered at, there was no involvement from the church.

It was well furnished, featured a large library and the children were well dressed.

There were two young children in particular who caught your interest. Their names were Adam and Lenny, two brothers who just loved to explore.

It was on your first day that they had, again, disappeared from the orphanage much to the disapproval of the educators, which the children called ‘aunts’

‘The twins are lost again’ one of the aunts said quickly just as she heard a car pull up in front of the orphanage.

‘They aren’t lost, they are exploring’ you said calmly, but the aunts weren’t calm at all as they watched a well dressed and very handsome man and a very attractive brunette woman step out of their grey Bentley.

‘Listen, I know where they might be. Let me fetch them, alright?’ you offered and the eldest aunt nodded quickly in approval before greeting the two well-dressed strangers.

‘Mr Shelby, Mrs Grey, please common with us’ the woman said and, just as she did, the man’s eyes locked with yours for a moment as he walked past. You couldn’t recall having ever seen eyes that intensively blue before. They were almost hypnotising.

After quickly collecting your thoughts, you made your way to the nearby forest and, just as you had expected, the twins were by the river.

You spent ten minutes with them, exploring and preparing them for the aunts’ disapproval for their behaviour, before winding them up and making them follow you back to the orphanage.

‘Next time, sneak out a little more carefully’ you said to them with gypsy tongue before giving them a wink and shewing them back inside, not expecting to be understood by the handsome stranger smoking besides the door.

‘They need to learn how to cover their tracks, eh?’ the man said in gypsy tongue and you swallowed harshly, embarrassed and concerned for your employment at the same time.

‘I am sorry, they just want to be outside, not cooped up in here. But I shouldn’t have suggested…’ you went on to say, but the stranger interrupted you.

‘There is no need to apologise Love. I am gypsy too, I understand’ the man said with a smile before introducing himself to you.

‘I don’t think we have met. My name is Thomas Shelby’ he said, shaking your hand.

‘Y/N YL/N’ you responded shyly before noticing the familiar surname. ‘Are you involved with the Grace Shelby Institute?’ you asked, looking at the sign displayed behind you.

‘Grace Shelby was my wife. Me and my family established the charity following her death’ the man explained.

‘I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such an intrusive question’ you murmured, but the man assured you that your question wasn’t intrusive at all.

You talked with the handsome stranger for quite some time before, eventually, the dark-haired woman came out of the building, ready to leave.

‘May I see you again Miss YL/N?’ the man then asked shamelessly, causing the woman, known by the name of Polly Grey, roll her eyes.

‘Yes, where?’ you said somewhat nervously. You were surprised when these words left your lips all so eagerly as, until now, you hadn’t built up the courage again to even consider involving yourself with a man.

‘I will find you’ the man said, winking at you as he did, before saying goodbye to you in gypsy tongue.

Tag List (Cillian):

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[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

[theanomily]

Continuation, for chapters 7 to end

Chapter Seven

I went from pity (foetal position) to admiration (voice resistance, "Look at me, do I look like someone who doesn't know everything there is to know about pain.") to revolt regarding Anastasia in the span of few pages. Favourite segment so far.

Also, was Anastasia projecting her own desires to revel in the suffering of others, was it an educated guess, or has Dr Nero actually been going to watch her in the flesh? The latter would kind of ruin the whole solitary confinement thing, but it would also make sense to want to have that kind of involvement in her capture given that she is intertwined with the whole Elena and my child situation

Please, please, please explain why block and tackle are being nice. PLEASE

Penny Lancaster. Lancaster. At least she wasn't forgotten?

New favourite setting- Queen of shadows Castle... oh, it's going to get blown up or something by Wright isn't it

So, um. Do only Nero, Diabolus, and Otto get dinner? The girls can starve I guess. Actually, they haven't been mentioned at all in otto's scenes this chapter, but I swear a separation wasn't established? Am I going insane?

OK, give the Queen a megaphone. Got it.

She keeps referring to family, but isn't she the only one? Ghost au, but the ghosts somehow can be destroyed by military attack?

Chapter Eight

Well, Nero and Raven are going to have matching scars now

...Anastasia is going to command Raven to torture Nero, isn't she?

I'd quite forgotten Nero was voice-resistant

Oh, so the Queen used to have whispers as her voice, rather than the roaring otto described. Interesting. I also want to know what this debt is.

ANIMUS :)

Animus-ing Anna are we?

Chapter Nine:

Well, this is embarrassing, but I have no idea what penny is trying to say about putting seven years of bad luck on Ms Leon.

And yes, there's Nero being tortured. Once again, I am cursing h.i.v.e.'s target age audience because I would love a Raven pov here

Wait, did penny not know about ms Leon and the experiment? Like she can't have thought she was born that way or that all cats are intelligent by human standards. Also it's kind of sad that Mr Walden clearly thought og h.i.v.e. fans had all stopped caring during the hiatus with all the little series recaps sprinkled in here. I know the other books aren't devoid of them, and i get why they have to exist, but it feels like there are a lot more in bloodline/they go on for longer

Staff going behind nero's back. I love

Also with how often tabitha has been giving wing shade for trying to escape implies that she's been doing it in class. "So, let's say you had to make your way to a submarine pen, this is how you don't get caught" but make it sound more Ms leon-y

Oh dear lord, it's like a vial of crack fic slipped in here and I am NOT complaining (referring to the Kali-human incident, the Queen commanding Shelby to be poilte, dictionary.com being featured)

And Mr Walden pulled through in that Nigel is at least standing up to his father. Thank god

Chapter Ten:

Coffee shop au but it's Francisco's Footcare

Oh so the queen does have whispers. That being said, with the amount of pages left, I don't think that's quite going to work

I love Anna ("Now, how did Anastasia put it earlier... outworn your usefulness")

And there's going to be more Annas :)

The Colonel dislikes cats confirmed?

BABY BEAR? GOLDILOCKS? please go back to popcorn shelby

Since I'm pretty sure everyone but otto complained about the texture of the suit, I think I can headcanon him as being hyposensitive to touch. I know Laura doesn't complain in the scene, but she's not the one basically telling the others to suck it up

Oh how I love being proven right two for two (suit malfunction, although I did think it would be otto and wing dealing with that to mirror the beginning of the book)

Due to spoilers, I know it won't happen but canon divergence where Anna makes Laura kill shelby and then makes otto torture Laura to death seemingly by his own decision, and then manipulates things such that wing kills otto "to save him from what he's become".

Chapter Eleven

Oh so they commit self-destruct on the volcano. I honestly like that idea more than Anna destroying it

Does Mr Walden have cats? Because he's totally correct, they would manage to bring down armed killer robots single-handedly

I get that there's a lot going on, but considering hive is basically a prison to penny (meaning she has no particular loyalty to it) and Laura was "responsible" for the disaster during the hunt, I was expecting much more of a dramatic reuinion between those two

Interesting that both otto and wing have been confronted with a raven not acting by her own will + somebody threatening to shoot her and otto had the more opposing reaction, despite wing being closer to her in bloodline than otto was to her in zero hour. Obviously, otto had been through animus, but wing's aversion to killing balances that back out.

Incorrect answers only: why has shelby attempted to break into nero's office? What foiled her plans?

I will be able to form coherent thoughts about the rest of this chapter in two to three business days. For now, we read onwards

Chapter Twelve

Now, we all know that Mr Walden only has a character yell out no when an unfavourable event happens towards their love interest (I am hoping so hard right now that I'm correct and am not implying any weird relationships with this statement). So uhh Franz likes Nigel confirmed?

(Rereading this, I realise that otto lets out probably the longest "no" of the series in OP when wing is shot. They are very much just friends. But I'm stubborn, so Franz likes Nigel confirmed).

So diabolus "you don't need to know how something works in order to break it" darkdoom has more destruction potential than his son

Aaand penny wants to abandon her childhood friend who did nothing wrong to her, even in her pov, but is amicable towards Laura. Got it

Otto had already established that Anna would enslave the world, not destroy it, because it's what he would do. In his encounter with her, he basically asks what's the point in taking over a destroyed world. Even seeing what she can do, what she's like, he seems to view himself as worse than her. Ouch.

Not going to lie, I was expecting more of a battle akin to the one against number one/Overlord in escape velocity. How did the animus give otto the voice? If it's intrinsic to the stuff and it was Overlord manipulating it such that only he had its power, it kind of implies that it was developed via using some sinistre descendents, perhaps only loosely related, as lab rats in order to manufacture it to begin with

I'm curious as to what torture Raven inflicted that nero's only reaction was to rub his wrists from the restraints. She had medical equipment, not anything like water to board him with. It's canon that the man was screaming. Obviously he wouldn't want to show pain to Raven given the circumstances, but not even a limp? His shirt sticking to blood? Due to not wanting to ruin this segment for myself, I will headcanon that due to their closeness, she might have been able to fight anna/Anastasia just slightly, just enough to hold back. Nero figured this out, given how he'd know how she'd typically torture (which i believe is confirmed in deadlock), and played up his screams.

RIP H.I.V.E.mind. RIP Elena portrait and Sinistre memorial.

Chapter Thirteen

Straight off the bat, I know this is a catch-up with our protagonists chapter, and in full disclosure, I hate when pieces of media do this. I think it's better to leave it to the imagination where they end up. As such, I don't know how much I'll ever have to say here

Wait. Is that Franz liking Nigel (or at least guys) confirmed? Goddamn, I never thought Mr Walden would have the guts

And it's certainly an... interesting narrative choice to have Nero abandon the fact that he knows damn well when elena died to be a typical father who forgets his child's birthday

Even if shelby left glove behind, let's be honest, she's sneaking off to go get some jewels every now and again

(I turn the page and am proven correct)

And just know that I am internally laughing at the idea of Laura becoming Oxbridge

This is a Bloodline "live react", but also not really because I'm posting my initial thoughts as I read in maybe two goes, depending on the time I can allocate to reading.

Disclaimer: The book has been out for two and a bit years. I hate surprises. Consequently, I know stuff. Specifically, I know that:

Otto "dies" // the volcano explodes. These are somehow linked?

The Queen of Shadows is a Sinistre who... exists // Raven is Nero's daughter. Again, these are somehow linked? Sidenote: hive fantasy au where there's a Nero, furan and sinistre kingdom/royalty

There's a scene in which Nero is tied to a bed?? And I think Anastasia is there?? (*squirts Mr Walden with water*)

There's some Anna kid/super-robot. I assume she wants to kill everyone (mood). Sidenote: given how similar her name is to Anastasia's, there's probably some connection there.

Ms. Leon gets her body back. Her cat's name is Kali.

Pietor has a "lurking heart."

*

Chapter One:

OK, opening with a scene of Nero + brandy into a flashback sequence... very Overlord Protocol. Wonder if that was intentional and if the books may be linked.

Nero is younger than I thought. Much younger.

"There's a fine line between being devoted and pathetic." Oh, I love Elena already.

Clumsy Max. That's all I have to say. See, I thought it was as he was bending to kneel when the shot happened, not bending to retrieve a fallen ring. It's kind of sweet that it's the one time we've seen him display nerves. And it killed his (finace? Girlfriend? Does the proposal count?), generating a Never Again type of instinct and the birth of the max we know and love

KILL ANASTASIA, MAX... oh, you IDIOT. Suppose plot gotta plot, eh?

Dr Higgs... why is that name familiar? Glass tanks. Did he work on Otto back in the day?

Laura seems much more bold than any other book. It's interesting, given that Deadlock has literally just happened.

Shelby's first line is an insult. Now that's the Shelby I love

This is wholesome (barring the implied make outs, of course), but Penny. What has happened to Penny?

Oh no, h.i.v.e.mind is thinking they're having a foursome, isn't he?

Chapter Two:

So Anna is Otto crossed with the Contessa. And the whole initial want to know stuff about her creator? Aka her "parents"? I'm sensing AU potential centred around a more human version of her, yearning for a family to find and slowly being driven into insanity/violence

Oh my god, max on holiday? It's him, he's being controlled by something.

I forget that Raven and diabolus are only friends/kind of close in fanfiction. I have no point to make here. It's just very jarring to read max saying to her that he'll do all the talking as though it's all a political battlefield.

Also, we should actually talk about max's daddy issues

Why is Franz a gym bro now? I suppose he inspired himself to try to attain his ninja alter ego via his newfound shooting skills. Still extremely out the blue. (Oooh, And They Were Study Buddies).

...That better not be the extent of Nigel's self-acceptance arc. Or else I'll have to dust off the old ffn account, and nobody wants that. Mr Walden, my guy, I'm counting on you.

Anna, will you take my hand in marriage?

Ouch, Zero really did just exist to be told "a copy is never as good as the original" and then to have his successor be even better than him.

Chapter Three

Excuse me, I know Otto points it out immediately, but Wing advocating for more aggression? Interesting. Makes sense in context- a simulation, in which he would have been the one getting hurt if they took a more aggressive approach. I wonder if that's going to come into play, perhaps the other way around, in a real situation?

Are they really not going to say what this security flaw is? Damn, poor hive'll never learn

Chapter Four

Why are block and tackle being nice? Wing's right, this is a complete parallel universe

..or perhaps not. Only shelby would dare picture Nero in tights.

Page 66 and hive is already fucked. What I'm hearing is Cypher was a complete amateur

CYPHER BOTS :)

Chapter Six

We are nine books in, and let's be honest. Dr Scott isn't the chief medic, he's the only medic

I forgot to jot down anything for c5, but if I forgot, then I can't have had anything particularily noteworthy to say.

Here, I do find it quite interesting that Anna referred to guns as nasty. Reminds me of those really convoluted family trees in which wing is related to otto (and, by extention, anna) via his parents working on Overlord.

Damn, looks like a united glove isn't good news at all for max right now

Also, I'm still really wondering if Mr Walden just straight up forgot about Penny

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[nancydfan]

I think that Mia gets too bad of a rap from a lot of people.

Like yes, was she an agent of a super shady organization responsible for making a bio weapon that destroyed a great deal of lives? Yes. However we don’t know her motivation for joining them yet.

They could have lied honestly. Like The Connections could have advertised themselves to be a great, loving work environment and maybe Mia was young and naive and joined them. Or maybe she was desperate for money, and it was the only job that would hire her. Or hell, maybe she fully knew what they were and joined anyway, either on account of her morals being twisted back then or thinking that even though the company was evil maybe she could do good. Who knows, honestly.

Either way, with The Connections being a shady organization there’s like a very high chance that you don’t get to walk away from them alive. I’m sure if you quit they’d see you as a liability and take you out with no mercy. And that’s why I think Mia didn’t leave, because she knew she would be killed if she did, and maybe that’s why she took the job with Eveline, because it was more of a “you will do this or else” than an option for her (whether it was implied by her boss or if they were upfront about what bad things would happen if she didn’t take the job).

And maybe if her morals were twisted before I fully think meeting and falling in love with Ethan changed her if that was the case, because the Mia we see in RE7 and RE8 is a good person. We see that in how when the Baker’s rescue her she thanks them but tries to leave immediately and tries to warn them about staying away from Eveline (as shown in the note she left in the dlc “Daughters”). She could have tried to get them to call the hospital or her company but she didn’t, because she knew that she was under Eveline’s control and the longer she stayed there the more danger the family was. If she was a shitty person she wouldn’t have done this, she would have done everything she could to save herself.

We also see that in how she leaves a final video note for Ethan, telling him to stay away no matter what, because she didn’t want him to get dragged down in her mess. She knows how much Ethan loves her and I’m sure she knows if she sent a video saying “Ethan pls help” he’d come running for her, but she didn’t because she loves him and wants him to live even if she can’t be there with him. We see it AGAIN when she saves Ethan from Eveline’s grasp, when she tears him from the mold thing he was in and pushes him out so Eveline couldn’t hurt him. Fully knowing she’d have to face Eveline’s wrath.

And for everyone saying “why didn’t she just tell him then” I mean think about it. I think if this super shady organization found out someone they didn’t hire knew what was going on they’d kill them because again they’d be a liability and a threat. And that’s why she doesn’t tell Ethan because she doesn’t want him to be targeted and killed by them. I think if she had the opportunity she would have left The Connections but knows that it would result in her death anyway, and telling Ethan the truth would just end in his death if they found out and it was too risky in her mind.

And I think it’s this same form of protection that prevents her from telling Ethan he’s infected. She says (or at least we can assume that this was her) in Donna’s section that she didn’t tell him because she was afraid she’d lose him. I don’t think he’d divorce her if he found out he was molded (that doesn’t really make sense for his character), I think she was genuinely afraid he’d die (again) or worse begin to transform into a monster the way the rest of the infected did. And that’s why she keeps it hidden because she was scared to death he’d die or suffer a worse fate. Am I saying she was right in hiding it? No, but I think that everyone saying she’s manipulative and gaslighting are wrong because she truly loves Ethan and Rose, and I know she’d give her life gladly if it meant they could live.

I saw other people get mad because Rose is essentially being used as a bio weapon and how could Mia let this happen and I’m like?? She probably doesn’t have a say?? I mean yes Blue Umbrella is supposed to be “the good guys” now but like they’re still a huge organization, I’m sure Mia did her best to prevent this from happening and keep Rose safe but like at the end of the day what can she really do against a huge company?? If anything get mad at Chris because I’m sure he’s got some clout or something in that company that could have allowed Rose to live a normal life without Umbrella or maybe not being used as a weapon but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ a lot of people were like “Mia’s sO annoying at the beginning of the game” but fam that wasn’t even her?? That’s Miranda?? Besides even if it was Mia that blew up on Ethan in the hospital (as per Ethan’s diary) 1.) people deal with trauma differently, and I’m not saying it’s healthy but she’s scarred and doing her best and 2.) probably was afraid if they talked too much about Louisiana Ethan would realize he was infected and then BAM he’s either dead or a mutated monster. And in the cutscene of Mia saying “you matter!” Can you imagine the stress of knowing your husband is Mr Mold Man and not being able to do anything about it, out of fear of what could happen to him? Like of course she’s upset and going to blow when provoked (not that Ethan was aggressive or anything just that he was prying into a very high pressure soda that is Mia’s emotions lol) because she’s been bottling this up and has no one to talk to, and after a while anyone would explode. I think she would have told him if he hadn’t answered that call. Also marriage is not rainbows and butterflies, sometimes you get into messy fights with your partner and sometimes you or the other person say things you don’t mean but at the end of the day you love each other and try to be better. If anything Capcom was depicting a normal marriage tbh.

At the end of the day Mia is not the bad guy. She is only human who tried her best to keep her family safe against all the odds and idc what anyone says, Ethan and Mia love each other and have a healthy relationship and that’s that.

I hope I do this ask justice cause this is the kinda ask I’ve been like hoping for cause you are absolutely gosh damn right.

I’m a chill person & I’m never gonna probably get up into someone’s face about anything cause it’s fandom. I’m not here to cater your experience. That being said, when I see some of these frankly bad takes on Mia I’m like

We know Jack shit about why Mia joined the Connections. Literally nothing so people who have a whole solidified nasty opinion of Mia should probably just sit down. You don’t have to like her. But you also could like, idk, be absolutely dead wrong cause lol Capcom went, yeah we’re not gonna explain any of that.

I got the impression that in between re7 and re8 that they are hiding from the connections too but I may have misunderstood that In re8. I think it makes sense it’s the type of organization you do not leave. No matter how badly you want to and once Ethan came along, do people really think she’d risk him? Spoiler alert: no, no she wouldn’t.

Also, re7 started w Alan. He’s the one that let eveline get out of control so...I feel like people forget that.

I’ve been talking to a friend about people using the Miranda Mia against the real Mia and I don’t know how to kindly tell people that the game kinda absolutely explained that’s not Mia? I do think Mias got a temper which makes sense because Ethan is so even tempered that he can balance her out better. But Miranda Mia was a fuckin bitch. She was needling Ethan’s pain and mocking him. Do people think Ethan sat around for three years taking that? Ethan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. He was even fighting back w Miranda Mia so manipulative and abusive takes belong in the toilet w the rest of the shit.

Mia blowing up at Ethan means nothing. My parents have proven to me marriage is not easy. You will lose it on people when emotions run high. It happens. There’s a world of difference between a moment of anger versus abuse. But you still love and forgive people for moments of anger because we all have them. And I’m sure Ethan can be just as much as a pain in the ass. I love him more than most and I’d be the first person to admit I’m sure he didn’t make it easy all the time either.

Mia held the truth from Ethan because she was scared not just for her but for him too. It’s a selfless kind of lie. We all do them so I don’t know why Mia is getting burned at the stake for it. I’m just not movable on this. That was a heavy thing to carry and she was doing her best.

As for Rose, I don’t even know what Capcom is doing. How can anyone else know? She’s special and powerful. Maybe she wanted that life? I think we can reserve judgement until re9.

Like I said above, no one has to like Mia. Maybe you don’t vibe w her or maybe you still just don’t care for her. That’s cool. But my gosh don’t lie about the kind of person she is. If you can’t acknowledge her world and heart belongs to Ethan and Rose, I’m just not sure what to tell you.

Sorry for ranting on your ask nonnie 😆 I really appreciate that you sent this in! It needed said imo

[aarcanevillains]

MoC - Training

Masterlist - U2234

Izumi has been training and studying hard but just what course will she end up in? And why did everyone want to keep her hidden from Nedzu?

Warnings: swearing, injuries/scars, bullying and the chaos god that is Nedzu

Part two - had to split in half was too long

True to their word Tenko and Touya helped Izumi to train- and by Kami did she have one hell of a right hook….

Touya found that out when he scared her, offering to pick her up from Aldera for their first training session - apparently he’d had the day off or something… she swears the two of them spend more time with her now than studying to be a Hero. But Touya decided to walk behind her since she didn’t seem to see him waiting out front before spooking her… resulting in what will be later known as Izumi’s famous right hook. It bruised for a week… she apologised the entire way to UA after that.

After all the work they put in meeting Eraser Head was shocking for Izumi, he basically fought Quirkless it was amazing to meet him - and since All Might was no longer her favourite hero Eraser Head had taken the mantle.

“I have the guest pass for you… so Todoroki and Shimura have decided to help someone train for UA huh?” The man said tiredly.

“Y-yes Mr Eraser Head sir.” The man blinked in surprise before handing her the pass. “I’ll be monitoring today’s session; next one will be Present Mic.”

“You’ll love her sir.” Touya smirked. “As you can see she’s ready to fight whenever.” The hero raised a brow at the girls bright red face and the third years purpling cheek. He gave a huff- it might have been a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah in you go.”

 ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 Training with pro’s almost felt like a hack in the game of life. Training with two Hero students felt even more like a cheat code but Izumi was getting faster, stronger, and even when Tenko used his freakish strength and speed (which she really wants to know how that works with a quirk like Decay) she could keep up with him. That impressed the teachers who came to monitor (they definitely never jumped in to help her with her stances or cheer her on in spars or anything like that… definitely didn’t).

Teachers like Eraser Head and Snipe helped a lot. Eraser Head or Aizawa as she has been asked to call him would offer tips for her hand to hand and gymnastic skills - he even took her on a secret patrol once with the threat of expelling her on her first day if she told anyone including Tenko and Touya. Snipe helped when he caught her looking at support items and weapons- teaching her how to shoot a gun (shot guns should not be left alone with her she has impeccable targeting skills with them) and knives… knives almost felt too natural in her hands when she began training with them- again impeccable targeting skills, maybe analysis and observation did come in handy).

Other teachers did add their own input when they found out about her- Midnight did try and convince her that feminine wiles would get her far while also secretly giving her actual tips in regards to her flexibility. Present Mic offered the best possible moral support and somehow managed to befriend her mother and get the family recipes to cook for the other heroes… Inko guards them like it’s no one’s business, Izumi barely knows a quarter of them.

 The hardest thing to do was avoid All Might apparently Tenko wanted Izumi to be a big surprise for him and a giant fuck you to any quirkism the world will throw her- he believed in her, Touya believed in her and so did many teachers on this campus so why not give a little middle finger to the man who took off and left her on a roof.

 The biggest issue however was Nedzu… apparently the rat god was over excited to meet her especially after Present Mic let it slip that he’d been the first to see her analysis books and gushed about his couple of pages… wrong move because the small chaos god walked straight into one of her training sessions and laughed maniacally as she landed double blow on both Tenko and Touya.

 Izumi had flipped onto her hands and kicked out at the two hero students, smacking them hard in the chest… though Nedzu’s laughing made her fall down with them in fright. With green hair a wild untamed mess she looked straight at the rat god and laughed for a greeting.

“You must be Izumi Midoriya. It is a pleasure to finally meet you after all this time.” That time being five months. Izumi had already had her birthday by this point and with the help of Tenko, Touya and Present Mic’s driving they’d finished cleaning up the beach much to Nedzu’s excitement. “Am I a bear? A mouse? A dog??? Why I am principal Nedzu.”

“You’re a stoat.” She said with a pant, the room fell quiet and the green haired girl is certain she heard Aizawa groan and Mic shudder.

“Excellent observations Miss Midoriya. Now I would like to steal you away from school tomorrow if you don’t mind- I’ve already called your mother ahead of time… I wish to talk about those analysis books of yours.”

“Really?”

“Oh definitely.” He grinned… the world was coming to an end Nedzu the chaos god was about to create a mini chaos god- the teachers present could feel it. “Only for the afternoon however as that is when your mother is able to bring you to UA herself I hope that’s no trouble.“

“Perfect.” She grinned, a feral and bright smile.

The world was going to end.

 ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 Avoiding her bullies was going to be hard, she needed to rush to the front desk before her mother could see another singed uniform… or find out Bakugou was the cause of them- she couldn’t do that to her mother not while she was still best friends with Auntie Mitsuki. He might be a dick and a bully but she had hope one day he’d calm down… but then again Touya saw her burn marks on her shoulders and back and went into a rage the second they’d become visible… she’d rather never see him so upset ever again- especially since she had worse scars on her lower back, scars she hopes neither hero trainee ever see or at least don’t for a long time.

“Oi Deku where are you going?” Bakugou called- she hadn’t called him Kaachan in months. She felt his hand grab hold of her shoulder and slam her into the wall. She could feel the tell-tale sizzle of his quirk buzzing beneath his skin.

“The office- mum’s picking me up.” She said. Bakugou growled, opting to slam her into the wall again. “You better be telling the truth you damned nerd. You’ve been up to something and I want to know what- better not be trying to be a hero still.”

 She felt her stomach fill with lead, she so badly wanted to show him that she could fight, that she was strong… she couldn’t, not when she’d get another mark for no reason on her record.

“You can never be a hero; you’ll just get in everyone’s way because you are useless. It is all you will ever be- got it. Don’t think about going to UA, you won’t be wanted in the hero or general courses.” He growled, hand that was by his side crackling with sparks.

“Support course is an option asshole.” She muttered when he let go of her shoulder.

“What was that you bit-“

“Izumi there you are… oh hello Katsuki.” Inko appeared from around the corner, smile a little too tight on her face. “Hope you don’t mind I wandered in they said I could go find you in your classroom.”

“Hi Auntie.” Bakugou said, backing off- his lackeys having frozen still.

“Now Izumi shall we get going now, wouldn’t want to miss that appointment of yours.” The woman smiled more. “It’s life or death now.”

Bakugou thought his heart would burst when Auntie Inko rounded the corner, Izumi might be useless but Inko was terrifying when she got mad… he was glad to have only ever seen her angry once even though it got her put on leave from the hospital (he didn’t know what she yelled at the doctor for but as one of the more experienced nurses there it was obvious that there were people on her side that helped her keep her job). And she was still in her nurses uniform so she must have just left work.

“Life or death?” One of the extra’s asked… and he couldn’t help but let a shiver go down his spine.

 ~~*~~*~~*~~

 Inko was pissed to say the least… Izumi had never seen her mother look so mad before (besides the day in the hospital) whilst keeping her usual motherly smile until they reached the car.

“Izumi.” Inko began, voice soft and deadly. “Never let that boy touch you again.”

“Yes mama.” She said with a gulp. “He can still become a hero yeah?”

“As long as I don’t find out that he’s done anything else.” She side eyed her daughter. “Then I won’t say anything to Nedzu when we arrive.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be calling Mitsuki about what I heard though. Hopefully, that’ll knock some sense into him.” She sighed as the rounded the street corner. “I have your notebooks in the boot, in a box.”

“Oh awesome, even the gross one?”

“Thirteen?” Izumi nodded. “Yes though I’ve placed it in a bag.”

“Love you mum.”

“Love you too sweetie.”

 ~~*~~*~~*~~

 Nedzu was- in his own way- excited to see Izumi’s notebooks and talk to Inko about her daughters training. She’d been working on her training for the last five months- already on par with Tenko Shimura for speed and skill while still behind Touya understandably- even if she could still knock him on his ass (Aizawa’s words). Inko sounded like a lovely woman, strong and determined- and from what he’s seen from the cameras Izumi had inherited similar traits from her mother while her father was none existent.

Nedzu had to admit he was impressed by Mrs Midoriya, she never left her daughter behind, never backed down from an argument where she was right and never told her daughter to give up - if her hospital incident was anything to go by… perhaps he could offer her a job as a school nurse with Recovery Girl.

A knock startled the UA principal from his thoughts and even he was surprised, he’d been so excited he’d not been watching his cameras to see both Midoriya’s at the door. This would be the most interesting conversation yet.

 ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

 “It is lovely to officially meet you Mrs Midoriya.” Nedzu said as the Midoriya’s sat across from him. “I’ve heard the most interesting and wonderful things about you both.”

Both of the green haired women flushed.

“Thank you for meeting with us Principal Nedzu, I have my notebooks and blueprints here for you.”

“Oh yes thank you I shall overlook them after this meeting concludes.” Nedzu grinned, slightly more feral than his usual one.

“Oh my do I want to know what interesting and wonderful things you have heard?” Inko giggled. “I sure hope it’s not anything in regards to my temper… it’s genetic I’m afraid.”

“Well… I must ask about the hospital incident if you don’t mind, I was quite thrilled to learn how protective and kind you are and to have such an intelligent and strong daughter… Miss Midoriya are you sure you don’t have a hidden quirk?” The group laughed (and the teachers outside most definitely did not shuffle further away from the door after hearing them).

“Ah yes…” Inko began. “Suppose that might be worth explaining if my daughter is to attend such a prestigious school under your tutelage.”

“I would most definitely love to hear your side of the story. The records are unclear some saying you had an outburst for no reason and others saying the doctor deserved it… I must say I am already considering giving you a contract for UA as well.”

“Oh Nedzu you don’t have to.” Inko flushed.

“Ma please if I get in then you don’t have to worry about being late.” Izumi joked making the rat god and her mother laugh too.

“If you get in I may accept. Now… Nedzu I am aware of how humans treated you.” Inko fell serious and Nedzu admittedly does know what happened, he saw the footage and feels utter rage for th doctor Inko was angry with- the man deserved it. “He told me I should put Izumi down like she was a stray mutt.”

Nedzu bared his teeth, yes he knew all to well on how humans treated him yet still he could not fathom how they treat one another.

“And all because I don’t have a quirk.” Izumi snorted. “Pathetic really, ooh look an extra joint, ooh wisdom teeth, ooh an appendix… I don’t know sound’s stupid to me.”

 “It is pathetic isn’t it.” Nedzu sighed. “But It gives me great joy knowing a woman like you exists Mrs Midoriya it truly does. Now… Let’s talk about your next five months of training yes? I have a feeling Power Loader would be ecstatic to see the blueprints you’ve created.”