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[terrasourcing]

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[krawdad]

Blender's 2D animation environment seems like it's close enough to flash but with premiere's timeline that I might be able to pick it up quicker than I thought.

[thelostconsultant]

Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: Oscar finds out he has a son, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to be the father he deserves.

Note: Oscar is in his early 30s in this. Also, I've been going through the trash can (exported posts from the old blog), so most of it might be familiar.

“We would like to meet Oliver’s father. His biological father,” the principal clarifies as he glances over at your boyfriend. You’ve been together for three years, he has been by your five-year-old’s side for over half his life, why isn’t he enough?

But he insists on meeting him, saying if he was dead and you could prove it, or if your boyfriend was your husband, they would move on with the enrollment, but you have confirmed that you aren’t married and the biological father is alive, so now they want to have a chat with him. He doesn’t even care about the tiny little detail that said father has absolutely no idea he has a child. 

What a bunch of morons.

In the evening, while your son is reading a book about cars in his bed with your boyfriend, you sit by the dining table with your phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. This fancy private school is perfect, they know how to handle intelligent kids like Oliver, and you want the best for him. You want to make sure he doesn’t get bored, that he will get the kind of intellectual challenge in school that he needs.

At the age of five, he can read on his own just fine, he even learned some Spanish from your boyfriend, and he’s a quick study in general. It’s infuriating how he’s a mini version of his father, from his intelligence to his looks, everything reminds you of him. 

And if you meet F1 fans together, someone surely goes, “He looks so much like Piastri at his age!” Sadly, that isn’t a coincidence, and the poor kid picked up on the whole you-look-like-him thing and chose him as his favorite driver.

Sometimes you consider telling him. Oliver, not Oscar. God, there’s no way you will ever tell him the truth. He has his own, certainly busy life and he probably doesn’t need a child in it. Yes, you saw the photos, he’s good with kids, but meeting one for a few minutes isn’t the same as having your own. 

Your son on the other hand can find out when he gets old enough to understand why you left and went no contact with his father. That was over five years ago anyway, so you had time to figure out what to do. Until then, you make sure the few photos of you and Oscar are stored somewhere safe in case he wants to see them when the time comes.

Now you are cornered, your hand forced by that damn principal. You have no idea if he’s still using that old social media profile of his, but you have to try. So, you take a deep breath and start a video call, deep down hoping he won’t answer. You aren’t ready to talk to him, not yet, but you have no choice. And then his face shows up on your screen, the sight bringing back memories you’ve been trying to forget for years.

“Hey. Are you sure it’s me you wanted to call?” he asks, although there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

Nodding, you let out a sigh. “Hi. Yeah, um… I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

Silence follows his words, your brain in overdrive as it try to find the best way to start. But maybe being straightforward is the right answer. “I have a son. He’s five,” you add, hoping the meaningful look you’re sending his way can be seen over the screen.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, you can see the wheels turning in his head as he does some math. “Wait, five? We… That was a bit over five years ago. Could he…?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “He’s your son.”

His face is emotionless for a while as he tries to process the news, but this is nothing new, he’s the king of hiding emotions. But then, just as you think he will end the call, he lets out a sigh. “Why now? What do you want from me? Money?” he asks, although you can tell he’s unsure about this whole situation.

The fact he assumes you want money only makes you angry. “It’s not your money I need. Hell, I don’t even want you to meet him,” you snap. “The thing is, there’s this private school I want to send him to, and they have this stupid rule to have both parents present at a parental interview. Since my boyfriend and I never got married, they want to see the biological father. That’s all I want. A meeting with the principal.”

Oscar puts up a finger as he bites on his lower lip, his eyes focusing on something behind his phone’s camera. “Let me get this straight. After all these years, you say I have a son, but I’m not allowed to meet him?” he then asks, looking back at you.

“Yeah.”

“One meeting,” he then states, his voice serious. “You let me meet him once and I’ll talk to that principal.”

“Oscar, come on.”

“That’s the deal I can offer.”

You don’t have a choice, you know that. If he doesn’t do it for Oliver, he will have to go to another school. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you nod. “But we don’t tell him that you’re his father. He watches F1, and since he looks a lot like you, he decided that you’re his favorite driver. That’s all you’re gonna be, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” Oscar begins hesitantly, and you can see as he sits down on his couch and looks up at the ceiling. “You just told me I had a son. What do you want from me, to forget it? I want to meet him. I want him to know who I am.”

“He’s five. If he finds out, he’ll want to see you again. He will want you to be a part of his life. I don’t want that.”

You can see he’s uncertain about this. He probably understands that becoming his father would mean he will have to regularly visit the two of you, and even if you all kept it a secret, there is still the risk of the truth slipping out and making it into the headlines. “Is he anything like me?” he suddenly asks, his eyes softening as he watches you. 

A smile creeps on your lips as you think about this, because it’s so painfully obvious to you that you can’t deny it, no matter how badly you want to do that. “He’s a highly intelligent little smartass, just like you. And his looks… A mini you, no doubt.”

Oscar nods. “Then I want to be a part of his life. Let me spend time with him,” he asks, seeming relaxed. 

“Two hours.”

“No, I’ll stay for a week, and I want to see him every day,” he’s quick to clarify. “I can look out for him while you’re at work.”

Whatever happened to the idea of meeting Oliver once? That’s not what you have just discussed, and now he’s changing his demands? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” is all you say in the end.

“You said it yourself, I’m his favorite driver,” he points out with a smug smile. “We’ll be fine.”

You are doing this only because of the school. You remember what Oscar can be like; if he makes up his mind about something, he definitely isn’t about to let his plan go. Now he wants a week with his son, and you know that’s the only way he will do what you need from him. “All right. Can I send you the school’s number so you can make an appointment? I told them you travel a lot, so they’ll need to be flexible.”

“Sure, I’ll call them as soon as I can.” You thank him, and are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up again. “Wait, can you send me a photo or a video?”

“Yeah, I have a few hundred of those,” you reply with a smile.

Oscar remains silent, but he lets out a sigh and you know something is on his mind, something he wants to tell you. “I still have a hard time believing it, you know.”

“You seemed pretty confident when it came to getting to know him.”

“I wanted to use my chance to corner you,” he admits. “But this? That I have a son? Hard to believe.”

“Well, he’s yours. You’ll understand it when you meet him,” you tell him kindly. 

After you say goodbye, you go up to check on Oliver and your boyfriend, but by the time you get there, they are sleeping soundly with the open book resting on your son’s chest. With a smile, you take the book and lean down to give both of them a soft kiss. You can’t help but wonder how your little family’s dynamics will change with Oscar’s presence. 

Well, it isn’t really your son you are worried about, the main issue is your boyfriend. Oscar is a famous F1 driver, someone your son idolizes, of course he feels threatened. You told him it would be okay, that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but he didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if they meet and he sees you are indifferent, he will finally trust you a lot more. One can hope, right?

A bit over a week later Oscar is sitting in his rented car in the school’s parking lot, thinking about how this conversation could go. According to you, they are aware of the fact he didn’t know Oliver existed until recently, so he hopes they don’t expect him to talk about what he’s like. Sure, over the past week he asked you about him, he wanted to prepare for meeting him, but they haven’t met in person. How could he know what to say? After taking a deep breath, he gets out and goes inside, feeling more nervous than he does when he’s getting in the car before a race.

If he’s this nervous now, what will he feel like before meeting his son? 

Spending years in a boarding school prepared him for this meeting, and the principal is everything he imagined him to be. He’s polite, not making a fuss over the fact he is–let’s say–famous. He even apologizes for the mess he caused, saying he understands it was probably quite a shock for him, but this is the protocol, and they can’t make an exception. Oscar keeps nodding, even assuring him it’s okay, although deep down he’s still confused and unsure of things. 

All of this despite his conversation with his mother, who was overjoyed when she saw a video of Oliver, saying he was truly just like him, and she couldn’t wait to have the chance to meet her grandchild in person. But she also told him maybe this was the best thing that could happen to him. Having a child is truly an experience, and since he was still five, they had the chance to have a wonderful relationship. “You say he loves F1. Just imagine how happy he would be if he could go to some race weekends with you. You could teach him so much about racing, and you could bond over that,” she said. 

After he parks in front of your house in the afternoon, Oscar goes to the trunk to get everything he brought with himself. From signed merch from both himself and Lando–just to be sure–to toy racing cars, he has a wide variety of gifts. Something will hopefully become a favorite, an item that he will keep close to himself. Maybe he went overboard, maybe he could’ve brought only one thing, but he had no idea what Oliver liked, so he couldn’t pick just one item. 

“Please, don’t tell me you brought all this for him.”

He looks up with a questioning hum, only to find you standing next to him on the sidewalk. Seeing you again brings back memories of your time together, of all of your little adventures during the short time you spent together, and he can’t help but wonder if you fled because you found out you were pregnant. If you didn’t leave him so suddenly, would things be different now? Would you be a big happy family? 

Clearing his throat, he flashes a sheepish smile at you. “I couldn’t choose,” he admits as he grabs the duffel bag and follows you to the front door. He can’t help but wonder what he can expect, and he has to ask you the most important thing. “Did you tell him that he was meeting his father today?” You nod. That’s good. “Is he excited?”

You bite on your lower lip as you watch him, clearly thinking about how to answer the question. But after a short break, you let out a sigh. “He’s a little confused, I think. My boyfriend, Alejandro, met him when he was only two, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and he moved in last year. Oliver… He assumed my boyfriend was his dad, which in a way he is, but we had to sit him down and explain the situation to him,” you say, looking sad all of a sudden. 

It’s clear now why you were so against telling Oliver the truth. You want him to be close to your boyfriend, and you’re probably afraid things between them will change once he gets into the picture. Maybe you’re even afraid things between you and your boyfriend will change too. He can’t blame you for that, but now that he knows he has a son, Oscar wants to be a part of his life. He doesn’t want to be some asshole who ignored his own blood. 

Once inside, he puts the bag on the floor and follows you to the living room where Oliver is watching some cartoon on TV. Now that he sees him in person, he feels warmth spread through his body, because this kid looks exactly like he did at his age. You clear your throat next to him to get your son’s attention, and when the kid notices him, his eyes grow wide from surprise. He gets off the couch and slowly walks over to them, his eyes never leaving his face as he tries to process who their guest is. 

“Hello, Oliver,” Oscar says as he crouches down. 

“You’re Oscar Piastri!” he yells excitedly. 

Oscar can’t help but chuckle at this. “I am.”

You reach out to ruffle your son’s hair, then lean down to be on somewhat eye level with him. “Honey, remember when I said your daddy was going to jump in to see you?” The little boy nods. “It’s Oscar. He’s your dad,” you tell him softly.

Suddenly the excitement is replaced by disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you as he tries to process what he’s just been told. The corners of Oscar’s lips curl into a smile as he watches him, waiting patiently for the child’s decision. 

“So he’s my dad?” Oliver asks, earning a nod from you. “Does this mean I’m a Piastri?” It’s Oscar’s turn to nod. “Mom, why am I not called Piastri?”

His eyes move over to you just in time to see you gulp, clearly having trouble figuring out what to say to that. He can’t blame you for your confusion, it probably haven’t occurred to you that one day you will have to respond to this question. 

With a kind smile, he puts a hand on your arm, then turns to his son. “Because I’ve been away for a little too long. But I’m here, your mom and I can discuss if we could change that if you want,” he finishes, barely daring to glance up at you, expecting to meet an angry look in your eyes.

But you don’t look angry, if anything, you seem relieved that he came to your rescue. There’s a glint in your eyes, though, that tells him you aren’t happy that Oliver brought up his surname. As he thinks about it, it occurs to him that you have mentioned how you considered your boyfriend to be his father in a way, so maybe you will have rather given him his name. 

You place a soft kiss on your son’s head, then inform him that you will leave the two of them alone so they can get to know each other. Father and son watches you leave the room, then he turns back to the child with a smile. “I brought you some things. Wanna see them?” he asks him, and when the little boy nods, he goes to grab his bag. 

As he opens the zipper, Oliver stands by his side, watching his every move with a happy smile on his face. Oscar pulls out the gifts, one by one, and can’t hold back his laugh as he watches his son proudly wearing his new baseball cap and shirt as he examines the toy car in his small hands. He begins to talk about the last race, excitedly recounting the most memorable moments, including the end when his father crossed the finish line first. His big brown eyes turn to him, then he says that he’s so happy he’s here. 

When he wraps his short arms around him, Oscar does the same and even presses a kiss on the kid’s head. There is undeniably a certain connection between them that he can’t explain, but they both know it’s there, otherwise his son probably wouldn’t be this chill with the idea of being alone with a stranger. Okay, that and the fact he’s his favorite driver.

They sit down in the middle of the living room, and Oliver decides to talk about his favorite books, proudly telling his father that he knows how to read, and that, according to you and your boyfriend, he’s really good at it. “The other kids can barely read yet,” he says with a smug smile, “and I’m already learning math!”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Oscar asks him, but the boy only shakes his head. “I should teach you. I started when I was younger than you, and my mom refused to play with me after a while.”

“Because you were so good?” 

With a shrug, he stretches his arms above his head. “I don’t know, but I guess I was better than her. Not sure about other people, though,” he admits with a warm smile.

Oliver lets out a thoughtful hum. “Is she as awesome as my mom?” he suddenly asks, looking back at him. 

A laugh escapes him at the thought, which makes his son tilt his head to the side in question. “That depends on who you ask. She loves to embarrass me online, which isn’t always a good thing, but I love her, she’s the best mum I could ask for. And there are a lot of people, especially my fans, who absolutely adore her for this gentle bullying,” he adds with a laugh.

“My mom would never do that,” Oliver states, his little nose scrunching at the thought. “She loves me too much.”

The two of them spend the next hour or so talking, sometimes stopping when the little boy gets distracted by something he caught on TV. But he seems interested, he wants to learn as much as he can, and it’s true the other way around, because Oscar asks a lot of questions too. He hasn’t even noticed how much time have passed until you walk in to tell your son it’s time for dinner, a statement that comes with the question whether or not his dad is allowed to stay. 

You don’t let him stay, saying he’s probably tired from traveling so much, then give him a begging look to make him speak up too. Oscar lets out a sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying for a few days and your mum let me come to see you every day,” he says happily. “In fact, I’ll be looking out for you tomorrow while she’s at work. How does that sound?”

Oliver squeals from happiness before he hugs you both, thanking you over and over again for letting him come over. “Can we go to the zoo?” he asks with bright eyes as he looks over at his father. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” Oscar responds with a nod. 

“Okay, time to wash your hands, Alejandro will be home soon, so we can start to eat,” you ask your son. Once he says goodbye to Oscar and disappears, you turn to him with a forced smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

With a sigh, he steps closer to you. “You were right, he’s a lot like me,” he begins quietly, then stops to consider what to say. 

He knows deep down that you want him to stay away, you don’t want him to ruin the balance of your little family, but how can he give you that after getting to know his son? Oliver is his blood, he’s truly a mini version of him, there’s no way he will turn his back on him now. 

You know. After all these years, despite your time together being so short, you still know him well enough to know what was going on in his head. “Just don’t break his heart, okay?” you ask, earning a nod from him. “Thanks for… everything. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure you want to take him to the zoo?” his mother asks later that day when he calls her. 

Despite being excited to hear everything about her grandson, she seems a little uncertain since hearing about his plan for the next day. Oscar, obviously, knows the problem. Oliver looks just like him, if people see them together—and they will, there’s always someone who recognizes him���the rumors will spread like wildfire along with some photos to prove it. 

And then some journalist will figure out he’s your son, and they’ll check every paparazzi photo of him with his past girlfriends. 

So, yeah, he knows the risks, but deep down he doesn’t care. And if they find out, then what? He likes this kid, he wants to be a part of his life, he wants to be the kind of father Oliver deserves. 

“Sooner or later the secret would be out, Mum,” he points out.

She lets out a sigh. “Yeah, but are his mother and her boyfriend ready for this?” 

Crap. This he selfishly didn’t consider.

The two of them chat a little longer, and this time he’s willing to listen to a lecture and some advice without interrupting his mother. He needs all the help he can get at this point. Anything to make the right decision at the end of the day.

Two hours later he’s standing in front of your house, leaning against the side of the car with his phone in hand. His thumb hovers over your name as he’s trying to decide whether or not to call you at this time of the night. 

The clock says it’s almost midnight. Maybe you’re already sleeping, maybe—

“Oscar?”

His head snaps up, and he sees you stand in the door. Gulping, he pushes himself away from the vehicle and walks over to you. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but we need to talk,” he says.

You nod. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

And then he explains everything; the zoo, the possibility of the world finding out his connection to Oliver, the rumors, the gossip sites, the scrutiny. This is more than what you went through while dating him, and it will affect all three of you.

He can see the exact moment you understand the weight of it all, he sees the way the blood drains from your face and you rub your eyes with the heel of your palms. 

This is the point where you’ll say that’s enough, Oscar’s sure of it, but then tears appear in your eyes, and he instinctively cups your face to force you to look at him. He doesn’t have to ask anything, you start to talk without his question.

“Alejandro moved out. Temporarily, at least that’s what he said. Oliver… He kept talking about you, about how cool it is that you’re his father, and he got a little upset that I didn’t point out he was technically a stranger unlike the man who’s been raising him.”

With a sigh, Oscar pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay. I can talk to him if you want me to,” he offers. 

You look him in the eye, then shake your head. “No, and… I think you shouldn’t be around Oliver either. Birthday, Christmas, one visit during the summer break. The only times you can see him,” you state quietly. 

“What? No!”

“Do what’s the best for him. Please.”

For a moment, Oscar hesitates. Yes, he understands your point, but he doesn’t want to let go of his son. Not now that he knows what a cool kid he has. Anger slowly takes over, and before he can stop himself, he says, “Don’t want me to start a custody battle,” he says. 

“Come on, you travel around the world for the best part of the year, you’re single as far as I know, no judge would give you custody.”

He’s not like this, he barely loses his temper, but now he’s so angry he might blow up. “Why do you have to complicate things every single time?!” he spits. “I’ll talk to your boyfriend and put an end to this nonsense. He’ll have to accept that I’m here, and I’m here to say. Damn it, I’ll even move here if that’s the only way I can be around Oliver.”

This leaves you speechless, and then you just slap him across the face and march back inside the house. 

Well, that’s not what he expected. 

[ms-demeanor]

probably not a good sign that i couldn't talk about work at the con this weekend without crying a little and that I had to force myself to leave my laptop at home so i couldn't do work and leaving my laptop at home made me feel a little panicky and also now i kind of want to throw up instead of going to work tomorrow.

I'm so overloaded that I've become completely ineffective, I've got so many projects that none of them are getting done, fucked up tracking time a couple weeks ago and missed twenty or so hours on my paycheck and am feeling so fried that I am struggling to muster up the energy to fix it (i shouldn't have missed that many hours anyway i'm hourly there's supposed to be a clock system for me but there isn't the time tracking is supposed to be for metrics not for how i get paid and now i have to dump time into fixing that)

there is a repository of business information that lives ONLY on my computer (my personal computer, because I do not have a work computer) that needs to get uploaded to our documentation system but the configs exported from one system as PDFs but can't be uploaded to the other as PDF so I need to open each one and save it in word so I can upload them individually because the system can take word docs but not PDFs

I need to finish creating the spreadsheet of standard hardware and put specifications and part numbers and standard costs on it but I need to meet with the networking team lead so we can go over spec for the networking equipment because the standards are new to both of us and I need to know what he's looking for if one of the standards are out of stock and he needs to learn the abbreviation/part number system for that particular vendor so i need to teach it to him and until we're on the same page I can't finish my hardware standards project

I need to create a guide for the practice leads to reach out to vendors in their relevant practices because right now I'm the one who reaches out so I'm the one who has the meetings about spec quotes and nobody else knows who to call or where to submit a consultation request

I need to create a guide for the techs to source hardware and figure out part numbers and compare specs

i need to quote two printer options for a client

i need to email the vendor about the mis-applied warranty and have it corrected to the appropriate device

i need to get uptime data on eight servers collected for the bimonthly client meeting

i need to call microsoft to get access to a tenant for a user we never should have sold licenses to

i need to check tracking and update the order spreadsheet

i need to export the list of firewalls from one vendor and sort it by active clients and sort it by the ones that need to be replaced because they're EOL and then the ones that need to be renewed and then the ones that aren't on fire that we can consider replacing in two years

I need to look at the list of servers and sort by drive type and get the drive part numbers so that I can get spares to all the clients

of those things, I think I've got tickets for two or three of them. The other forty five tickets I have are unrelated to this task list.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter IX

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, impending doom arrives, first date with wooyo, lots of tension, smut mdni!! (fingering, oral f! receiving, p in v and all the good stuff).

chapter wc: 14.5k

chapter synopsis: with the illegal shipment and resultantly, the crescents under investigation, you are all on the move. despite the stressful and tense atmosphere, you manage a successful first date with wooyoung. jaebeom confirms that madame tiffany is involved with the elites and you confront hongjoong and seonghwa who remind you that the crescents are a power to be reckoned with. you learn the identity of the last anonymous funder but it threatens the weapons channel and the crescents gather to strategise. the night ends on an intimate note with yunho.

prev chapter recap: jaemin informs you that the sirens have turned on president lee because of his involvement with the hala official, major sung, who you learn from seonghwa is the pseudo-governor of strictland. you can’t shake off the feeling that president lee might be involved with the elites. you go to the bar to confess to yeosang and he talks in detail about what being in a relationship with the boys entails. you understand and agree, finally sharing a kiss with him. the boys gather at the bar to congratulate you for officially becoming a leader, and you take the opportunity to tell them that you would like to be their partner as well. they welcome you and afterwards, you steal a romantic moment with yunho who tells you that there is trouble at the port. someone tipped the navy and they made the crescent’s illegal shipment of black shadow come back, which is odd because in doing so, the navy bends some international waters laws. you have a romantic moment with seonghwa before you go with his guard yuta, and jaemin to meet up with mingi to hide all the crescent’s illegal documents. you learn that mingi, san and jongho were in the same platoon as you during the war though you don’t recognise each other.

Things had never been busier at the Crescent Company– at least not in the past couple of years since you became an employee of the business empire.

The office was, of course, the one that took the brunt of it. With the navy’s tip about the Crescent’s illegal trading now becoming a full-fledged case in the Edenary Station, which just so happened to be the biggest police station in Eden, a follow-up investigation was being carried out. You had to deal with a lot of investors wanting to opt out, inquiring about their safety when they were wholly aware that the Crescent Company was never a very moral and legal business to begin with. You were getting tired of convincing the investors that this tip wasn’t something that could shut the business down when its foundations were still strong.

For how long, they wondered? That question nagged at your brain too. Technically, an illegal trading caught would only result in a trade ban with the concerned country, or worse, a total trade ban for a few years. If you were right, from what you had learned about the Crescents so far, they always had a second plan and a third in case things went south. You and everyone at the Crescent Office were aware of this, yet it hardly did anything to quell the chaos. 

The Crescent Bar was as active as before, though with an influx of new customers hoping to get a whiff of what the Crescent’s future looked like. The warehouse, however, put a halt to most of its illegal production and was sticking with the legal and licensed business in case of a raid by the police. With the production slowing, the trading with Utopia was ultimately going to get affected– if the Crescents couldn’t export the promised amount of weapons parts, they wouldn’t get their share of Black Shadow, which would generate loss at the Bar too.

Hongjoong made sure to assure you that things like these happened all the time, though it couldn’t be denied that the severity this time was perhaps greater. However, every business had to deal with losses. The important thing was to be able to recover from that, stand back up and keep functioning like normal. He was anxious, which was a given, but he was also navigating this catastrophe with an objectivity and a level-headedness that you were starting to admire. 

It had been a good few days since you went to hide the official documents with Mingi. You were on standby at the office while Hongjoong and Seonghwa went out for a meeting with one of the RV spies– for some reason, the RV spies weren’t ready to meet you. Or maybe, the boys did not want you to meet any of the RV spies considering the thing about these spies actively protecting you. 

Yunho and Yeosang had been the only ones to tell you about the spies’ role in your life,  insisting that you did not need to worry about them but you couldn’t help but wonder– who were they? How closely were they watching you? And if they were watching you closely, why did they not protect you the uncountable times you were in danger?

Or had they protected you without your knowledge? They were spies and assassins for a reason– you wouldn’t know if they were watching you right now. Whatever their reasons to protect you were, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. No matter how much you tried to hide or live in the shadows, you were always under observation, and no matter how much you pondered, you couldn’t come up with a reason strong enough to justify your circumstances. 

You could finally understand why Hongjoong was adamant at bringing you out of the shadows. Now that you were in the light, things were slowly and certainly coming to a clarity and you could not wait to see the whole picture, even though the prospect of it sounded downright scary.

The silence in Hongjoong’s office room filled with the loud bell of the phone and you picked the receiver with your usual greeting, physically relaxing when Jaehyun’s voice greeted you instead of one of the investors.

“How have you been?” You asked, leaning against the table. “What’s the news?”

“All good. The news, well… we divided and conquered, Ten and I,” Jaehyun said and you hummed in response. “Our image does not look good, that’s a given.”

“Yeah, you can imagine how chaotic it’s been in the office,” you said.

“The partners and investors are jumpy, yes, but I don’t think this is the right time to pull out. They won’t, rest assured. However, they’ll try to find openings and try to target the business itself.”

“Ah…” you recalled Yunho talking about something like that a few days ago. “That makes sense. Strike while the iron is hot.”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun said. “I’ve got some interesting proposals, though. General Wi is willing to help us in any way that he can, which is… odd but understandable. He’s just trying to secure someone who will have his back at the time of the elections.”

“And he’s worried that his secrets might get leaked,” you added. “Does he have any ideas?”

“He’s looking into the source. We unfortunately could not find that out.”

You paused for a few moments, absently playing with the cord of the phone, before answering, “Yeah, that’s okay. If it was this easy to find out, they wouldn’t have attempted this. Anything else?”

“Yeah, there’s one thing and it might be of importance,” Jaehyun began and you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath, “Inspector Gong is looking into you– your background, specifically.”

“Inspector Gong?” You frowned, straightening. “Why?”

“I thought you’d know?” Jaehyun asked. “Maybe because you’re a Crescent now? I mean, he’s aware of our history, but not yours. And it’s probably nothing, but I just thought you should know in case it is something.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” you sighed. “Actually, can you do me another favour and find out when exactly Inspector Gong was demoted to Sector 1?”

“Oh, I can tell you that,” Jaehyun said. “Some time after President Han got assassinated. I remember because he was one of the few detectives hell bent on investigating officially, because a public assassination happened under his jurisdiction.”

“Did he ever get to the end of the case?”

“He was demoted because the higher-ups wanted to close the case. President Lee apparently had his own private team because he couldn’t trust the police force with this. It was a hot topic back in those days.”

“That would be right after I came to Sector 1 too…”

For a few moments, you both had the receiver in your hands, listening to the static as you processed this information. It was Jaehyun who finally broke the silence and asked, “Do you think you’ve encountered him while you were in Edenary? Before or after your stay in Wonderland?”

“I might have. A very high possibility. I’m not sure if he remembers me, because I don’t,” you admitted. “Why would he look into me, though? And why now?”

“Strike while the iron is hot?” Jaehyun repeated. “He might be doing this to target us. He’s been after us for a long time.”

“Yeah, well, I hope he finds something,” you scoffed. “I’d love to know what secrets I might be hiding.”

Jaehyun laughed, aware of your situation and your involvement with the business. “I think I should look into you too. We might find something of importance.”

“Ha, ha, sure,” you shook your head. A knock sounded at the door and Seonghwa entered, settling on the couch when he noticed you were on call. “Okay, I’ve got to go now. Thank you for the update, Jaehyun. And do look into me– specifically with Secretary Park’s connection. Let me know if you find something new.”

“Sure thing,” Jaehyun said, hanging up. You exhaled deeply and turned in your chair to look at Seonghwa who was stretching while trying his hardest to stifle a yawn. You were getting used to seeing that sight now.

“Was that Jaehyun?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yeah. He didn’t find the source, but Inspector Gong is looking into me these days.”

“I had a feeling he would when you went to see him with Hongjoong,” Seonghwa tsk-ed. “Anything else?”

“Nothing. How did the meeting go?”

“Awful,” Seonghwa smiled in defeat. “They don’t know who the source is either– or they’re lying. It was cryptic but I think if they knew, they would have been gloating about it.”

“A person capable of putting the RV spies off their scent…” You thought out loud. “We’ve had quite a few of those happenings recently. Makes me wonder if the RV spies are all that good.”

“Oh, they are, trust me,” Seonghwa raised his brows for emphasis and you shrugged, not fully convinced. “But you’re right. They might be losing their touch– Hongjoong was sure to let them know. You can imagine what happened next.”

You curbed a smile at the prospect of Hongjoong talking back to the group of assassins but you would expect nothing less from him. A thought gnawed at you. “The RV spies don’t know about the anonymous weapons funder’s identity, right? Do you think that person could be the one who tipped the navy?”

Seonghwa folded his arms in thought. “Whoever did this… their goal must be to cause damage to our business, right? I think the funder would have been better off exposing our weapons channel, because there would be no coming back from that. Someone has a bigger problem with us– at least, I think so. The timing of this… someone must be aware of our new deal and is trying to sabotage it.”

That made sense. You nodded slowly. “A mole?”

A topic everyone was avoiding talking out loud about, yet was being investigated cautiously. Seonghwa glanced at you, silently nodding. 

You got up and went to sit beside him on the couch, your thighs brushing against each other. You poured him a drink and he accepted it, downing it in one gulp. 

“Have you ever had a mole before?”

“A few, yes,” Seonghwa admitted. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s someone from the inner circle– someone we personally know. Usually, it’s someone new or a person with very strong opinions.”

“Which is why the RV spies may not know who the source is,” you concluded. “Because it might be an insider job.”

Seonghwa nodded grimly and you decided to change the topic, taking his hand and squeezing it in hopes of comforting him. “How have you been?”

Seonghwa’s lips curled into a smile and he shifted to pull one leg over the couch, giving you his full attention. “I’m okay. How have you been?”

You suppressed a giggle at the way he searched your eyes. “I’ve been well, thank you for asking, Mr. Park.”

“Would you like to go for dinner tomorrow night?” Seonghwa asked, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re just a few hours too late,” you let out a wistful sigh. “Wooyoung’s booked me for tomorrow night.”

“Can’t I join?” He pleaded and you raised a brow, knowing he very well could. Seonghwa shrugged. “He wants you all to himself, a little one-on-one with you. He’s never had that, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m not too worried. He knows how to get me talking and I’m really comfortable with him.”

“That’s good,” Seonghwa smiled, taking a deep breath and looking down. “You know, I’ve been wanting to take you out on dates too. I want to be a proper gentleman. Bring you your favourite flowers, take you out on walks. All I seem to do is give you more burden.” 

“That’s work,” you corrected. “That’s what we do. And it’s not like I’ve been doing this alone– we’re all in this together.”

Seonghwa sighed deeply, “I suppose you are right.”

You understood where he was coming from. “Even if we’re stuck up in this office room worried about and preparing for the worst case scenarios, you’ve still been a gentleman. You bring me chocolates from the reception, a flower from the pot outside–”

“I can do better than that,” Seonghwa interrupted with a laugh. “I just haven’t had the chance.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that. You probably want to go out of your way because we– we’re new, right? I don’t see you doing that with the rest of your… lovers. With the boys.”

“That’s because with them, it’s been a long time– and I do that with them too, just in private,” he confirmed and stifled a grin at the twinkle in your eyes. “You can’t stop me from doing that. It isn’t because what we have is new, it’s because I want to. I want to treat you better because I know I can do better than this.”

You supposed that it made sense. “Alright, you can bring me an actual bouquet of flowers and treat me to a dinner date when we have time. So far, our dates have mostly happened in the office, huh?” You pondered. “I think we might be past the stage of wooing each other…”

“I haven’t tried wooing you properly yet, though,” Seonghwa leaned in to whisper in your ear, making heat creep up your cheeks. “There’s only so much you can do in the office room.”

You shook your head. “You and Yunho… it’s the proximity getting to your heads, isn’t it?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Seonghwa feigned innocence, earning a smack to his chest. “What did he do?”

“He’s just…” you brought your knees up, unable to meet his gaze as you recalled all the times Yunho got romantic in the office. “So full of energy.”

Seonghwa laughed loudly. “He is. I get worried if I see him tired.”

You turned to Seonghwa, your eyes brimming with curiosity. It had been a while since you got to talk to him about such mundane stuff, anything that was not work and business. Seonghwa leaned in to share a sweet kiss before straightening.

“Ask away. I know you must have a lot of questions.”

You inhaled deeply, wondering how to make sense of the tangle of questions that you were harbouring in your head for days now. Seonghwa rubbed your hand assuringly and waited until you were able to form the words. 

“How is it like having so many partners, Seonghwa? I mean… how does it work between you guys? It looks like you hardly have time for each other– especially these days.”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly. He knew this question was long coming and he was glad that you were opening up and asking him– perhaps, hearing the answers would make you feel more at ease. He wanted to clear your confusions away as best as he could.

“It’s… great to have people I can depend on. People who have my back and who I can trust blindly,” he began and you smiled. It was truly a blessing to have utmost faith in someone, knowing you would never get hurt by them.

“After the war, we found each other over a period of time. I think some of us like San, Mingi and Jongho knew that we could never find a home except with each other. We all gladly accepted each other– as brothers and partners at first. As a family. We rebuilt Eden, starting from Sector 5 which took the worst of the war.”

“Because of the Eight Hills– it borders Strictland and Halaland,” you recalled hearing news about Sector 5 long after the war was over and he hummed in confirmation. 

“It was a tough time, I’ll admit, and we naturally found a safe haven with each other. There was no judgement, no jealousy, no restrictions. We were one and we were each other’s, yet free. It wasn’t until we became a gang in ‘64 when we finally talked about it and realised that we would always want to be with each other.”

“That… sounds beautiful, actually,” you whispered, in awe. “Was there really never a fight or some drama?”

“Not really. Someone would complain if they thought they weren’t getting enough attention from someone else, but that’s about it. We all lived together so it wasn’t a big deal at all. We only got separate housing a couple years ago.”

“Can I ask why?” 

Seonghwa chuckled. “It’s hard to live with 7 men and take care of them all at once. It was a unanimous decision.”

“And… how did you pick your housemates?” You asked, intrigued.

Seonghwa stifled a grin. “How do you think?”

“Don’t tell me it was a random pick,” you narrowed your eyes but when he pursed his lips in guilty admission, you shook your head in disbelief. “I figured– you all make the most unbelievable bets when you’re drinking,” you commented. “Can I ask another thing?”

“Sure,” Seonghwa looked at you with curiosity. “Don’t hold back. Transparency is appreciated here, Luna.”

“Are the sparks still there? After all this time?”

It was such a candid question that Seonghwa found himself smiling, moving his hand to cup your face and caress your cheekbone, his heart bursting with affection at how your eyes were just a little wide as you anticipated his answer, looking like you were holding your breath.

“Sounds like an important question, eh? Have you ever been in a relationship, Luna?”

“Tried and failed. Very casual, but it’s been a while,” you told him and he nodded.

“Did you feel sparks?” He asked and you raised your brows at his counter-question, but you felt at ease– there was no mockery in his tone.

“I think? You have to feel something in order to be with someone, right?” 

“I suppose that’s true,” Seonghwa rested his head against the couch, tired. “When you are with the right person, or people, Luna… there are no sparks. Sparks are meant to be exciting but eventually, they die out. It’s what is left after the initial sparks that makes all the difference. For me, personally… it feels like I’m floating freely among the clouds when I’m with them. Untrapped and unbound. That is what love feels like for me.”

His answer made perfect sense. Sparks were only an indicator of a beginning of something– what really mattered was what was left after the smoke cleared. 

You scooted closer and rested your head on his arm while he shut his eyes to rest them. 

Unguarded, vulnerable and exposed, yet… radiating with warmth and gentleness.

You truly were the luckiest if the mafia underboss let you see these sides of him.

There were times when you wondered if you should have never come back to Eden.

After all, would it have been so bad if you forgot about your past, your family and moved on? Was Wonderland not good to you?

Living in the mansion at the outskirts of the Capital, surrounded by expanses of lavender fields, learning about world history, politics and business with Madame Cha, and occasionally practising self defense of shooting with one of her boys– it wasn’t a bad life at all. You were looked after. Madame Cha cared for you as if you were really her niece, and you cared for her as an aunt.

And her boys– Jaebeom and his gang– they would always bring something for you whenever they came around. A flower from the field, an odd scarf that stood out to them in the marketplace, a dagger (which would immediately be confiscated by the Madame) or a ruffle to the hair, a kiss to the top of the head. You were their little sister. Their friend. 

So, would it have been selfish of you to want to continue living with Madame Cha? She sometimes joked about how she would like to pass her establishment to you– she did not have any family of her own and she claimed that her blood relatives were all ‘vultures’. She pretty much ran her trade business with Jaebeom and often mentioned that if you agreed to cut ties with your father, she would take you in as her own. Of course, it took a while before she warmed up to you, and she was awfully suspicious of you when you first arrived.

So, after spending three years in Wonderland when you decided to go back to Eden for good, she wasn’t surprised. She said that she always found you staring at the horizon with a wistful look on your face, looking as if you were wondering what could have been and what could be. She asked you something that would stay with you like a weight on your shoulder–

If you had really cut ties with your father, what was really calling you back to Eden?

At that time, you had no answer to that. When Jinyoung, the second-in-charge of the gang heard, he wondered if you were finally going to look for your birth mother. You told him that according to your father, she was dead and no good would come out of learning about her, but Jinyoung said that if she really was dead, your father should have no reason to hide her identity from you.

And that got you wondering if it really was true. Upon arriving back to Eden, you tried snooping around to find something, anything, but it was always a dead end. Even your half-brother Sunghoon did not know your mother’s identity. So that left your father–

And your father announced himself as your enemy as soon as you joined Kihyun’s company, a partner to the Crescent Company.

You initially speculated that it was Kihyun your father had a problem with. After all, he protected you far too many times from your father. But when you learned that your father still often met up with Kihyun regarding pharmaceutical-related dealings and that the MX Pharmaceuticals also distributed Park Pharma’s products, you started to wonder if your father simply hated you. 

And it was perhaps true, but there was also another answer– your father had a problem with the Crescent Company, and it wouldn’t have been obvious if you had no knowledge about silver light, because it changed a lot of things.

The Crescents would be rivals of not only the pharmaceutical businesses but basically every high-profile man who consumed silver light as a drug, or every person of power to whom the drug was merely a currency to exploit this world’s resources. You could not even fathom out just how extensive their network was. Could an organisation like Ateez really expose their propaganda and stop the exploitation of silver light as a pleasure drug or currency?

If that network had lasted so long without the name of silver light coming out of the mouth of a common man, you were pretty sure that it would be extremely challenging, even with Madame Tiffany’s partnership– and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that Madame Tiffany was going to be the source of the Crescents’ demise rather than salvation…

“I go to make tea for you and you look like you’re drafting a plan to take over the world,” Wooyoung scoffed, having proven himself true when he said that you were distracted the whole evening.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw you staring at the tea leaves for a solid two minutes before you moved,” you countered and he smiled guiltily, settling down next to you and bringing you in for a kiss to your temple before he handed you the cup.

“Now, what’s got my girl all bothered?”

Your response stopped midway when you heard the jingle of the keys and in came Hongjoong and Jongho, discussing something in a low voice and taking off their shoes in the foyer. Their eyes lit up at the sight of you–

But you were busy shaking off your initial surprise. Of course they could come here. This was their house. 

You just didn’t expect them to come back so early, and it seemed like Wooyoung didn’t as well because he let out a frustrated ‘you’re interrupting my date!’, which led to Hongjoong rolling his eyes and Jongho threatening to throw him out, the air filling with friendly squabble as they all settled down in the living room.

The date had truly not been without distractions and interruptions, but considering the circumstances, you would say that it went pretty well. You took the evening off and went to your apartment to get ready, borrowing a cap-sleeved black dress from Wendy who was simply pleased that you were going out with someone, no matter who it was. You promised to tell her who it was some other time but she was pretty sure it was one of the Crescents from the office. You let her believe that and she styled your hair with a jade pin, adding a deep brown fur coat on you as a finishing touch.

Wooyoung came to pick you up, an absolute gentleman to the bone who kissed your knuckles in greeting and opened the door of his car for you. You had dinner at one of the fancy restaurants in the food street of Sector 1– a lavish dinner that reminded you of what you used to eat back home in Edenary. 

Wooyoung was talkative and kept you engaged in conversation, but the two of you were consciously trying to avoid discussing work. You talked about your likes and dislikes, about your past and your relationships, and unsurprisingly, you found a lot in common with him. You both were the type to speak your mind about things so the conversation flowed naturally, drifting from preferences to some stories of your pasts.

But you could tell that the recent happenings were weighing Wooyoung down, even though he did his best to make sure that you were comfortable and having a good time. With a gentle squeeze to his hand as you took a walk in his area, you told him that if he would like, he could talk to you about anything that weighed on his mind. He invited you for tea and here you were, joined by his housemates.

“How was your first date?” Jongho asked, wiggling his brows teasingly and your eyes darted over to Hongjoong who was sitting comfortably on the sofa in front of you, an eyebrow slightly raised indicating his anticipation to hear your answer.

“Well,” you glanced at Wooyoung who was eagerly awaiting your answer. “Let’s just say you all have some competition now. The bar has been set.”

Wooyoung clapped loudly while Hongjoong snickered under his breath, clearly amused. “See? I told you I would set her standards high. Good luck crossing the bar, folks.”

“I’m happy to hear you had a good time,” Hongjoong looked at you earnestly and watched your smile drop. He shook his head and added, “You needed that. It’s not good to be so stressed all the time, and I heard that our little secretary has been zoning out at work a lot.”

Your lips formed into a pout as you folded your arms. “I can’t help it. We tried hard not to get distracted by the work stress during our dinner too, but… decided to give in and just talk at home, with some tea.”

“You guys want some?” Wooyoung asked and when the two nodded, he muttered something about how he brewed extra just in case and in no time, you were all in a deep discussion of the recent updates.

The situation was nowhere near dying down hence the pressure looming over everyone’s head. With the illegal trades put on hold entirely while the Edenary Station investigated the case in collaboration with the prosecution, Hongjoong was worried if Madame Tiffany was going to retract from their recent deal and if rumours about the Crescents’ possession of silver light were going to get rampant.

“They could easily charge us on the basis of illegal drug trade and confiscate all our possession of silver light if it comes to that,” Hongjoong explained. “That’s the worst case scenario but I’m preparing to make it look like our hands are clean. They can charge us but they will never find the evidence that we possess the drug.”

“We’re going to have to contact some underworld dealers in that case,” Jongho clarified. “For now, we’re just hoping we can get away with a heavy fine and they do not dig further.”

You nodded along. “No idea about the source of the tip?”

Hongjoong shook his head grimly. His knuckles almost whitened as he clenched his fists, clearly agitated. You looked towards Wooyoung who was already staring at the boss’s hands, no stranger to his mannerism.

“We’ll get to that,” he assured with a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood again. “I’m getting my boys to sniff around. They’re like hounds so we’ll know in no time.”

“I don’t think it is that simple this time,” Hongjoong admitted, making both Jongho and Wooyoung shift uncomfortably in their seats. Perhaps, this was the first time their leader expressed his opinion about the matter. 

Hongjoong glanced over at his capos and then at you. “Something tells me that this is the beginning of the end.”

You frowned. “The end of what?”

“The end of our attempt to present ourselves as something we are not– a legal, respectable business organisation,” Hongjoong said, straightening his shirt and leaning forward, meeting eyes with the youngests. “I’m coming back from hearing whispers in the wind– someone is trying their damned best to bring Ateez out of the shadows.”

“If they want us back that bad, they can have us,” Wooyoung started. “We can call ourselves the Crescents as much as we want, but we will always be Ateez. A gang.”

“I hope they are just whispers,” you said, your own voice sounding unconvincing and Hongjoong caught that. 

“I hope so too,” he said earnestly, and something told you that he knew about how you would be getting a confirmation soon. You gulped uneasily, checking your wrist for the time.

“Don’t let that keep you up at night, Captain,” Jongho said, getting up and clapping, breaking the tension in the room. “Everyone knows who we are, and this isn’t the first time someone has attempted to trigger us. Once we find the source, everything will fall into place. Business will get running.”

“He’s right,” Wooyoung nodded. “If they want us back so badly, I’m happy to go back to my old ways. It gets tiring to act like a refined gentleman when I’m anything but.”

Jongho laughed mockingly and you frowned at him. What he said next had you covering your mouth.

“You’ve never been a refined gentleman.”

Wooyoung put his hands over his hips, challenging Jongho while Hongjoong got up, sliding between them and joining you in a corner before they started squaring up, finding you thoroughly amused by the scene in front of you.

“I don’t know what I expected when I joined the inner circle, but this…” you watched Wooyoung patting Jongho’s arm aggressively, pleading for him to stop between laughs while the younger had him in a chokehold. “This was certainly not it.”

“They’re still young boys at heart,” Hongjoong smiled rather proudly. “I wish I can protect their spirits forever.”

You glanced over at Hongjoong, curiosity piqued. 

“And what about you?”

Hongjoong’s lips curled in a surprised smile but the only response he gave was a subtle nod– perhaps, a gesture of gratitude that you thought about him at this moment. He clapped loudly and immediately, the boys straightened.

“Take your date home, Wooyoung. You and I have places to go in the early morning.”

“Yessir,” Wooyoung straightened his clothes and beckoned you to follow him outside and you exited the house, joking about what happened moments ago.

It was during the short car ride that Wooyoung took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for today, Luna. I really needed a breather.”

“So did I,” you smiled, playing with the straps of your purse. “It was a wonderful first date, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Had to do our new member some justice. The hyungs keep you holed up in their office, though…” He stole a glance, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m sure you like that too.”

“Hey,” you smacked his arm, no longer shy. “I spent almost two years at the bar too.”

“But Yeosang did not really realise how much he liked you until you left the bar,” Wooyoung shared. “I knew he liked you, though. I told him that he should make a move, but he was wary of you. Makes sense now.”

“Wary of me?” 

“Imagine if he started dating you and found out who you are much later. I’m not sure he would have liked that– he doesn't like secrets,” Wooyoung said, stopping the car when he reached your street.

“Noted,” you shrugged. “I’m not sure I would have accepted at that time either. I had secrets to protect, after all.”

“And are there more secrets you’re keeping, Luna?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes always seemed sharp, however, there was a certain glint to them as he asked that question, almost of a protective nature. If it would have been anyone else, you might have been a bit offended, but since this was Wooyoung, a fierce protector of his group, you did not mind the apprehension in his eyes one bit.

So you slid your hand over his and squeezed it in assurance. “Nothing of importance. I’m a pretty open book now. Especially with Seonghwa and Yunho– I don’t know how they do it, but I find myself speaking my mind and baring my soul when I’m with them.”

The corner of Wooyoung’s lips tugged in a small smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You smiled back and he kissed the back of your hand, the tension breaking as you both broke into laughter. He got out of the car first and opened the door for you, spreading his arms and bringing you in for a nice, warm hug. 

“Don’t stress too much about what’s happened, sweetheart,” he said as he swayed you back and forth in the hug. You squeezed the material of his coat in response. “Things like these happen all the time. It’s just that people forget that we made our way up all the way from rock bottom.”

“And rock bottom never scared you,” you finished and he pulled away with a proud smile. 

“That’s right,” he cupped your face. “I sure hope things get better, but if they don’t, we’ll be okay.”

“I have faith in that,” you said and he kissed the top of your head in farewell.

However… faith can only get you so far, for things get worse before they get better. Just like the cold winds in Sector 1 shifting to an icy breeze with the telltale signs that it had snowed in the mountains, the Crescents’ fate took a darker turn when Jaebeom arrived at the Crescent Office bearing news of confirmation. 

You welcomed Jaebeom into Yunho’s office with a heavy heart, and it did not help that he was struggling to smile. Your stomach twisted in knots, hand almost shaking as you poured fresh tea for the man.

As Jaebeom spoke, the walls of Yunho’s office room felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you as if you were trapped in a small space. You listened to his every word carefully, nodding along and when he apologised for not bringing good news, you told him that it was something you already expected– it was as if deep down, you knew that a storm was coming.

Only you didn’t realise the storm would be in the form of a typhoon, threatening to shake the ground from underneath your feet. Jaebeom got up to leave and patted your head, sharing your sentiments and telling you that he would be in contact for further updates, and that if the Crescents ever needed a helping hand, Jaebeom’s gang along with Madame Cha were at their service. 

That did nothing to quell the unease in your heart. After being left alone, you slumped down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, wishing the sky would burst open and take you away from this dark, wretched world. There were no tears left to cry– with each passing second, you mustered up the little fragments of strength that threatened to leave your body. With each passing minute, you straightened up as you let the information and its implications sink in.

And with each passing hour, you waited. Waited for the underboss to arrive so that you could deliver the news to him. 

Strangely, it made you recall that night when you risked everything to obey Yeosang’s orders and get the contents of his locker safely out of the Crescent Bar, when you were under attack. Except… 

There was nowhere to escape now. No gambles to make, no tables to turn.

It must have been around midnight when the boss and his underboss arrived at the Crescent Office to store some documents and get some ledgers before moving to their house to get some rest. Upon finding the light of Yunho’s office on, they wondered if Yunho had already arrived back from Sector 8– the consigliere had been out all day tracing the source of the tip with Kihyun’s men and had ringed the office to let them know that he might not be back tonight.

But when Seonghwa found you curled up on the couch with your head resting against your knees, he immediately knew something was wrong. Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong to confirm if he was the only one who got that feeling and when he found the boss’ brows scrunched with worry, he gently approached you.

You straightened at the sight of Seonghwa, sighing in relief but your heart quickly twisted with anxiety at the sight of the Captain. How were you to tell him that you both had doomed the Crescents, perhaps, with no return?

“Did something happen?” Seonghwa held you by your shoulders and scanned your figure. You pursed your lips and took a few deep breaths, motioning at Hongjoong to take a seat. 

“I finally heard back from Madame Cha,” you looked at the Captain and he raised a brow, leaning forward, eager to hear more. You wondered if you were the only one feeling bile rise up your throat.

Surely, Hongjoong had no idea who Madame Tiffany was, right?

About a minute of silence passed with the men exchanging glances between each other. Hongjoong exhaled, slumping back in resignation.

“Just tell us how fucked we are, Luna. I’m ready to hear it.”

A short laugh escaped your mouth and Hongjoong resisted the urge to comment on the sarcastic tone of it. “Fucked would be an understatement, Hongjoong. Tiffany is involved with the elites who are pushing for Strictland’s nuclear operation to become successful.”

“Strictland’s nuclear operation,” Hongjoong repeated, his gaze sticking on the teacup you had been drinking from. 

“Their end goal is triggering a regional war so Eden and Halaland get distracted. Strictland can test their nuclear weapons around that time, but there are rumours that as soon as Strictland makes that move, Eden or someone else from this continent might attempt its annexation,” you added and Seonghwa cursed under his breath.

“Triggering a regional war– they could achieve that through a lot of ways,” Seonghwa deliberated. “Either blow Strictland’s cover and make it known that the nuclear base has been active, or find another reason important enough that turns Eden and Halaland against each other. Either way, the Treaty of the Eight Hills gets violated.”

“If they need to test their nuclear weapons, a war could be a good time to do that,” Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment, head hanging low in defeat. “I can’t believe we’re close to seeing another war in our lifetime.”

Silence filled a room at his statement before Hongjoong spoke again. “Madame Tiffany signed on the silver light deal with us while knowing exactly who we are. The question remains– did she agree on silver light’s medical distribution to have the upper hand as she controls the world of the elites, or does she intend to end us– our company?”

“If she was the one who tipped the navy about the shipment to Mist Island…” Seonghwa said what you both were thinking out loud. “It would be the very first step to trigger our doom. She must be working with an insider to know exactly how much damage this would do–”

“We don’t know that yet,” Hongjoong looked at the underboss and your eyes twitched at his statement. “It could be anyone–”

“It can not be anyone, and you know that, Captain,” you declared and Hongjoong cocked his head at the stiffness of your tone. “Think about the timing of this all. Tipping the navy right when we’re about to launch the silver light drug? Too big of a coincidence.”

“I’m trying to give her the benefit of doubt and see if we have another enemy– someone who might be far worse than Tiffany,” Hongjoong counter with narrowed eyes. “Tiffany might be a bait even in their game if she really signed the deal of silver light for another, much sinister purpose.”

“Don’t be fooled, Hongjoong,” you told him. “The elites– they all work together, not against each other. If Tiffany is part of the elites who intend to make sure that silver light never sees the light of the day as a medicinal drug, then you don’t have just one enemy but an entire group of people with power, from all over the continent–”

“You think I did not consider that when I shook hands with that woman?” 

Hongjoong’s tone was so cold and sharp that it made you hold your breath. 

“I needed someone with power to be our partner on this. Someone with a status that could match that of the elites. So what if they are a member of the elites themselves? If that means that they protect us when we launch this drug into the market, it doesn’t matter who they are.”

“You know how limited our options were, Luna,” Seonghwa said in a soft tone, sliding his hand over your clenched fist and rubbing it assuringly.  “Sure, signing with Tiffany could be a big mistake, but we don’t know that yet, and we cannot take the next step until we confirm that Tiffany intends to destroy our company. You know how important this deal is to us. You understand, right?”

“I do,” you took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. “I just… I keep seeing my father’s cocky smile when he learned that we’re aiming to partner with Tiffany. It’s as if he knew.”

“We’ll start looking into it properly now that we have a potential lead,” Hongjoong said, this time much gently. “We will also make preparations for what could be another attack on the Crescent Company.”

You nodded in gratitude and Hongjoong held your gaze– if this was just another day, he would have reprimanded you for talking to him like that, but he understood how anxious this made you considering you already had an inkling of what the elites had been planning all this time. 

“Can your source…”

“Lim Jaebeom,” you told Hongjoong and he nodded, memorising the name. 

“Can Jaebeom name all parties involved in this scheme if possible?”

“I’ll send him a message and arrange a meeting,” you said. “He shifted his focus on Madame Tiffany now but he’s been looking into this for a while so his information can be trusted.”

“Good. I trust you, Luna,” Hongjoong said, getting up. “Let’s go home and get some rest. We’ll start planning in the morning, okay?”

You nodded weakly and Hongjoong gazed softly at you, drawing closer and resting his hand on your cheek. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he almost whispered and you mustered up the remnants of your diminishing strength to meet his eyes. “We are warriors, all of us. Not just the nine of us, but the rest of the employees of the Crescent Company. All of us share the same goal– to protect this homeland and to provide the next generations with some sense of security. If that means that we have to fight the very people who wish for the demise of the entire continent… so be it. They may be the leaders of this society, but we…”

“We are the leaders of the underworld,” you quoted him and watched his lips curl in a satisfied smirk. “The underworld that no one escapes from.”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong said, planting a chaste kiss on your temple. “Straighten your shoulders and never look back, you hear me?”

You looked in Seonghwa’s direction, finding him smiling almost proudly. He passed a subtle nod and you finally managed a smile on your own.

These men would remind you time and time again that no matter how dark it gets, you rule the darkness. You had no reason to be afraid.

That did not help the stress too much though, and naturally, you found yourself standing outside the back exit of the Crescent Bar yet again, staring at the dim lights that peeked from the frosted windows. You debated going home instead but your heart knew what it wanted so you discreetly made your way to Yeosang’s office, not bothering to knock but slightly opening the door to check who was inside.

San spotted you, seated on the chair in front of Yeosang and he smiled at the sight of you, urging you to come inside. Yeosang’s eyes lit up as soon as you entered but when he found your shoulders sunken and form weary, he immediately knew something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked, hesitantly getting up as if unsure what to do.

“Not really,” you let out a short laugh, looking up at the ceiling and willing yourself not to break down. Now was not the time. 

San and Yeosang moved in synchronisation as if they had done this several times already. San took your bag from you and placed it on the table, taking off your coat next and going to hang it on the stand. Yeosang gently brought you in a hug, caressing your head silently. 

You took a deep breath– the warmth of his hug was definitely helping with the ease of your mind. You felt San’s hands on your shoulders, gently massaging the tension out of your body while you stood still. The two of them waited until you broke apart, feeling a bit refreshed. 

“You wanna talk about it?” San asked, hands still on your shoulders and a light kiss planted on your cheek.

“I already did, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Things will be okay, they assured me. I’m just…” you sighed, meeting eyes with the both of them.

“Tired?” Yeosang suggested and you laughed in admission. “Sick of it?”

“You can curse at them if you want to,” San squared up, making you laugh harder. “We’ll join. Hongjoong can be an ass, right?”

“Stubborn ass–”

“An extremely stubborn ass,” you interjected Yeosang and they smirked in victory. “What makes it more frustrating is that he’s always right.”

“This!” San clapped in agreement. “If he rubbed this in our face, that would perhaps be better than the silent victory judgmental glare thing that he does.”

You chuckled under your breath– so it wasn’t just you. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s easier to deal with someone pompous than to deal with someone who doesn’t realise their own power.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Yeosang assured, but then glanced at San. “Or not.”

“You don’t get used to it,” San corrected. “You just learn to live with it and deal with it.”

“Sounds tiring,” you sank down on your chair and Yeosang poured you a drink, the duo snickering at something. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” San smiled. “It’s just nice to know that you found your way here.”

“Yeah, it’s on my way home. Don’t make too much of it,” you teased and San poked your shoulder before settling down on the chair next to you on your left, clasping his hand around yours. 

You made small talk, getting some recent updates on how the bar was functioning (without you, you made a point to highlight). The conversation shifted to your recent date with Wooyoung and how he could not stop boasting about being the first and only gentleman in the group.

“It’s funnier this time because usually, he’s an absolute goner who can’t keep his hands off a new partner,” San revealed and that piqued your curiosity. “He’s taking his time with you. He must really like you.”

“He’s always liked me, don’t be mistaken,” you told him and the duo agreed– Wooyoung was perhaps the only one of the Crescents who was friendly with you before you became a bookkeeper. “I thought he’s a bit sceptical of me, but maybe that’s just me?”

“How so?” Yeosang asked.

“He asked if I have any secrets that I’m keeping from you guys. He seems very protective of you all.”

“That’s just how he is,” San chuckled. “It’s not scepticism, not really. Just his protective nature.”

“He probably wanted to see how you would respond,” Yeosang snickered in amusement. “He knows right away if someone lies.”

“I… will keep that in mind for the future,” you said and San narrowed his eyes.

“Who do you plan to lie to?”

“Not him,” you said and the boys laughed. “You seem gullible. You’d be my target, San.”

“Not fair!” He tried snatching his hand away but you kept your grip tight around his hand. 

The sound of your laughter filled the room. Outside, a woman with silver hair hiding the little of her face that was visible from her cloak stood near the door with her own drink in her hand, her lips threatening to curl into a smile. As soon as the door of the office opened, she shifted her body towards the shadow in an attempt to appear inconspicuous.

As you said your goodbyes to the men, San escorting you to the exit, you thought you heard Yeosang’s voice– ‘winter’, he said. You turned to look but there was no one in the shadows anymore.

However, the next day as you switched your belongings from one bag to another, you found a crumpled piece of paper. Being the kind of person who usually folded paper instead of crumpling it, you flattened the paper and found a message written on it.

You read it, once, twice. And then you tossed it in the fireplace.

“What do you mean it was Secretary Oh Jungse?”

Hongjoong’s voice practically boomed in the room as he spoke into the receiver, making you and Seonghwa pause in the middle of arranging the documents. Seonghwa looked at you but you shrugged, not recognising the name.

“And you’re positive about the source?”

For a moment, you straightened, heart beating with anticipation. Did you finally have the source of the tip? Had it finally worked out? 

But Hongjoong’s tight grip on the receiver revealed that it was perhaps something else, probably of a more alarming nature. As if to confirm, Hongjoong slammed the receiver down to end the call and you shivered, the temperature in the room noticeably dropping.

It was another gloomy morning in the Crescent Office with you and Seonghwa compiling some reports to present to the Edenary Office to help with the illegal shipment case. The ringing of the telephone had started to sound ominous for a few days now. You had stopped expecting to hear any good news, and watching Hongjoong clench and unclench both his fists and his jaw while his gaze fixed at the revolver lying on the table had you squirming in your seat.

“What is it?” Seonghwa asked, but Hongjoong shook his head, still processing the information.

Seonghwa got up and moved towards the main desk where Hongjoong sat. He gently approached him with an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, rubbing it to provide some comfort. You watched as the tension in the boss’ body started to dissipate with each gentle rub, and you could see that Seonghwa was muttering assurances, fixing his hair and caressing his face every once in a while.

Hongjoong took a deep breath and looked towards you, motioning you to come closer. You dropped the files on the table and took the seat in front of him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“It was Yunho– someone is deliberately targeting our business. Remember the anonymous funder for our weapons project? The one whose identity we could not find out?”

“That’s Secretary Oh?” Seonghwa frowned. “Isn’t he…”

“President Han’s secretary,” Hongjoong confirmed and your jaw went slack after hearing the connection. “The man who supposedly went into hiding when President Han was assassinated. He was supposed to deliver the funds to us but got arrested on suspicions of treason. He’s under interrogation right now.”

“I remember hearing things about that man,” you leaned forward. “Things like how he might have been involved in the assassination itself, or how he was targeted after the assassination as well.”

“I don’t think he was involved in the killing of the president, but you can never be too sure,” Hongjoong pursed his lips in thought, holding Seonghwa’s hand and squeezing it to let him know that he was okay now. “The Edenary Station is now aware of our weapons project and is going to proceed with investigation, but… I’m not sure if they learned that from Secretary Oh or if this was pre-planned.”

“They must have tortured him quite a bit for him to confess,” Seonghwa winced at the thought. “Secretary Oh has done a lot to hide his identity. To be caught now of all the times…”

“Or someone found out about Secretary Oh and decided to use that to expose our weapons dealings,” you countered and Hongjoong agreed. “I’m going to ring the Edenary Office and get Jaehyun on the move. I know how the Edenary Station will proceed with this case.”

“You do that,” Hongjoong passed you the receiver and you called Jaehyun, requesting him to keep watch over Secretary Oh and see who visits the man or if anyone bails him. Jaehyun assured that he would keep an eye and check the public sentiment while he was at it.

“So now…” you said when you ended the call. “All of Eden will know that the Crescents have been smuggling weapons.”

“Not so quickly, no,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Edenary Station will make sure the public does not learn about this. The public will be with us on this because the majority of the war veterans believe that our current office isn’t doing a good job with the nation’s security. And President Lee’s position will not look good if the public learns that a ‘gang’ is doing more for national security than the office.”

“Plus with Major Sung’s recent visit, people are already condemning the president,” Seonghwa added. “They wish to learn what they talked about, but President Lee is keeping mum.”

“As he should be,” Hongjoong stretched his neck, producing cracks. “The boys are on their way here, all of them. It’s time we get things straight and retaliate against whoever is targeting us.”

You finished compiling the report with Seonghwa while you waited for the rest of the Crescents to arrive. Yunho, San and Yeosang were the first ones, having been out making sure that the silver light batches were safely moved to a different location in case the recent happenings were a scheme to stop the Crescents from trying to manufacture the drug into the market. The warehouse boys arrived next after making sure to get rid of any tails that would lead the Edenary Station to find their base for weapons dealings. 

You were all chatting among yourselves, catching up and exchanging updates when Hongjoong clapped to get everyone’s attention. The boys started to settle down, but you pursed your lips in amusement when you saw Yunho, who was standing next to Hongjoong, shoot subtle glares at anyone who had not shut up yet. He caught you stifling a smile and you watched his eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief.

“How’s it looking at the warehouse?” Hongjoong asked Mingi.

“Pledis has agreed to pause all weapons-related manufacturing until things settle down. They won’t back out. We spread the word in the underground network and all weapons dealings and exchange will be put to a halt until further notice.”

“I met up with Changbin,” Wooyoung said and you asked Jongho, who was sitting next to you, about who Changbin was. You learned that he was a member of Chan’s gang– Wolfgang. “They’re also going to pause all dealings because they fear that they might get exposed, and they are open for a chat in case we want to team up and find whoever is behind this.”

You were surprised to hear that. You had kept the little chat with Chan back at Edenary from the boys since they were rivals, but hearing that they were open to being allies for once had you intrigued. 

“Team up?” San scoffed. “That’s new.”

“They wouldn’t want to get involved with the police either,” Jongho mused. “They may be our rivals but we share the same goal.”

Hongjoong nodded, revealing the contents of his phone call with Yunho and a string of gasps and curses sounded across the room. “Now… what do we make of this?”

“It can’t be denied that we are being deliberately targeted,” Wooyoung started. “I would like us to focus on why Secretary Oh, of all the anonymous funders, was the one chosen to be exposed like this– he was attacked, you say, and arrested? His life could be in danger.”

“Sounds like a good place to start,” San agreed. “It can’t be a big coincidence– not anymore. Someone is trying to attack the very foundation of the Crescents. Of Ateez.”

“I feel like we’re missing a big link among all the things that have happened recently,” Yeosang spoke with a sense of sobriety and you looked at him, grateful that he felt the same. “With Tiffany’s possible connection to the Strictland programme and our deal with silver light which, by the way, she’s awfully quiet about… I’d like to have some eyes on her too.”

“I agree,” Seonghwa began. “Either she does not fear a tarnished reputation, or… she’s involved somehow. I still don’t get why she would opt for this route– tipping the navy and then exposing an anonymous funder. If she wants silver light all to herself, she could have gone for a less messier option.”

“I doubt that,” you commented, making everyone look at you. “These elites… they have a way of operating, especially when they aim to create some significant damage. The quicker, less messier options do not sound appealing to them.”

Hongjoong nodded in consideration. “Either way, we have to take a step back and secure our footing. Yunho, if you will?”

Yunho nodded, getting up and looking around the room in thought. “I think first and foremost, we need to make sure that the weapons channel remains safe and unexposed to any outsiders. That means that we must form partnerships with other gangs and we should start contacting the funders to let them know about the situation– anonymous ones too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hongjoong exhaled. “Mingi, Wooyoung, and Luna– you can work on this since the three of you have the most connections. If you need some help, Yunho or Seonghwa can join.”

You agreed, meeting eyes with your new partners who passed you a nod and a cheeky smile. 

“Next, San and Yeosang should continue to make sure the silver light medicinal production begins at one of the MX Pharmaceuticals’ factories. It doesn’t matter if someone is targeting us to stop the launch of this medicine because the only people who might be behind this must want to keep the current status of silver light intact– a pleasure drug.”

“The elites,” you sighed and Yunho nodded. “Do you reckon that these are the same people who are working for the Strictland programme?”

“That’s what me and Jongho will start looking into,” Yunho said. “We’ll get General Wi and other Edenary figures to start sniffing around too and see where it takes us. We might need you to join us in that case, Luna.”

“Happy to help,” you assured.

“Hongjoong,” Yunho looked at the Captain. “I think you are due a meeting with President Son. If there’s one person who might know where Secretary Oh’s loyalty stands, it’s him. And make sure we know what Madame Tiffany’s stance on this is.”

“Fine, I’ll contact them,” Hongjoong groaned. “Can’t say President Son will be pleased to hear that we want to meet him.”

“I don’t think he’ll be that mad to see you,” Wooyoung chuckled as the Captain’s pout deepened. “You’re just a tiny bit intimidated by him, admit it.”

“Yes, so what if I am?” Hongjoong pulled out his pipe to everyone’s amusement, Seonghwa automatically retrieving a lighter from his pocket and helping Hongjoong. “It would be unwise not to be intimidated by the person who ran this country for the majority of our lives.”

“Well then,” Yunho clapped in conclusion. “I think we’re all sorted now. Captain?”

Hongjoong took a deep smoke, meeting eyes with all of you before he started. “I think it is about time we stopped acting like the Crescents and started acting like Ateez. Do you get what I mean?”

Silence filled the room and you watched how each one of them shifted in their seats at Hongjoong’s proposition. Hongjoong leaned forward, taking another smoke and clearing his throat. 

“Some fucker out there has forgotten that we rose from nothing, and we are not afraid of the darkness, yeah?” Hongjoong’s voice had significantly deepened and you were surprised at the change in his demeanour. “Get your weapons out. Show them what we are made of. We will not allow our establishment to fall, you hear me?”

There was another moment of silence and Seonghwa took the lead then, straightening his coat. 

“We will probably get attacked more often– our bases and offices might get compromised, so let’s be careful and on guard, okay? We have to stay one step ahead now, so everyone… get to business.”

“And it’s probably not one person,” Hongjoong completed his train of thought, saying out loud what everyone suspected. “I really don’t think it’s just a single entity anymore. We’ve got a mole, that’s for sure. Find them immediately and report to me, and make sure our people are protected before you step out in the field, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes boss’ and ‘yes captain!” echoed in the room, the men immediately starting on breaking and dividing tasks while you went to take the now empty chair beside the Captain who offered you his pipe jokingly. He was surprised when you accepted.

Hongjoong watched you blow the smoke, the noise in the room almost fading momentarily and he shook his head lightly. You asked him for a favour and he raised a brow in question. You explained that it was something that weighed over your mind and you always wanted to do, and he agreed. 

After the meeting, you finished your tasks for the night and informed Eunha and Jihoon about the shift in your duties. They took over your work, assuring you that they got it covered and prayed for you– anything to end this mess, they said. If your presence at the warehouse would speed things up, they would gladly let you go. 

After sending Hongjoong and Seonghwa home for the night, Yunho joined you in the office, watching you fret over the unfinished work. He assured you that it was okay, but you weren’t having any of it. When he shut the folders to your protests, your pout deepened and you folded your arms.

“Do you want to come over at my place?”

“At your place?” You narrowed your eyes and he laughed discreetly. “What are you planning?”

“Ramen and cuddles, if you will?”

You pretended to think for a moment but agreed. How could you resist the offer–

“And some kisses if we can squeeze that in too.”

Right. 

“So you’re just lovesick, huh? None of the boys giving you attention lately?” You teased, getting up and gathering your things. 

“Oh, Wooyoung almost killed me with affection earlier,” Yunho recalled with a laugh and you scoffed. That sounded like Wooyoung, alright. “I just miss you. Is that so bad?”

“I miss you too,” you said, linking your arms, too tired to continue teasing him. The two of you started downstairs. “We haven’t had one stress-free moment ever since you decided to give me some space, Mr. Jeong.”

“That’s when you were still pretending to make up your mind about us,” he said, opening the door of his car for you and you gasped scandalously. Yunho got in himself, looking at you before starting the engine. “Hope nothing holds you back tonight.”

With a wink, he started to drive, stifling a grin when you smacked his shoulder and folded your arms. You tugged your coat closer, still feeling the cold from when you stepped outside the office and you looked outside of the window, finding not a single star in the sky.

“Looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

“Or snow,” Yunho whistled. “Would love to see some snow soon.”

You looked over at him. “Seems like someone has some fond memories of the snow.”

He smiled and nodded in answer, the rest of the short trip passing by with talks about your weather preferences when you reached a small house in the same neighbourhood where San’s house was. 

“I heard that you came up with the housing arrangement very randomly,” you said as you got out of the car and Yunho chuckled at the memory. “Do you like how it turned out?”

“It never mattered who we got paired with,” he admitted, unlocking the door for you and turning on the lights. You took off your shoes, greeted with a surprisingly homey vibe with warm-toned interior and furniture. “We only really come here to rest. Plus, we crash at each other’s house too often anyway.”

You nodded, taking off your coat and hanging it on the stand before following Yunho to the kitchen. While it almost looked unused, there were still signs that someone was taking care of the house. You stood near the counter and watched Yunho quickly make work of the few ingredients that he found, tossing the ramen in the pot. You offered help but he insisted that he was fine so you decided to set the table.

“Is Yeosang not home?” You asked and he shook his head.

“He’s probably with Mingi tonight– I saw the two of them leaving together earlier.”

“Do they still have some work, or…” 

Yunho glanced at you. “They’re probably going to blow off some steam before they start working tomorrow.”

“Ah, right– oh,” you subconsciously put your hand over your mouth when you realised what Yunho had implied and he laughed loudly. 

“Is it strange to hear things like that?” 

“No, not really,” you confirmed. You had seen your fair share of open relationships in Edenary– and half of the time, you had been too young to fully understand what it meant. “It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to picture some of you together.”

“Well, you’ll be quite surprised to learn how closely knit we are,” Yunho finished cooking and brought the pot to the table, the two of you settling down with a few cans of beer. “Took us a few years to get here, I’ll say, but it has never been better.”

You nodded, asking if he could tell you more– as much as he was comfortable with, and he was pleased to find you eager to learn more about them since you were a part of them now too. You learned that Mingi and Yeosang were quite alike, often seeking solace in each other’s company, even if it was just sitting together in silence.

“And how are you with everyone?” You asked, resting your face on your hands as you gazed at him with curiosity. Yunho found that adorable and his eyes curved as smiled at your question. “What sort of a relationship do you have with everyone?”

“Hmm… let’s see,” Yunho pondered for a moment, drinking a few sips of his beer. “Mingi and I have always been together so he’s someone I’m always looking for in a room full of people, if you haven’t noticed already.”

“Yeah, you two absolutely love each other,” you agreed. “Moral loyalty and all that.”

Yunho grinned. “I think with Yeosang, it’s… more on the comfortable side. He takes care of me a lot, especially now that we live together. His presence… you know how comforting it is to sit in one room with him, right?”

You nodded. “I keep finding myself going back to the Crescent Bar and to his office when I’m overwhelmed.”

Yunho smiled. “With the younger ones, I’m able to have fun and let go, be adventurous and wild. But with the hyungs, they just need someone to take care of them and I’m happy to be that for them.”

“It’s surprising because they appear very calm and put-together, very refined,” you started, producing a snort out of Yunho. “But they’re just like the rest of you. Worse, if I have to say.”

“That’s true,” Yunho laughed heartily. “They are worse. The younger ones always take care of them, but don’t you be mistaken, Luna. The hyungs can be quite… dominating when they want to be. It’s almost scary.”

“Dominating,” you repeated, drinking as you analysed the implications behind that word. “How nice.”

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” Yunho chuckled in a low tone.

“Nothing,” you feigned innocence, finishing the last of your beer. “Absolutely nothing.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes but you took a deep breath, looking around. “It’s just really nice to sit and talk. Haven’t done that in a while, even with Wendy.”

“We’ve all been far too busy,” Yunho agreed, getting up and quickly cleaning up before taking your hands and making you get up, twirling you around once which made you laugh out loud rather uncharacteristically before he steered you to the living room. 

“It’s always like this though,” Yunho continued as he settled you down on his lap and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. He took off your hair clip and began to smoothen your hair, running his fingers through the strands occasionally. “Something is always happening. Not one peaceful moment ever since we started, but that became the norm for us. That’s why we always try to find some normalcy while we can.”

You let his words sink in, just like you let the warmth of his skin seep through his clothes and into yours, just like you let the sound of his breaths sync with yours. The contact of his fingertips on your scalp as he lightly massaged it made you close your eyes and snuggle closer until the tip of your nose met the crook of his neck.

“Well, this is nice,” you whispered, the feeling of being in his arms almost intoxicating. “It’s going to be a while before we get to be like this again, isn’t that so?”

“I suppose so,” Yunho sighed. “You’ll be very busy with Wooyoung and Mingi, and I’ll be busy with Jongho hopping from one place to another–”

Yunho paused mid-sentence when he felt the soft skin of your lips press against his neck lightly and he shifted underneath you. “We might still see each other– well, I’ll try to make time for you if you want–”

He stopped talking yet again when you moved closer and craned your neck to kiss the curve of his jaw. Yunho held your hand and peered down at you, finding your eyes laden with something he had definitely not seen before.

“Love… what do you think you are doing?”

“Squeezing in some kisses?” You responded and Yunho shut his eyes as if in pain, shaking his head.��

“If you tease me like that, I don't think I’ll be able to hold back. I am very sensitive these days, Luna.”

“And where did you get the idea that I want you to hold back?” You pulled away to look him in the eyes. “I thought we both wanted each other.”

“Of course I want you,” Yunho’s brows furrowed in concentration as he cupped your face. “But… I want you to be comfortable first. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or… I don’t want you to think that I’m demanding something from you. I would never–”

“Jeong Yunho,” you cupped his face, caressing the curve of his cheeks and swiping the dark tendrils of his hair away from his forehead. You locked eyes with him, finding hesitation if the slight shake of his voice wasn’t already a sign. “I want this– I want you. Is that okay?”

“That’s okay,” he nodded slowly, visibly gulping. “Do you know what you are getting into?”

“Yes,” you nodded, unable to resist pecking his lips. You lingered at his bottom lip purposely. “Do I have to say it out loud?”

“Are you sure?” Yunho asked yet again, inching closer until the tips of your noses brushed.

“Absolutely,” you whispered, “I– I want you. I want you so bad that it’s killing me–”

Yunho did not need to hear another word. He let his hand crane your neck as his lips met yours in a kiss like none other, deep and demanding in every sense now that there were no boundaries. You sighed in relief, kissing him back and sucking at his lower lip, gladly opening your mouth for him when he swiped his tongue across your lips.

Yunho slid his tongue inside your mouth, switching between licks and kisses and you found yourself letting loose with every little groan that you earned, getting more comfortable with each kiss to your lips or on your face, your body moving in tandem with his hands that traced your curves. Before you knew it, you were straddling him, your skirt riding up and Yunho’s hands found purchase on the bare skin of your thighs that your stockings didn’t cover, causing you to break apart and look at each other in surprise.

“Is this okay?” Yunho asked, hands unmoving. “Use your words, love.”

“More than okay,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. “You can touch me. However you want.”

Yunho nodded, joining your foreheads and matching the pacing of your breaths, his thumb starting to trace your bare skin. You shifted in his lap, feeling the telltale signs of a bulge and met his eyes, exchanging a kiss to assure him that you were okay before rolling your hips on his bulge, making him throw his head back and laugh in disbelief.

“You like that?” You asked, making the same movement again and he looked at you challengingly, daring you to do that again.

That did nothing to stop you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“Whatever,” you shut him up with another needy kiss and this time, Yunho let his hands roam over your upper body, both of you making quick work of unbuttoning each other’s shirts. You made him take his white dress shirt off completely, running your hands against his toned muscles while he traced his fingers against the outline of your black bra, looking almost entranced, his chest rising up and down in deep breaths.

Before you could make a move, Yunho was bringing you closer, kissing you once before he let his lips trail along your jaw and down your neck, breathing in the scent of you. You squealed in surprise when he picked you up effortlessly as he muttered, “Fuck this. I’m taking this to bed.”

You wrapped your legs around him and between fits of laughter and some teasing jabs, he reached his room and gently laid you on his bed after taking off your shirt and throwing it to the side. While he stared at the sight of you in his bed, imprinting it in his mind, you took a quick look around.

“Nice room,” you commented. It was quite simple with monochrome decorations. 

“That’s all you can think of right now?” Yunho pressed his hand in the middle of your chest, feeling your heartbeat and smirking in satisfaction. 

He had his answer. He pulled you up and removed your bra in a matter of seconds, swallowing any other comment with a heated kiss and soon, you lost yourself in how his lips felt against your own. On how his lips felt as they left a searing trail down your neck, making your back arch when he started fondling your breasts and sucking on them, alternating between kisses and littering your skin with a reminder of what you were doing tonight. 

You curled his hair between your fingers and when he paused near your belly, you pushed him downwards– a sign that it was okay. He looked at you for confirmation and when you nodded, he took off your skirt, leaving you in a soaking wet underwear.

Yunho continued to trail kisses down your thighs, pulling the stockings down, and something inside him broke when he traced his thumb on the wet patch on your underwear.

“Someone’s been enjoying this,” he commented, locking eyes with you. His gaze was dark and you could tell that he was doing his best to take this slow.

“Clearly,” you scoffed, knowing fully well how hard he was as well.

“Tell me, love. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight.”

You took a deep breath at his commanding tone, feeling a fresh wave of arousal course through you as his breath caressed your thighs. “Touch me, Yunho.”

“How?” 

You looked at the mafia consigliere, almost in disbelief. Did he want you to say that out loud too? 

Oh, but what a sight he was, looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“However would you prefer… Lieutenant Jeong?”

The last thing you saw was Yunho’s smirk before he looked down, his hair hiding his face as he pulled your panties down in a swift motion and you barely had time to shrug them off before he spread your legs apart, cocking his head in satisfaction at the sight of you before attaching his mouth to your core.

The moan that his action produced out of you came from somewhere so deep within you, quickly masked by another as he continued to suck on your aching clit, providing you with both relief and edging you to no end. You dug your fingers in the sheets, in his hair, anywhere as he continued with his ministrations, licking a stripe up your wet folds and teasing with his finger before crawling up and meeting your lips in a kiss, making you get lost in how you tasted on his tongue. If that wasn’t enough, he inserted his finger inside you, making you squirm in pleasure. 

He watched you intently as he pumped his finger inside and out, exploring your cavity and muttering praises. 

“Yunho– I don’t think I can last very long, fuck–”

“That’s okay,” he caressed your head with his free hand, inserting another finger inside you and holding you in place as you squirmed with need. “I need to hear your pretty little sounds some more– don’t be shy. You’re doing so well for me.”

As your breath started quickening, a telltale sign of an approaching orgasm, Yunho started to rub your clit in circles and pump his fingers inside at a rapidly growing pace, and perhaps the last straw was the way he kissed the top of your stomach because you came crashing down, your moans filling the room. All the while, Yunho muttered praises about how good you were, how you did so well for him, how pretty your moans sounded to him, and how he wanted this so bad too.

He got up to grab a towel from the stand and wiped his fingers before he got back on his position on top of you, kissing you deeply as if he had nowhere else to be, the movement of his lips leisurely but full of desperation. You traced your hands down on his abdomen and he broke apart to look you in the eyes and make sure you were okay once again.

“I want you,” you told him and he exhaled as if still in disbelief. “Please. Don’t make me beg.”

Yunho bit his lips before unbuckling his pants and taking them off, leaving himself in just his boxers that struggled to hold the sheer size of him. Your lips parted in surprise at the sight of him– you were aware that the man was big but this? Your mouth felt dry yet your core throbbed, knowing what it wanted. 

As Yunho took off his boxers, you sucked your breath when his cock sprang free, riding upwards and painfully hard. You met his gaze, sharing a small laugh before he moved to take something out of his pocket–

“Of course,” you shook your head at the packet of condom. “Always keeping it on you, eh?”

“Just in case,” he teased. “But really. My intentions tonight were only to feed you and take care of you.”

“Squeeze in some kisses,” you quoted him, reminding him of what he said earlier. “And… some orgasms?”

“Never said that, but I’m not complaining. Are you?” He raised a brow and you told him to shut the fuck up and get started. That had him snickering and after he finished wearing the condom, he slid between your legs, letting his hard length slide against your wet folds as he peppered kisses all over your face. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body aching with need all over when he started to suck on your neck. While he kissed you, he started to slide his length inside you and when you winced painfully, he stopped right away.

“It’s just been a while,” you assured him. “Be gentle.”

“Of course,” he nodded, understanding and caressing your head, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Just relax, okay? Breathe.”

You obeyed, following his movements. He caressed your thighs, easing the tension out of them and when you fully relaxed, you finally realised how much you had stiffened. He pushed a bit more inside, this time caressing your abdomen and easing the tension from there.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, continuing to rub your thighs, switching to your abdomen every once in a while. “Deep breaths. Just let go, and if you want to stop, let me know, okay?.”

“Yessir,” you managed, relaxing some more.

“You’re safe with me, okay?” He kissed your head again. “I would never hurt you. Let me know if it’s too much.”

Somehow, those words were what made the remaining tension in your body snap and Yunho found himself sliding in easier, though he made sure to monitor your reactions, slowing himself considerably. Once he was fully sheathed inside, he cursed out loud.

“How does it feel?” He asked, unmoving. “Fuck, you’re so tight, love.”

“So full,” you breathed shakily simply because you were finally starting to feel the arousal come back with full force. “Move, please.”

Yunho nodded, sharing open mouthed kisses with you as he started moving rhythmically in and out of you. His movements remained gentle until you felt comfortable enough to take control, wrapping your legs around him once again. That was when he started to pump inside you harder, your kisses growing sloppier and moans intermingling with your breaths. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, holding your face as he pumped inside you harder, the interval between your breaths growing shorter. “Wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “So long. I– I needed you. So long now,” you managed to say.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said, resting his lips against your cheek. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am I,” you breathed, “you’re doing so well.”

“Fuck,” Yunho latched his lips on the crook of your neck as he pumped harder. “Cum for me, darling. Cum all over my cock.”

You nodded, moments away from a shattering orgasm which you achieved exactly when Yunho put some pressure on your clit with his thumb, your loud gasp echoing off the walls, the dim lights of the lamps filling your vision as your eyes widened and you came with a force that made you wonder if you would even be able to stand up again. 

Yunho, however, was not done. He kept pumping you through your orgasm, his own breath shaky and with his hands holding your hips and a few harsh thrusts, he groaned deeply as he came, riding out his high and dropping on top of you, peppering kisses on your neck as if thanking you for the ride. 

It took you both a few moments to recover before he lifted himself up, making sure you were okay. You nodded and he caressed your face lovingly.

“I know people say that you shouldn’t say these words with your dick inside someone,” Yunho laughed. “But lord help me, Luna. I love you so much.”

You laughed at his admission, kissing his cheek. “I think I love you too, Yunho. Very, very much.”

Yunho grinned, sliding out of you and quickly discarding his condom before bringing some towels to clean you up. You let him take care of you, watching him with a smile.

“Or maybe it was the sex,” you teased, poking his thigh with your toes.

“Hey,” Yunho almost whined, pulling you by your legs and making you laugh out loud in surprise. Yunho attacked you with kisses all over your face until you admitted that it was not (just) the sex but also actual feelings. 

You really did love him. You told him that he was blind if he didn’t see that in your actions already.

So he picked you up and took you inside the shower. You let the big, scary army man bow down on his knees as he cleaned you up and kissed your skin. You let the gangster wash your body, holding you as if you were fragile. You let the consigliere hold you close, wrapping you both in one big towel as you struggled to make your way out, teeth chattering with cold as you put on whatever you found and got inside the covers, quickly.

You let the man– your friend and your partner– hold you protectively as you both fell asleep in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

next chapter

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[sillysiluriforme]

And the holders, oh god how the holders would view it all.

Nino wouldn't really understand all the reasons why, but he'd know (or learn painfully) that opportunities to DJ are down, that clubs are closing (who would party in such times?) and that people are struggling. Wayzz wouldn't help much, just urging Nino to help and protect whoever he can.

Marinette and Alya would know more due to family businesses, but mostly through belts being tightened, tight eyes and forced smiles as another shipment is delayed, as an order has to be rejected or reduced, as people walk out unable to buy fresh food (or with food in hand, but the bakery that much closer to bankruptcy). Parents too kind to show the whole story, but ears near stairwells and hushed arguments get the message across. Orders are down, purchases fewer yet the shelves are still emptier than Before. They could sell the business, but a whole lifetime down the drain? Starting anew somewhere else, rebuilding from scratch? Besides, no one is buying, and there's no where to go. Perhaps a check comes from the french government, or a tax writeoff, but it's not enough. It's never enough. Trixx would know little, maybe having a holder own an entertainment business or two, but never having paid attention. Tikki may understand, but catching hawkmoth is more important, and would fix everything, right? Right? (Ladybug must carry the weight of the world, but the weight of one city could break this one) But Adrien. Adrien would know. His father wants to keep the business alive, and can do so because his designs can be made elsewhere. Shipped to Paris and photo'd on Adrien. Paris may have been a hub but it's just one in his Empire. He wouldn't hold back either. Anyone unnecessary- cut. Jobs are few but talent is plentiful. Everyone else in fashion is leaving, but no one in paris can follow. Quality can be dropped in Paris - what else can you buy? Pay drops significantly- if fashion is your passion, where else could you work? And Gabriel would tell Adrien everything. He'd expect Adrien to understand it all, to stare the horror down and keep an iron spine. Preferably with a smile on his face, but that softness came from his mother after all. There's opportunity in crisis, and a struggling man can be made to work harder for less. The city may be dying, but there's life to leech yet. And Plagg and the lamb would know. They'd understand the full weight of Paris's situation. Plagg knows that unless hawkmoth is stopped, Paris will die. He can feel the decay, the death, the slowly creeping end. It's his domain after all. He'd lie to Adrien, to provide some comfort, but they both would know the truth, and it's better that Adrien trust Plagg fully than to trade that trust for a brief hint of warmth. The lamb does not know the ways of man. He does not care about imports and exports or any of that. He does know the ways of gods. The cost of their games. The price that must be paid. He knows Sacrifice. And what is the worth of one city, compared to the world? (I love this AU)

[sinister cackling]

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Four: Before the Storm

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello everyone! How are we doing after the last chapter? I went on a vacay and enjoyed some time with my family and dog, but now we're back to business. I wanted to say that I'm not a literary genius. Later in this chapter Helaena says some lines from a piece of work by Hélène Cixous called Love of the Wolf. I'm not taking credit for her work by any means, but I couldn't help myself not to add it. It was just too perfect. Well, anyways, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: mentions of childhood SA and trauma related to it, sexism, bullying.

Birdsong accompanied you in your daily lessons with Septa Marlow, her parchment-thin flesh wrapped over her shaking bones as she pointed to the large map of what you assumed was Westeros. It wasn’t that you couldn’t identify the outline of your own country. You didn’t care. The tiny sparrow that decided to make its nest on the branch of an oak tree outside the tutor room window was far more interesting.

You could hear the sounds of swords clashing outside over the creature’s call, an added instrument into the melody of the Red Keep. There was no doubt your brothers and uncles were practicing their swordplay, Ser Criston teaching the pairs of children. How you longed to be out there with them, with your family, with your twin, learning of things much more exciting than what region of the country produced the most red wine.

You only wanted to see them and to be entertained. It wasn’t that you wanted to learn the sword, though you wouldn’t say no should someone ask.

But this resulted from the actions from the previous day when you disobeyed the Dragonkeeper’s commands. It surprised you when your mother failed to mention how your brothers and Aegon gave Aemond a pig, but you weren’t planning to go out of your way to tell on yourself and receive any more repercussions. You were already confined to the castle walls and forbidden from seeing your dragon for the next sennight. You couldn’t imagine what your mother would have done in response if she knew.

“Princess, pay attention,” the old crone’s wavering voice commanded, causing you to jolt.

You attempted to follow her instructions, rattling off the names of Houses and their most profitable exports, but metal clanging stole you from your duties once more. Why couldn’t you be with your brothers and uncles? You understood that today’s extra lessons were a punishment, but why couldn’t you join them? You and Jace were the same age, though you were a few moments older, and Luke was younger.

You could comprehend the importance of learning such knowledge, but your brothers were able to understand this and swordsmanship. Why could you not? Seeing as your mother had not learned it, you did not believe it was a skill you needed. This was the only thing that separated you from Jace, and you hated it.

Suddenly, everything went silent. The birds, the clang of steel, your mind halted into a noiseless silence, leaving the only sound of Septa Marlow’s droning, shaky voice. Screams you knew belonged to Aegon and the shrieks of your younger brother, Jace, briefly sounded, causing your feet to twitch in the direction of the sound. You knew your brother. That was not a noise of happiness but one of determination and fear, but once again, it plummeted into silence.

Then, it erupted. Shouts and thick, repeated thumps of what could only be skin on skin replaced the dull thudding of swords, only this time, it was of grown men.

Disregarding your Septa’s scolds of disobedience, you stood, rushing from the creaky wooden desk and chair with a soft wince from the pain between your legs. You ran to the window, face pressed against the glass, to see the situation unfold.

Ser Harwin kneeled over a man in polished armor you couldn’t see as he drove punch after punch into the man’s face. It was a member of the Kingsguard, judging by his attire as onlookers gathered around the two of them, attempting to remove Harwin from his victim.

Why would Ser Harwin be attacking a Kingsguard?

You pressed your face closer to the glass, fogging it with your breath. Soon, your mother’s protector was thrown off, revealing a bloodied, smug Ser Criston Cole, a proud smirk on his tan face as he spat viscous scarlet liquid. Ser Harwin spewed words of anger you couldn’t hear as you observed with wide eyes from above.

“Princess!” Marlow shouted, stomping her slippered foot in exasperation. “Return to your seat at once.”

“Ser Harwin is attacking Ser Criston!” you countered with a whine as you disregarded her demands. Without thinking of the consequences, you ran for the exit only to be met with the face of your sworn shield, halting you from seeing the commotion.

You were stuck. These were the repercussions of your actions, and now you had to sit in dull solitude with a Septa so old that your mother had her as wild possibilities ran through your head as to why Ser Harwin Strong attacked Ser Criston Cole.

Finding where your uncle Aemond spent most of his time was effortless. He was unlike the rest of you, who loved to be outside in the dirt, running about the gardens as you and your brothers played any game you could think of. Aegon and the trio of you teased Aemond for the fact that he was different in this way, your eldest uncle impressing the idea that his brother’s likes of science, math, history, and philosophy were weird for a child. You also enjoyed subjects similar to your uncle’s, thirsting for knowledge of everything related to herbs, flowers, and other plants, but you never brought it up. Aegon would undoubtedly tease you for it if he knew.

Aemond’s interests weren’t typical, but you didn’t see it as something to look down on him for. But since Aegon did, you had no choice but to agree.

The library in the Red Keep was a lonely and shadowy place, rarely visited by anyone, not even the servants. The absence of lit candles or a crackling fire contributed to the eerie atmosphere, creating a sensation of fear that seemed to grip your very core as you stepped inside, as though you were venturing into an endless void of darkness. Despite the unsettling ambiance, you summoned your bravery, clutching your cherished collection of fairy tales for comfort, and gained the strength to push open the library doors. The sound of metal clanging echoed in the silence.

Motes of dust swirled in the beams of light pouring through the windows as you combed through the towering wooden bookcases. Your search was targeted and honed on a particular individual who, besides Lord Lyonel Strong and the rest of the council members, was known to make regular visits to this room. It was just a matter of time before you laid eyes on him.

After the sixth tall hickory bookshelf, you found Aemond resting on a window seat filled with lush fabric cushions, the sunbeams casting him in a yellow glow. You took a step forward, hesitating as you thought about how your uncle would react to your goodwill gesture. Despite anticipating his initial skepticism and harsh words, you held onto hope that persistence and authenticity would eventually make him see you for who you are.

You wished for it to be true.

“Have you come to mock me again, niece?” Aemond asked, interrupting your indecision with his nose still in the pages.

You swallowed as your mouth became dry, stepping out to reveal yourself fully. “No, Aemond. I came to read,” you replied, taking a gasp of air and summoning courage, “with you.”

Your uncle’s attempt to mask his surprise was unsuccessful as his eyes widened in astonishment. He quickly glanced at you and returned to his book, hoping to conceal his reaction.

His usual scowl deepened, pulling down at his freckled cheeks as he interrogated. “Why?”

A lopsided grin scrunched your plump cheeks upwards to crinkle your eyes as you shrugged. “Because I want to.”

Aemond flipped onto the next page with a skeptical face, yet his violet orbs never moved from the same spot. You had his attention. Hiding a victorious grin, you stepped towards him before he could protest, plopping onto the pillows beside Aemond. He quickly recoiled in exaggerated disgust, as if you were no more than an annoying fly that landed on his arm as he slammed the tome shut and briskly left.

This was an expected outcome, and you hurriedly chased after him, your shorter legs struggling to keep up with your uncle’s pace as he fled around a corner from your attempted act of bonding. You understood this was not a simple task and already built the mental stamina to outlast Aemond’s antics as he jumped down the stone steps of the Keep two at a time.

Eventually, he managed to escape you, his notable mane of blonde hair disappearing before a crowd of courtiers in the courtyard.

You huffed a sigh as you observed the sea of people, sweat stinging your privy part, but you ignored it, standing on the tips of your toes to peer over the wall of the pale redstone landing above the yard.

Suddenly, you spotted him at the far end as he caught your gaze, violet eyes widening in horror as if he saw one of the monsters from your stories. He turned away. His confident walk soon turned to a worried jog as you ran as fast as your limbs could carry you, shoving your way through the throng of people. You were used to playing chase with your brothers. Doing it with your uncle was the same, if not more manageable, with the help of his iconic hair and green garbs.

As you reached the area where you spotted your uncle, he was nowhere to be found, and you turned, looking across the vast meadow of the court that ebbed and flowed like the swaying of a wheat field, focused on their afternoon destinations. None of them paid any attention to the two dragon royals, both more than a head shorter and too self-absorbed to care.

With a sharp yelp, you fell to the ground, soiling your gown and dropping your book on the packed dirt as you caught yourself with your palms. They ached at the impact, tiny rocks embedding into your soft skin as you swiftly turned to the person who shoved you and saw no other than your uncle Aemond staring over you with rose-dusted cheeks. His arms securely bound his book to his chest as he looked down upon you with his nose, catching his breath and taking three paces back before you righted yourself.

“Why are you following me?” your uncle shouted down at you as he attempted to make his voice sound like a grown man.

You huffed as you swiped the dirt from your turquoise dress, gritting your teeth to control your frustration. This was one of your nice ones! Of course, Aemond would ruin it. Your mother would surely scold you when she found out.

“I told you I only wanted to read!” you screeched with a stomp of your foot as your arms flew into the air, flailing wildly. “And now you’ve ruined my favorite collection! The spine is loose and the pages are dirty!”

Aemond said nothing as you studied the now-tattered book before you. Every night, Ser Harwin or your father read a short story from this as you sat atop their laps, drifting off into a restful sleep filled with dreams of nymphs playing in a forest creek. Your book, too, was ruined—another consequence of wanting to be kind to your uncle.

“What’s it about?” he suddenly asked, prompting your watery eyes to move to him. The blush that covered Aemond’s face deepened, now traveling to his ears and throat as he dug his nails into the leatherback of his tome. He looked almost pained to inquire about anything that had to do with you.

Your first instinct was to bite with sharpened fangs of hurt, but you stopped, remembering your goal as you batted your watery lashes in disregard. “It was a volume of different stories,” you sighed with disappointment, afraid that if you showed any other emotions, you would revert to your old ways.

“I see.”

You stared at Aemond expectantly, waiting longer than what was proper for him to continue any sentence or explanation. Still, he did not, only observing you with a calculating expression. The low murmur of bustling court members filled the long silence, the occasional gust of wind and rattling metal low in the background. When your uncle refused to proceed with the conversation, you opened your mouth to do it for him, but much to your chagrin, he turned away before you could, not speaking a word as he kicked pebbles with his boots.

You scoffed in response, stunned and appalled by his actions. For a brief moment, one that didn’t last longer than a blink, Aemond showed kindness to you. You felt like an idiot for believing in that small part that thought last night changed your standing with Aemond, yet a ray of hope still lingered in your chest like the flame of a burnt wick on a dwindling candle.

You sighed in frustration as you looked over the worn and tattered pages of the stories. The determination you once had dwindled, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you deserved this. Memories of mocking Aemond’s odd behavior of the pig and making fun of him with your brothers and Aegon weighed heavily on you, intensifying the shame. A soft sigh of defeat escaped your lips as you reflected on your actions.

Ser Harwin was leaving you. After his fight with Ser Criston in the training yard, he was stripped of his title as Commander of the City Watch and was sent back to Harrenhal the next day. You were devastated, fat tears running down your hot cheeks as he said farewell to you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey before sleep.

Harwin had been with you since before you were born. He was there to help sort out quarrels between you and your brothers whenever one stole toys and refused to share. Harwin accompanied you to your lessons when your brothers were learning the art of swords or hunting. He taught you how to ride a horse when your father was out at sea with your grandfather Corlys and dried your tears whenever Aegon and Aemond were harsh. Ser Harwin was family as far as you were concerned, and returning to the Riverlands was akin to losing a member because Ser Criston claimed he cared too much about you and your brothers only to be a sworn protector.

You weren’t blind to the rumors surrounding your parentage and the resemblance to the Commander of the City Watch. It was all your uncles could do not to bring it up each moment they laid their Valyrian eyes on you. The word bastard haunted the now four of you wherever you went, a cloak of shame that threatened to devour your girlish body whole.

Jace often raised concerns about who your birth father was, but he was never brave enough to ask your mother about it. It was an open question of uncertainty that never seemed to find the correct answer, yet, no matter what, you knew that even if you were not of Laenor Velaryon’s blood, they could never deny that you were your mother’s. You were a Targaryen, just like your aunt and uncles, and that was something that could never change.

“Be good to your mother. I’ll visit when I can,” Ser Harwin said tenderly, kneeling before you, Jace, and Luke as your mother cradled Joffrey. He stood with a grunt as he observed the four of you, a misty look in his eyes that you could mistake for tears. “But that may be some time.”

Sobs stained the white cotton sleeves of your nightgown gray, sniffling as you wiped away more snot and salty water. You would miss Ser Harwin terribly, and he knew that, but that did not make this any less painful as you clung to Jace’s side and he, your mother.

“I will return. I promise,” Harwin expressed with a gravelly voice as he tenderly brushed loose strands of your hair that hid your wet eyes. You listened to the same voice as you sat on his lap, resting your head upon his chest as he read you and your brother’s fairy tales before bed.

Harwin would tell no more stories in that deep, rumbling tone that soothed your soul beyond measure, and you felt your heart crack more at the thought.

Harwin moved to say his final farewell to Joffrey and your mother, kissing the babe’s forehead as you buried your face in your brother’s neck. “You will be a stranger when we meet again,” he said to the bundle of fabric that cooed in your mother’s arms.

And that was true, not just for Joffrey, but for all of you.

Ser Harwin bid goodbye to your mother with a simple “princess” as they shared a long, meaningful glance with layers of emotion and scores of history behind them. He said no more and gathered his sword, swinging it over his shoulder as you released a cry, running to the comforting embrace of your mother’s bed. You could no longer watch Harwin as he left your life, a new wave of sobs taking over as you shoved your face into her feather pillows. It smelled of her, home, and happiness—fresh lavender and sage on expensive cotton sheets.

Despite your mother’s reassurance that you would see Ser Harwin again someday, you could not help but feel like this was a death sentence. As if you stood in front of his coffin and buried him beneath the dirt and worms yourself. He would no longer be the sworn shield he was when he left at this very moment, as you heard the sound of hurried footfalls exiting the room.

Luke followed you to the wide bed, tucking himself into your side and resting his temple on your chest as you both cried in an agonizing yet loving embrace. You could hear Jace talking to your mother outside the doorway, little Joffrey babbling as she softly bounced him in her arms. Whether it was to comfort your babe brother or her, you did not know.

“Is Harwin Strong my father? Am I a bastard?” you heard Jace ask. His fierce and unwavering inquiry only made you sadder. On instinct, you covered Luke’s ears as he hiccuped into your chest. He did not need to have doubt burrow into his mind at such a young age.

Your mother was silent. The only sounds coming were from you, the soft crackles of the fire in the hearth, and your little brother’s heaving breaths as you struggled to cope with the loss.

“You are a Targaryen. That is all that matters,” she finally answered, tone strong. Her words were rehearsed and practiced, and they did not quell the thirst for the truth in either you or Jace.

Your barely younger brother returned to the room. His thin lips downturned, and his head hung low as he sat on one of the plush settees littering the area. You could tell he was unsatisfied with your mother’s response, as were you, but he understood he would get the same reply should he push the matter. Your mother followed in soon after, observing the three of you with tired yet loving eyes.

The same question was on your lips, threatening to break free at any moment, lilac orbs landing on your brown ones as she stared at you with your newest brother still in her arms. She was not inclined to answer, and yet you knew. It was written plainly in the fine lines of her face, the slope of her nose, and how tears lined her lashes as your mother inhaled a fierce, shuddering breath. Much like her, you refused to say the words aloud, electing to bask in the grief-stricken sadness that enveloped your family.

The hour of the owl was upon you before you finally went to your chambers, unable to find rest in your kin’s arms. Your brothers choose to stay with your mother inside hers as their tiny bodies pressed against each other after the tears have long dried.

The halls and corridors of the Red Keep were noiseless as you trekked through them with keen eyes. The portraits of your ancestors you passed daily seemed to follow you with their purple gazes, their accusing stares boring shame into your soul and setting your hair alight.

Alicent’s warning rang through your head as the squeak of a rat sounded, her rich voice echoing inside until it was all you could hear. The end could not come fast enough as you shut the large wooden doors to your, Jace’s, and Luke’s shared quarters, swiftly hiding under your blue bed sheets, heart hammering in your chest.

Your bed was cold and safe, and your pulse calmed steadily. Now, more than ever, the uncertainty behind your birth was thrust before you.

It was always easier to deny the fact that you were most likely a bastard than it was to accept it. Those who accused you did not understand that they weren’t only saying your blood was not Laenor Velaryon but that you and your brothers were a sin, your very existence an insult to House Velaryon, the king, and to all those who dutifully suffered unkind marriages.

Bastards were not heirs. They were creations purely out of selfish lust and desire.

It called into question all four of your legitimacy of inheritance. None of you had claims to the thrones or titles you were set to receive upon the death of your parents, and no prospects would want to wed a bastard should you accept it.

You understood why your mother did not admit the words allowed in the confidence of the now four of you. If you spoke them into existence, it would only make them real. It left you no choice but to deny, deny, deny until your tongue withered and lips fell off. Living a life of refusal of admittance would be difficult. Still, it was the only way to ensure you and your brother’s places would be secured until the Stranger decided to take another companion.

The empty well of tears soon filled once more as you sighed deeply in surrender to the turbulent path ahead, tucking your hand underneath your pillow for the relief of rest, but unfortunately, it did not find you.

Your vanity mirror shined like a beacon in the darkness, reminding you of that night. You still needed to move it back to its original place and give your maids the excuse that you wanted to see what it would look like there. It was a lie.

The idea that Aegon knew of a passage into your rooms haunted you when you set foot into the space. You were scared, anxious, no… terrified that your eldest uncle would waltz into your bed chamber at any moment. The unknown was what frightened you—of what he would do. The notion that he could enter pushed you to rise from bed, planting the soles of your feet onto a maroon Myrish rug as you grabbed the legs of the vanity and pulled it back into place. You would have to think of another lie to tell your maids.

“Why is Uncle Aemond unkind to us?” a timid voice rang out into the once private space.

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned to see Luke with a wooden toy dragon curled into his tiny fist. It looked as if he had just awoken from sleep minutes ago, which you assumed was the case judging by his messy hair and crusted eyes. As you caught your breath, clutching the skirt of your pale gray nightgown, you disregarded any questions about why he was here instead of your mother’s room.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be,” you answered as your racing heart calmed. “Why do you ask?”

“I saw him push you over in the courtyard,” he ardently explained, his dark brows rising against his pale skin. It reminded you of your father when he tried to speak earnestly with the three of you, yet Luke’s boyish voice had no similarities to his.

You sighed, recalling the now ruined book you hid in your trunk alongside your tattered dress. “He was angry.”

You did not want to tell Luke about Aemond’s rejection, as the embarrassment was still fresh. He would no doubt try to tell you how you were wrong for attempting to befriend him after the mean things he’d said to you all your life.

“He’s always angry, but we haven’t done anything,” Luke countered with a frown on his small lips, fiddling with his fingers at his sides.

You paused for a long moment, unsure of what to say. The three of you were not nearly as cruel to Aemond as Aegon was. Your mother raised you to be kind to your uncles and aunt no matter what they did to you, and while you were not perfect, any jokes or rude remarks were not made with the intent to hurt him. With a great sigh, you lead Luke in front of the gated fireplace, where a collection of your toys rests in the orange glow. He picked up a polished wooden horse, running his tiny thumbs over the varnish as you spoke.

“I think he believes we don’t belong here,” you said. The explanation was vague, and it irked you beyond measure. The truth of your words threatened to surface like an apple thrown into a barrel full of water.

“We live here. This is our family,” he replied in confusion, dark eyes so wide you could see the entire white. He wasn’t wrong, yet the truth of the matter clawed at your throat to become free.

“We don’t look like Targaryens. You must have noticed.” You could not stop the words from being said. You were such a good liar. Why was it impossible to lie about this?

“You mean our hair?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head, scratching his scalp in confusion with one of the wooden toys.

You didn’t want to tell him and put the burden of knowledge onto your younger brother that you and Jace were cursed with, but it was something you understood would follow the now four of you for the rest of your lives.

Luke was still younger than you, yet his simple statement of your hair tested your last bit of resolve. “Our hair, eyes, and everything!” you exclaimed exasperated.

“But I have a crooked little finger like Mama,” he reasoned with the raise of his hand, showing his small digit. You deflated, sighing a drawn-out breath to calm your temper as you picked up one of your rag dolls from the pile.

“A crooked little finger isn’t enough,” you decided to say as you stroked the button eyes on your toy. Why couldn’t he comprehend that no matter how many similarities you had to your mother, the fact of who your father was remained uncertain?

“Well, if we aren’t Targaryens, where did we come from?” The sap inside the fire popped, startling you and your brother as you stared into the flames.

You were Targaryens. That much was obvious. You cannot fake exiting your mother’s womb. It was the matter of your father that sparked rumors, but you did not want to give Luke any more thoughts over the subject, coming to accept that he was not old enough to understand what your uncle was being mean about.

“We were born here. Mama is our mother, but there’s something else and Aemond knows it,” you answered obscurely, clutching your dolly into your chest as the night air howled outside the glass windows.

It felt like the Keep was listening to your conversation, the walls groaning in response to your words. The very castle you lived in understood the truth, and the pressure of it weighed heavily on your soul. Just like the paintings of your ancestors, the Red Keep knew of your shame.

“I do not wish to be different,” Luke confessed with dejection, too sad for your liking, as he stopped playing with the toys.

You didn’t want to cause anyone’s sadness, let alone your brother’s, and you frowned, taking Luke’s hand in yours and scooting across the floor to hug his side.

You loved your family more than words could describe as you held your younger brother closer. Jace, Luke, and now Joffrey did not deserve the torment they would face for the rest of their lives at the hands of your uncles and the court. As the eldest, it was your responsibility to protect them from things your parents could not, to take care of them and dry their tears, not to burden your mother or father, but this was something you understood you could not fix, yet it did not deter you from trying.

“Nor do I,” you finally spoke, holding Luke close to your heart and kissing him on his cherubic cheek. “So let us be good children and please those who love us so they may forget what we lack. Come. It’s time for bed.” Your mother would say that as you took your brother by the hand and led him to your bed.

If you couldn’t change what people said, you could at least change the contents they discussed.

You would excel in your place as the unspoken heir and accept your duties no matter what with your shoulders back and your chin held high. You would learn the history of your ancestors, the politics of your country, and whatever else you believed was dutiful to prepare yourself for the responsibility you would inherit after your mother. Not feeling the same fear you did earlier, now with your younger brother at your side, you pulled the covers over both of you as Luke snuggled into your side’s comforting embrace.

Aemond felt he lacked something compared to his siblings, niece, and nephews. Some of him believed that if a dragon hatched from his egg, or he claimed a living one, things would be different from how they were now. He would not be the subject of people’s taunts nor feel the prominent sensation of inadequacy that weighed on his soul, but it seemed as if Aemond was destined to suffer within the shadows of his family’s success no matter how hard he tried to step out of it.

His older brother possessed the skills of conversation and humor he didn’t have and constantly teased him for it, though Aegon was not without faults. His brother would tell him to stop being a “twat,” to get his nose out of books, and that he was dull, sullen, and far too severe for his age.

Because of this, Aegon preferred to spend time with Jace, Luke, and his niece, but it didn’t help that they were much easier company. His half-sister’s children seemed to have a bond closer than his siblings, each with dragons, which was the one thing he didn’t possess. Aemond would never admit he was jealous of his niece and nephews, for that would mean that he saw them as equals of comparison, which was something they weren’t. They were beings of lesser standing, though they thought themselves on par, as they had been raised with the same extravagance he was.

Aemond knew you would be looking for him the next day as he watched you skip to the library the following morning, your smile so bright on your face that it made him sick. Seeing how the joy fell from your face when you saw he was not there gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.

Did you think him stupid?

He could see the telltale signs of tears welling in your eyes as you realized your hidden plans of ridicule were foiled: the scrunch of your dark brows, rapid blinking to get the droplets at bay, and then the pursing of your lips. This time, you held firm and refused to let your emotions guide you. At least, that was what Aemond believed as he observed you exiting the library deep in thought.

He knew you would not give up so easily, and instead of taking solace in his usual places of inhabitant and risking you finding him, he chose to watch you. You could not see him if he was three steps ahead. Aemond was glad that you weren’t nearly as bright as you believed, and as long as he stayed out of sight, he could be sure you wouldn’t bother him. The irony of the situation that he would now be following you to avoid you didn’t matter, and he certainly wasn’t concerned about your well-being after what Aegon did, either.

You were as foreign to one another as Old Valyria; there was no reason for him to care. Aemond would do this every day for the rest of his life if it meant he would never have to spend a moment with you again.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Helaena’s voice drifted through the halls like summer wind through tree leaves, startling Aemond as he watched his niece’s dark head disappear around a corner. Her fair blonde locks, a copy of her brother’s, were braided around the crown of her head, a tiny metal cage in her lithe fingers, and a curious expression on her visage directed towards him.

“You’re avoiding her,” Helaena declared with a resolute lilt to her tone, taking the insect out of its confines. “After what has been stolen.”

Aemond stared at his sister with perplexed eyes, quickly looking to ensure you had not heard the conversation and came to investigate.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond said distractedly, wringing his hands at the pit of unease in his stomach.

There was no possibility that she knew what occurred during the night. Aegon would never willingly admit something like this, and you would undoubtedly keep what happened a secret, seeing as you refused to tell your mother in fear of punishment.

Helaena was silent as she observed the olive-and-brown grasshopper in her palm, petting it with her index finger before it tried to jump away. She held the open metal cage in the bug’s intended direction, and it landed inside, swiftly flicking the door shut before it could attempt to escape again.

“Tis our fate, I think, to crave what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away,” Helaena declared with the furrow of her blonde eyebrows, the insect thumping against the metal bars as she looked at her younger brother.

Her words were cryptic, and Aemond felt a bead of sweat run down his spine as he observed his older sister. He didn’t understand what she meant. She intensely focused on it, so he assumed it was about the grasshopper. Aemond wordlessly shrugged, disregarding his older sister’s vague observation as he peered anxiously at where he last spotted you.

“Tis not difficult for the ewe to love the lamb. But for the wolf?” Helaena began again, standing beside her brother with a soft swish of her satin skirt. “The wolf’s love for the lamb is such a renunciation, it’s the wolf’s sacrifice—it’s a love that could never be requited. This wolf that sacrifices its very definition for the lamb, this wolf that doesn’t eat the lamb, is it a wolf? Is it still a wolf?”

Aemond paid no attention to her now as Helaena spouted what he felt was nonsense and decided to push forward in search of you, ensuring with noiseless strides you would not see him once he got close.

Helaena was someone he felt was misunderstood like him, but now was not the time to go on with poetry and riddles.

“But sometimes it’s the wolf that falls into the jaws of the lamb. Out of love, the wolf falls backward into the circle of fire. It goes around fast. It so happens that the lamb catches the wolf,” Helaena continued, her voice soft like morning spring rain as she followed her vexed younger brother. She was inside her world, purposely or ignorant of her brother’s frustration.

“There is no greater love than the love the wolf feels for the lamb it doesn’t eat.”

Aemond groaned, losing his temper, which he rarely did in the presence of his sister. His niece had irked him, causing his heartbeat to quicken and his lungs pant.

“Helaena, will you please stop with this nonsense? I have important matters to tend to,” Aemond barked hushedly as a servant passed by, blocking the sun from the windows.

Any other day, he would allow his sister to speak for however long and about whatever she wanted, but this was not one of those times. You could happen upon him at any moment, and the prince did not want to risk the chance of a repeat encounter.

Helaena refused to listen to him as her musings became louder and sharper as if she was trying to convey a point without the proper words, no doubt alerting you and everyone else in the Keep to where he was. Aemond felt the blanket of defeat shroud his figure as the sound of light hurried footfalls sounded in the hall.

“The lamb loves its wolf. The wolf turns white and starts quivering out of love for the lamb. The lamb loves the wolf’s fragility, and the wolf loves the frail one’s force. The wolf is now the lamb’s lamb and the lamb has tamed the wolf,” his sister concluded, violet-eyed with an understanding she attempted to impart onto Aemond with the harsh squeeze of her digits on his arm.

He gasped, his brows arched in pain from Helaena’s sharp nails piercing through his tunic, and tried to wretch his arm free with a panicked grunt, but to no avail. Before he could blink, your pitched voice pierced Aemond’s ears, and he felt like they would burst.

“Uncle! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The loose strands of your neatly styled hair bounced with every step as you approached Aemond with a broad grin on your lips. “I was hoping we could read today. I chose a book I think you would like. I know you don’t enjoy fairytales.”

“Love blackens the lamb, leaving fire and blood to light their way,” Helaena whispered, her violet gaze directed towards the tall window as a bird flew past. She released Aemond’s arm as if she suddenly realized she still had it. She looked back to her grasshopper, wordlessly displaying it for you to see.

“Oh, is that a new one Helaena?” you asked with a bright curiosity in your tone. Aemond didn’t believe you truly cared about his sister and her bugs, curling his lip in disgust at what he thought were false niceties. “Where did you find it? We’ll have to go there sometime to see if there are more!”

You didn’t care about Helaena and her hobbies. You were more like Aegon and made fun of her for the bugs she collected. At least, that was what he had in his mind. Aemond felt conflicted as he watched his sister nod in agreement, asking when your punishment was over so you could spend time together again.

When he noticed Helaena’s faint smile as she left, grasshopper in tow, a warmth blossomed inside his heart. His sister only showed happiness when she truly felt it, not to be polite like most, and it caused Aemond to turn to you, his face pale. You were his annoying, spoiled, bastard niece who got anything she wanted, so why were you not acting like it?

It felt like butterflies were inside your stomach as you took another step toward Aemond, a book clutched to your chest like before. Aemond watched as his sister left the two of you alone without a word, like she was in a world of her own. He wanted to reach out to her to be not alone with his dreadful niece, but Helaena was gone as quickly as she emerged, leaving her younger brother with the girl he hated most in the world.

“I have a book I think we both would like today, uncle. It’s one about the warrior Queen Nymeria and her journey to Dorne,” you announced, a slight sway in your step as you tried to quell your anxiety.

Aemond huffed as he looked for a way out of this and sighed in defeat when he found none, clenching his thumbs inside his palms to control the ire that swelled in response. Your uncle didn’t want your pity or your friendship. He knew you were only spending time with him since you didn’t wish to Aegon and could not be with your brothers because they were in their lessons. You would have never done this if his eldest brother could control his impulses. It made him feel like a second choice, another painful reminder that he was always second to his kin, yet not good enough to be a spare.

Walking away in surrender, he led you back to the library, where no one would see the pair of you, and the sun provided the only light. He knew Aegon would tease him beyond what he could take if he saw you together, and after that night, Aemond did not want to see him anyway.

You set the book of Queen Nymeria’s adventures on a dusty wooden table and giggled as you fanned the air. Aemond was not amused, sulking in the chair beside you as he opened the leather back of the book. You sat next to him, shoulders touching, ignoring his reaction. He mockingly covered his mouth as if he smelled something terrible when he inhaled the citrus scent on your skin. This made you feel a bit upset, but you tried to hide it by tugging at your dark hair and avoiding his gaze.

You read the first page together silently. It stated how the queen looked, how beautiful she was with long, flowing, swarthy hair cascading down her waist with sturdy hips, her skin a smooth, youthful complexion with brown eyes to match. Yet still, she was a fierce warrior with an indomitable spirit who led her men into battle and took no cowards. You imagined you would be like her when you grew up, a beautiful warrior queen who ruled her kingdom with an unwavering though gentle and cunning fist, who people loved and respected her rule.

“Can I turn it?” Aemond asked dispassionately, cutting through the silence. You hadn’t realized you had been so lost in your daydreams that you had not retained a single word written on the page, but to not make your uncle perceive you lower than he already did, you nodded.

You leaned closer to the pages before you decorated them in elaborate colors of blue and red, studying the new page and picture. Aemond glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, unnoticed by you as you were lost in the vast expanse of your mind, your cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different you were, apart from the apparent fact of age and sex. His eyelashes were almost white and translucent, while yours were black, long, surrounding dark eyes that glistened with natural wetness that threatened to suck him into their depths if he stared for too long. Aemond’s skin was pale and dusted with sun kisses, yet yours was plain, flushed, and full of life, your lips more defined and moist than his. You possessed a pug nose matching that of your brothers rather than his aquiline one, a softer, more plump face than his, as Aemond’s was more defined even for his age. His hair, the color of Targaryen’s, the white you didn’t have a hint of and mocked you for, was visible proof of who your father was.

Though Aemond immensely enjoyed pointing out the idea that you were a bastard, he reluctantly realized that you weren’t unattractive, at least by Westerosie standards.

“I will be like Nymeria when I am queen,” you announced to Aemond, breaking the silence. He gave you a sidelong glance and sighed. It wouldn’t hurt if there were some conversation between you. It didn’t seem like you would be mean to him, and he supposed you were indebted to him after all.

At your hopeful expression, your uncle didn’t have the heart to tell you that neither you nor your mother would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Women were not fit to rule and carry such a burden. They were too gentle of creatures to make the harsh decisions that ruling required.

“Are you certain you’ll be a good ruler? You can barely get your brothers to listen to you. What makes you think the Lords of the realm will?” Aemond questioned with a trace of bitterness you couldn’t understand the cause of.

Turning to him with a face painted with a serious expression, your brows scrunched together and lips tight in a severe line as you took his hand. “Just as Nymeria burned her ships to prevent any cowardly men from fleeing, I will burn all those who try to hurt my family and oppose my reign.”

You stated the words with such a decisive coldness that it caused Aemond to shiver. He was shocked and in awe at your declaration, stunned into silence filled with momentary admiration. Aemond never imagined that would come out of your mouth. He always pictured you as soft-hearted when it came to violence, having seen you cower when Aegon would hit your brothers too hard when training.

“What would you do if they didn’t allow your mother to be queen? You wouldn’t have the power to do that,” your uncle reasoned, giving you a devoted attention he never gave before. It made you pause.

“Perhaps I was a bit rash,” you reasoned with the gentle tug of your hair, letting go of Aemond’s hand in nervousness. He swiftly snatched it back before you could think, a surge of excitement rolling in the pit of your stomach with the action. “It wouldn’t only be me, though. I would have Jace, Luke, and Joffrey when he becomes a rider. We would help our mother if anyone tried to prevent her, and I would have my husband, too. He would be my Mors Martell and help me conquer all of Dorne!”

You looked at Aemond with uncertain eyes as your gaze flicked from him to the open book the two of you barely read.

“You mean Aegon. Someone with a dragon,” he countered snidely, turning his flushed cheeks away from you.

“No,” you snapped quicker than you could have imagined. “I don’t want Aegon to be my husband.”

Aemond needn’t ask why.

You hadn’t heard your eldest uncle’s name since that night, and hearing it made something within you break. You despised Aegon for his actions. Did he feel entitled to mistreat you because of the betrothal plan? It filled you with blackened fury. You took a quick breath to calm yourself and looked to Aemond, who appeared remorseful.

“You don’t need a dragon to be powerful,” you explained with a gentle tone, but Aemond only scoffed.

“That’s easy for you to say when you have one,” he bit, causing the tips of his ears to grow pink in anger.

You attempted to hide your huff of annoyance at his sulking but failed, rolling your dark eyes as you answered him honestly. “I do believe you’ll have a dragon one day. There are too many around for you not to. You just need to find the right one, but even if you don’t, there are other ways to have power. You could ride with me and Gaeli, too, if you like? If you never claimed one.”

It was an offering of peace, of goodwill, telling your uncle without the words that you were sorry for having played all the jokes you did on him for not having a mount. You wanted him to know he was welcomed into the world of dragons without one, that you would still see him as an equal, if not better than you in some aspects. He was already showing prospects of being a fine warrior.

“Really?” Aemond perked, violet eyes setting alight with happiness you had never seen him show. He felt childish, but he couldn't help it. You offered for him to ride a dragon!

You giggled, unable to hold your joy back as you bobbed eagerly. “Of course, Aemond! As soon as Gaelithox is large enough to ride you will be with me. We can learn together for when you finally mount one!”

It was the first time you saw your uncle smile with genuine, untainted mirth, displaying a set of dimples you didn’t know he had. The pair of you fell into a deep conversation long into the late evening, causing your mother to pace with nerves until you returned, discussing thoughts of the future, of what dragons Aemond could claim, and how, if he never bonded with one, you would make him feel as if he was a dragon rider like the rest of your family.

The following days, Aemond rose with the sun, a sensation he had never felt before in the pit of his stomach as his servant dressed him in traditional green garbs.

Excitement.

He was filled with eager anticipation for the days ahead now that he had something positive to look forward to. It was something only he had now. In a way, though Aemond would never admit it, for it was such a horrendous thought that brought him great shame, he was glad that Aegon raped his niece. If he hadn’t, Aemond would never have gained one of the two things Aegon had that he didn’t.

First, he took the companionship of the only person who steadfastly supported his old brother. Next, all Aemond had to do was acquire a dragon, and finally, he would be equal to Aegon, if not better.

As Aemond traveled the halls, understanding full well that he could read within the privacy of his chamber, he went to the library to read ever since he and his niece shared words of the future. He met you in the same place in the library after your lessons, whether to read, chat, or enjoy the peace of the other’s company.

Though Aemond was proud that he took something from Aegon, he was afraid that his brother would see you together one day, but Aegon never ventured into the noiselessness of the library. The eldest son had never been much of a student.

You typically sparked conversations, and Aemond would answer back in kind. It made him feel better about himself—more of a man to have someone solely seek his attention and knowledge in a way no one else had before. Aemond always ended the day with a pleasant flutter in his heart and tingling in his fingers for what tomorrow would bring.

One night, as Aemond lay fast asleep with visions of the sun blinding his eyes, green scales, and a head of dark hair that flew in the wind, he woke with a start to the sound of his chamber doors opening. He feared it was Aegon and his nephews who were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose within the lush emerald bedsheets, terrified, as the torchlight shone from the hallway, outlining the figure in the door frame. The person stepped forward with a loud creak of the metal hinges.

“Aemond?”

He heard the quiet mumble, the voice softer than that of the feather pillows he lay his head on at night. Aemond could barely see your silhouette in the darkness, squinting with sleep-clouded eyes to ensure it was you. He could hear your soft sniffles and quick breaths as concern hastened his heart.

“Can I sleep with you?”

You could hear your uncle shift on his bed, mind still reeling from being woken up from a deep slumber. The silence stretched long between you and Aemond, and you feared he might refuse your plea for comfort.

“What? Why?” he hissed with venom. There was no privacy from Aegon here. At any moment, his older brother could walk into his room and see you conversing. He didn’t need another excuse to be ridiculed. You had to leave now.

Your hiccups were loud at his rejection as you wiped at your tears, unable to form coherent sentences as sobs racked your lungs. “I…I had a dream. Ae-gon came… back. He hurt me again, and I… I couldn’t…” You cried, palms scratching at your scalp as you tried to speak.

“Go sleep with Jace,” he retorted, ready to return to bed. Spending time together privately was one thing, but this was invading his space, his place of solitude without siblings or nieces.

“I can’t! He and Luke have been sleeping with Mama since Ser Harwin left,” you babbled in despair, glancing over your shoulder as if the monster called Aegon would emerge from the shadows and devour you whole.

Your desperation stung Aemond's heart, and sympathy clouded his sense that the fear you felt was something he, too, experienced. After a long pause, your uncle shifted to the side, noiselessly lifting his sheets and making room beside him.

Breathing a loud sigh of relief that reminded him of a fish gasping for air, you closed the door, running to Aemond’s bed and immediately clinging to his side. He knew you to be affectionate, but he still carried concern in his mind. Yet how you trembled like a frightened fawn, told him this was not a rouse. You were sincerely terrified that your eldest uncle would return and no one would stop him this time.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me,” you sobbed into your uncle’s green nightshirt, gripping the fabric so tight that Aemond worried it would rip. “Please, please, please don’t let him hurt me again, uncle. I can still feel it between my legs.”

Aemond froze at the sudden burst of intimacy, slowly wrapping his arms around your quivering body. Despite the context of the situation, having you so close sent a pleasant tingling down the base of his spine. He tried to focus on your breathing, waiting for it to calm down before he spoke again.

Though he was beginning to tolerate your presence, having you within his bed chambers was not something he wanted.

Aemond recalled the last time you experienced panic like this, a type too intense for your body to manage, ripping your hair straight from the root in response. He hated to realize he didn’t want you to suffer like that again, and unconsciously, he began to stroke the crown of your head.

It felt good to be needed, so desperately wanted by someone that they tried to crawl inside him, seeking protection, and Aemond felt an overwhelming urge to protect you how a wolf does its pup. He would shelter you from all monsters and people that sought you harm so long as you returned to him with the same wet eyes and arms full of love.

When you finally relaxed, no longer shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind, he spoke, praying that your exhausted mind would forget his confession in the morning.

“When I have a dragon he will not hurt you so long as you’re with me.”

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Oh, sweet prophetic girl. You know so much yet can do so little. Cursed with the knowledge of what will come and what has yet to be. Let's all pour one out for Helaena, besties.

I hope this chapter makes up for how sad the last one was. I love writing for angsty young Aemond. As always, thank you for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist

[girlactionfigure]

Worn and weary, balding, with sad eyes, Raoul Wallenberg looked much older than his 31 years of age when in 1944 he was assigned the responsibility of saving Jews in Hungary. The assignment came by way of the War Refugee Board, an American organization formed that same year with the goal of saving Jews from persecution by the Nazis.

Raoul, who had some Jewish lineage but was not considered Jewish, was born in Sweden to a prominent family of bankers, diplomats, and politicians. He was expected to follow in the footsteps of his family, but he decided to become an architect.

He went to study architecture in America, at the University of Michigan. During his time in college, Raoul worked odd jobs despite his family’s wealth, and hitchhiked across the US, Canada, and Mexico during holidays. He continued hitchhiking even after getting robbed and thrown into a ditch by four men who offered him a lift. In a letter to his grandfather, Raoul wrote of his love of hitchhiking, “When you travel like a hobo, everything’s different. You have to be on the alert the whole time. You’re in close contact with new people every day. Hitchhiking gives you training in diplomacy and tact.”

Raoul finished the University of Michigan with honors, even winning a medal for his scholastic achievements. Unable to find architecture work in Sweden after graduation, Raoul briefly lived in South Africa, soon moving to Palestine for a banking apprenticeship. It was in Palestine that Raoul first encountered Jewish refugees from Germany. The refugees made a strong impact on Raoul.

Upon returning to Sweden, Raoul went into the import/export business with a man of Hungarian Jewish decent. Once it became harder for his partner to travel to Hungary due to his being Jewish, Raoul started making the trips himself. He traveled frequently to Budapest, learned Hungarian in addition to his already knowing French, English, German, and Russian, and ultimately went on to head the international arm of the business, soon becoming a joint owner of the company.

In 1944 Germany occupied Hungary. At the time of the occupation, Hungary had close to 700,000 Jewish citizens. By the time Raoul arrived in Hungary on his mission of rescue, over 400,000 of them had been sent to Auschwitz.

Raoul wasted no time. He did everything he could think of to save Jewish people. He bribed, extorted, bluffed, and threatened to achieve his aims of saving as many people as possible.

With a fellow Swedish diplomat he created official looking protective passes to give out to Jews granting them Swedish citizenship and making them exempt from wearing the yellow badge that Nazis required them to wear. Sandor Ardai, one of Raoul’s drivers, recalled a time when Raoul came upon a train full of Jews about to depart to Auschwitz,

“He climbed up on the roof of the train and began handing in protective passes through the doors which were not yet sealed. He ignored orders from the Germans for him to get down, then the Arrow Cross [the Hungarian Nazi party] men began shooting and shouting at him to go away. He ignored them and calmly continued handing out passports to the hands that were reaching out for them. I believe the Arrow Cross men deliberately aimed over his head, as not one shot hit him, which would have been impossible otherwise. I think this is what they did because they were so impressed by his courage. After Wallenberg had handed over the last of the passports he ordered all those who had one to leave the train and walk to the caravan of cars parked nearby, all marked in Swedish colours. I don’t remember exactly how many, but he saved dozens off that train, and the Germans and Arrow Cross were so dumbfounded they let him get away with it!”

In total Raoul gave out tens of thousands of such protective passes, but the German government eventually caught on to the ruse and ruled the passes invalid. When Raoul heard of this, he called on Baroness Elisabeth Kemeny, the wife of the Hungarian Minister for Foreign Affairs in Budapest, for help,

‘’Raoul implored me to help. He was desperate. I talked to my husband and said he must do something. He told me ‘I can’t fight the whole cabinet.’ But after midnight word came that 9,000 passes would be honored. I can still remember Raoul’s elation, his happiness.’’ The baroness had finally persuaded her husband to help by threatening to leave him if he didn’t.

When the Germans abandoned the use of trains to transport Jewish prisoners, instead forming 125 mile death marches toward Auschwitz, Raoul began visiting stopping areas to save people.

“‘You there!’ The Swede pointed to an astonished man, waiting for his turn to be handed over to the executioner. ‘Give me your Swedish passport and get in that line,’ he barked. ‘And you, get behind him. I know I issued you a passport.’ Wallenberg continued, moving fast, talking loud, hoping the authority in his voice would somewhat rub off on these defeated people…The Jews finally caught on. They started groping in pockets for bits of identification. A driver’s license or birth certificate seemed to do the trick. The Swede was grabbing them so fast; the Nazis, who couldn’t read Hungarian anyway, didn’t seem to be checking. Faster, Wallenberg’s eyes urged them, faster, before the game is up. In minutes he had several hundred people in his convoy. International Red Cross trucks, there at Wallenberg’s behest, arrived and the Jews clambered on…”

In one of his final acts of rescue, Raoul intimidated the supreme commander of German forces in Hungary, Major-General Gerhard Schmidthuber, into not blowing up a Jewish ghetto housing 70,000 people. As the war was coming to an end and there was not enough time to send the remaining Jews to Auschwitz, Adolf Eichmann, a major organizer of the Holocaust, ordered the slaughter of all Hungarian Jews in one mass execution. When Raoul found out about this, he sent word to Schmidthuber that if he were to go through with the slaughter, Raoul would personally see that he was hanged for crimes against humanity after the war. Knowing that Hitler was close to defeat, Schmidthuber acquiesced and called off the massacre.

Raoul took such risks because his perspective on the work he was doing was simple, “I will never be able to go back to Sweden without knowing inside myself that I’d done all a man could do to save as many Jews as possible.”

In total Raoul saved close to 100,000 Jews. He himself was captured by the Soviets on suspicion of being a spy and is presumed to have died a Soviet prisoner.

Historical Snapshots

[drefear]

Hail to the King (prologue)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

The restaurant was on 5th Avenue, between Gucci and Balenciaga. Miguel stepped out of his SUV and buttoned the suit jacket he had on, glancing around at the glittering lights of the street, identifying certain faces he knew and familiarizing the ones he didn’t. Walking into the restaurant, he glanced at security at the front and they just nodded at him as he walked in towards the hostess stand. The girl looked up at the 6’9 man, intimidated as she kept her eyes down once she realized who he was, and led him to a table towards the back.

This was a normal night for him once a month, taking a specific meeting here to discuss imports and exports to the city and the competition of the other families.

Miguel O’Hara was a name that many feared in this city, The head of the O’Hara family, a facade for the mafia that ran Nueva York, he was in charge of most organized crime within the metropolitan area and some of the biggest drug trafficking rings within the state. Being a mafia boss aside, the man was huge. His hand could wrap around an average man’s throat and crush it without flexing more than his hand.

He walked to his table without really needing to be led, the girl placing the menus down and walking away without a word. He sat and spread his legs a bit, leaning one elbow on the table and thinking quietly. Another presence made him stand and reach forward, shaking the man’s hand.

“Nice to see you again.” He spoke and sat with the man, talking about some business.

You were new. Very new. Your second night. You’d just moved to the city to become a writer, loving the scenery and hustle of the lives here. Visiting when you were young was always the best feeling, your parents showing you around and bringing you around to see the staples of Nueva York.

You had just finished serving another table for a lovely couple visiting the city as you saw someone get seated in your section. Walking towards the table with a skip in your step, you smiled at the two men and waved. “Hello! I’ll be your server tonight, how about we get started with-”

“Where’s Gwen?” Miguel glared at you as he raised a brow, as if you’d disrespected him in some way.

“Oh, uh. She’s not working tonight.” You added, intimidated.

“I only order from Gwen.” He deadpanned as you scrunch your nose in confusion. “Go get Peter.” He demanded, to which you began to boil a bit. How dare he speak to you like this? Yes, this was a very high end restaurant, but no one was allowed to treat you so terribly, to speak down to you. Your mother taught you never to accept that type of behavior.

“I don’t think I will.” You answered, with the same insulting tone he did, the man sitting across him staring at you with wide eyes. “At least, until you learn to speak to me correctly.”

“Do you know who I am?” He hissed, eyes boring into you and standing in front of you with a towering stature, but you didn’t care. Big or small, no one got to demean you.

“No, and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t give a shit enough about a 15 dollar tip to tolerate your rudeness. Learn how to speak to people before you walk around like some bigshot.” You leaned up towards him, eyes narrowed with anger that mirrored his.

Someone rushed in between the two of you and placed a hand on both of your shoulders. “Hey! Miguel, hi, how are you? I forgot to tell you that Gwen wasn’t feeling well today and called out sick. Hopefully, our new little beauty will suffice.” Peter, your manager, spoke with a friendliness in his voice, a familiarity he must have had with Miguel.

The hulking man stood up straighter, still looking down at you with a snarl still evident on his face. “She won’t be working here anymore.” He spoke in a cool tone, as if just asking about the weather. Your jaw dropped and you glanced between him and Peter.

“You can’t- I don’t-” You stuttered in disbelief and watched him unbutton his suit jacket, taking it off. “How dare you?” You got louder now, calling attention from the few hidden tables beside you.

“You have a disregard for who someone is, and you have no patience for others who try to put you in your place.” He announced, ignoring your angry chatter. “You start to work for me right now.”

“What?” You and Peter gawked as he sat back down and handed you his coat.

“I do not work for you.” You growled with hatred dripping from your lips.

“Well, you don’t have another job anymore, isn't that right, Peter?” He flashed a look of Warning to Peter and he looked between you two before giving you an apologetic smile. “Glad that’s understood. Go wait in the car and I’ll be out in ten minutes to take you home and give you your new assignments for tomorrow.” he waved you off and everything in your being shook with rage. You removed your apron and threw it at the large man.

“Fuck you!” You shouted before exiting the building.

Chapter 1

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[ruukachoo]

Okay so I need to talk about corru.observer

So I'm just sitting here, minding my own business, poking around on the social media sphere when I see a repost of a post talking about a browser game called corru.observer . "Huh," I say to myself, "a browser game about rummaging through an alien biocomputer? Well, I do like my weird fiction, and a biocomputer sounds intreresting. I'll take a look. It's a browser game, in my experience those are typically pretty short, I can give it a looksee and then get on with my life. How long could it take?"

That, my friends, is what we call hubris.

A week and change later I've binged through everything I possibly can (with the exception of the optional hard archive vein section because I'm terrible at the video games especially when they activate hard mode I still haven't dealt with the hard sections in Deltarune ugh why must they put more plot behind hard sections). I have been left staring at the ceiling muttering about mindcores and thoughtforms and weeping over characters. I've talked Eien's ear off puzzling through the story and my brain is still running several cycles repeatedly trying to suss things out.

What I'm trying to say is this game is GOOD and it's gripped my brain HARD.

Unfortunately I learned that it wasn't finished yet well after I had passed the point of no return (this has been happening to me a lot this year with other media, I can't say I'm fond of this trend--I never did like cliffhangers) so I'm left waiting for the next part to come out and in the meantime I have to get out how amazing this game is and maybe convince some other folks to play it because I need to yell more and theorize and there's only so much I can do on my own.

The non-spoilery review: IT'S GOOD GO PLAY IT.

But seriously, the premise basically boils down to: you're a contractor that's been hired to retrieve info from an alien biocomputer that's been recently salvaged from a wreck at the bottom of the ocean. And then it gets weird.

Actually, to quote a character from much later, this is probably the best tagline for the game: "It will probably only get stranger!"

Aesthetically, the game reminds me a little of Welcome to Night Vale. Writing and humor-wise, it reminds me a little of Undertale. There are some elements that remind me a little of Hatoful Boyfriend shut up it does make sense if you've played through it. It's a game full of nooks and crannies to explore and a whole bushel of questions and mysteries to solve. I realize in hindsight that it pings a lot of the things that also caused me to gravitate towards Steven Universe: compelling and complex characters, tons of mysteries big and small to chew on, and rock solid worldbuilding. I am seriously in love with the worldbuilding here - everything, right down to the reason you hear music and the appearance of the characters, has a reason, and part of the joy of the game for me is just figuring everything out. Media scores major points with me when it becomes apparent that the creators have Thought Through Things.

My only really negative thing to say is that while I love the immersive interface, I would have appreciated a little readme file or an annotation or something to indicate how to save the game. In internet years I'm older than the pyramids and I grew up on point-and-click adventure games where being able to save every five seconds is paramount, and I think I would've had a little less anxiety at the beginning if I knew how to save my progress in case Firefox borked or something (I think the answer is there's import/export file functions under data management I THINK that's what it is).

But yes, overall, really good, loved it, really wanting the next part to come out now.

OKAY NOW SOME OTHER THOUGHTS EXCUSE ME WHILE I DO A BIT OF SCREAMING.

NNNNGH THESE CHARACTERS I LOVE THEM. They are all so good. I love Cavik's eagerness and Tovik's determination, I love how Gakvu and Miltza manage to work together despite their differences, I love Kazki's gentleness and Bozko's protectiveness, I love how Idril is basically the answer to the question "What if Osaka from Azumanga Daioh was a dull engineer?". I think what makes it work so well is that you get a chance to spend some time with them, the Call Team in particular. You see them when times are good and when everything is falling apart. The visual novel format, where a lot of the narration is from Akizet's POV, works super well here. You get not only a chance to see what Akizet thinks of them based on what she knows about them, but you see how her thoughts and opinions of them change over the course of the story, particularly in relation to the collapse arc. It gives them an extra boost of life that I think might not have been possible from a more distant POV. They're allowed to be complex and deep.

And oh Akizet is a multidimensional delight. I love her fondness for orange juice. I love how she is doing her best. I love how she is anxious and overthinks things and it's clear that she is trying to do the right thing, even if there are some pretty clear signs that she isn't always making the best choice. I love how she has regrets and joys and stumbles. I love how she is more competent than she thinks she is. I love how she loves these people. Her scene with Bozko where he's spiraling and she hugs him because it's the only thing she can do is lodged in me, both for how relatable it is when wanting to help someone dealing with trauma and the only thing you can do is be there for them, and because oh Aki, you don't need to be a Tir, you just need to be a friend. You just need to be you.

I feel like the overarching theme of the game is "Everyone is doing the best they can with what they have." Right down to the partial translations of words from the mindspike and the fragmented state of the cyst, everything that happens is coming from a place of working with what you've got. That kinda makes the end of the collapse even more tragic, as it's being made abundantly clear that Akizet did not have all the pieces to deal with Vekoa. All she had was her previous knowledge of what she had seen, and all of that pointed to, in her mind, Vekoa attempting a deception. Although I wonder how much of that is based off of what she saw and what she believed. There's a TON of layers here still to uncover.

And there are SO MANY QUESTIONS. There's the big ones of course ("What happened to Akizet?" "What the heck is the deal with the meteorite anyway?" "What is Velzie hiding?" "Who sent the message to Akizet that set everything in motion?"), although there are some smaller ones that I keep chewing on.

What is Kazki's role in all of this? She was conspicuously absent from the collapse, and it made sense she wouldn't be present based on her role, but I keep wondering if there was more going on with her than is apparent. She had been regularly speaking with a human, but the details of that interaction haven't been made known, so is it possible she has more involvement than we currently know? The fact that Drowning, who holds some of Akizet's memories of Kazki and may look like how Kazki actually looks, is guarding some of the deeper parts of the cyst, suggests a greater role.

What is Velzie anyway? The obvious answer is some sort of thoughtform, but from what? Something I started thinking about recently after looking at some of the transcripts is how Tozik wanted Akizet to share the truth about the meteorite. We assume his message got out at the end, but did it? Is Velzie related to Tozik somehow? On the other hand there's evidence Cavik might have some connection as well. HM.

"OUR" DULL SHIP? WHO IS THIS "OUR"??

How much can Funfriend really be trusted? This one's gotten me into a LOT of knots. Funfriend is trying to repair the cyst and is again, doing the best it can with what it has, but the Council and Jokzi Ozo suggest that maybe it's not what the rest of the cyst wants. Honestly I was starting to get a bit of a Myst vibe, where it feels like we're getting two opposing viewpoints and we're eventually going to have to choose one of them (or perhaps a third as-of-yet-unknown third option). But getting back to Funfriend, it's repairing with what it has to work with and its own memories of Akizet and what happened, so how much of that can be trusted? Are we seeing what actually happened, or are we seeing what Funfriend wants us to see?

What IS that weird dark space in Jokzi Ozo with eyes that look an awful lot like Tovik's?

Will we ever get to have a drink with the orange juice effigy? I'M ASKING THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS HERE.

Nngh, in the end all I can do is ponder for right now, but when the next part comes out I will be SO ready. And maybe by then I'll have figured out how to get through the archival vein. PLEASE BSTRD, I NEED MORE PLOT AND LORE. I'M NOT A GAMER, I JUST WANT THE STOOOOOORY!!!

[therosebookshop]

Beloved of the Dragon

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Contains/Warnings: fluff, dragon Neuvi because I said so, it’s short, rich judge man because yes

A/N: yall liked my birb xiao Drabble so here you go

Song: None

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Everybody knows Monsieur Neuvilette is a busy man. He’s the Chief Justice, after all. He has court cases, as well as the task of presiding over Fontaine. And his being detached from humans so much leads people to perceive him as cold, aloof, quiet. Not many people ever see him in public or at all anyway.

But you do. You’re the first person he’s ever loved. It was uncomfortable at first, a lot of learning and firsts and trial and error. But now he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. You help him with some of his paperwork as his secretary, which is how you two met. And you two always walk home together. He makes you take at least a day off per week, and on those days when he gets home dinner is ready and your arms are open for him.

Speaking of those days, they’re his favorite. He doesn’t care about your body insecurities- if you’re thin or if you’re skinny, if you have small or big assets. When you’re cuddled up to him in bed after dinner and a bath together, you’re in his arms, him pressing loving kisses to your skin. And when he’s comfortable enough to be in his dragon form with you? You’re cuddled against a dragon body, pinned under an arm and tucked against his cool scales.

Words of affection are hard for him. But physical affection is so much easier. So are gifts. He’s rich, enough money to spoil you for your whole life, despite how he lives. You talk about something you saw in a shop? It’s in your hands the next day. You mention craving a food? He’s buying you so much of it that you’re stuffed. You’re exhausted from a day of work? So is he, and you’ll be tucked under his dragon form, content against his chest, his head resting on you.

Dragons are fiercely protective of what’s theirs. It’s not blatantly obvious, since he’s not seen with you much in public as anything more then boss and secretary, but a few months into dating and there’s a lot of hickeys on your neck- and on places hidden by clothes- and you’re covered in his smell, and right on your neck is his mark- a bite with a hydro symbol at the center.

And you’re the prettiest thing in his collection of treasures. He likes buying you expensive clothes to wear around the house- for his eyes only, of course- and seeing you in them, all dressed up in silks and exported materials.

And when he proposes, without hesitation you say yes. You’re mortal. And he’s not. There are ways to make a mortal immortal, through a curse or something similar. But he would never force you to be immortal just for him, to forever be by his side. Even if Fontaine will drown from his tears if you chose to stay mortal and die, he would do it.

Because you’re simply more important.

[prudentseer]

May I just say you write some of the best period style fics. This is the original anon btw. Everything about your au is so. I don't even have words actually its so immersive and believable. Coincidentally I was also thinking of an arranged marriage au when I wrote the ask! I have read through the whole thing repeatedly all evening.

I imagine Etho is a recluse, and Joel has to attend the balls and social events alone. So Joel faces many rumours about his marriage , especially considering their wedding was still not too long ago. Until Etho awkwardly asks to accompany Joel one evening. When some people notice Etho and Joel aren't dancing, they talk. Etho hears this and decides to ask joel to dance. As it turns out they're both awful dancers, but they have fun despite it, even if Joel is bewildered about Etho's behaviour lol

Please don't take this as any pressure to write! I'm simply glad to have someone else who loves period aus.

Great minds think alike ;)

In all seriousness I could not have gotten this far without prompting so really I have everyone who's shown so much love for these writing scraps thanks; especially you for coming up with the original idea! I'd say you were my muse but it's more like you are God and I'm just sending my offerings (/j).

This one is a lot more rough around the edges but I really wanted to get back into writing after being sick for a while so here it is! This is the third installment of this "series" but it happens prior to either of them (it's also 1.5k words this time, I'm sorry). Thanks for stopping by!

Joel's family name could be traced back to the start of the empire.

A rich history, beautiful natural landmarks and a sanctuary to those fleeing from war. He had everything he could possibly need and things were well.

Then the gold mines dried up.

Certain dyes–their largest export–fell out of fashion and the biggest drought in recorded history swept through his estate. All of a sudden, his family was close to being destitute.

So he had to get married.

It didn't matter that Joel studied hard to be knowledgeable in anything from politics to arithmetic to language. It didn't matter that Joel was offered a position in the royal guard at age fourteen for his strength and mechanical ability. It didn't matter that Etho hated him from the second he saw him.

Whatever future Joel had was second to his family name. He had a legacy to defend, a reputation to keep and like everything else he had to learn to be okay with it.

So he did what any good husband would do. He listened to the rules of the house and kept his mouth (for the most part) shut. He handled small projects and paperwork, never needing to be asked. He never inquired for anything outside necessities, and accepted gifts handed to him with a smile. He worked in the confines of their deal, no matter how skewed they seemed at times.

A knock at his door draws him out of his thoughts. He jolts upright, scrambling for a pen to look busy.

"Come in!" He shouts, head down as almost catlike quiet footsteps tread into the room. He doesn't need to look up to know who just walked in. "I dropped off the documents detailing the expansion on your desk ea–"

"You're going to the ball tonight right? The one the King's hosting?"

Joel's eyes narrow at the almost nervous tone of Etho's voice. He dips his pen into the inkwell before responding.

"Yes, half past seven, I told you this at dinner."

"I remember." He replied, a small sigh escaping his lips. "What's the dress code?"

Joel's head snaps outwards so fast something might've popped in his neck. Etho looks…well he always looks slightly anxious when he speaks–hunched over on himself ever so slightly to make himself look smaller–but it's the shakiest Joel thinks he's ever seen him.

"Excuse me?!"

"Dress code?" He repeats, staring at the ends of his sleeves. "I'm wondering if my pale blue broach would be allowed–"

"You're coming with me?"

He's still not looking at Joel, choosing instead to wring his hands. "Yes. Can I?"

Etho didn't do social events unless he had to. His estate being so close to the mountains practically trained him and his entire family to be more…independent. Besides, Etho never seemed enthusiastic enough to go so Joel never asked. Sure, it led to ignoring the whispers and the pitiful stares he got just by showing up, giving a tight lipped smile and a half baked excuse whenever someone had the courage to ask why he was attending the ball alone but it worked for the most part.

So what was going on?

"Is there someone you want to meet there?" Joel asks, going through a list of attendees in his head.

"No?" Etho replied, head tilted like Joel was the one who said something absurd.

"I–but you–" Joel stops himself. "There's no dress code but why–"

"I'll see you later then."

And like that Etho's scrambling out the door like there's a fire in the room and Joel can only sit there and hope that the day he'll finally understand Etho will come soon.

------

It's a bad idea.

Everything about tonight was a bad idea. Etho can't recall the last time he went to any social event of this caliber let alone with a partner. He...pitied Joel, or at least something close to that emotion because he had felt good when he had initially asked to attend with him but now it felt much more real.

It still didn't feel real as he dressed himself that evening, fumbling with the neckline of his tie. It still didn't feel real the entire carriage ride over, staring out the window as Joel gave him the same puzzled expression every time they made eye contact. But it does feel real as he stands right in front of the ballroom doors, heavy mahogany muffling the soft orchestra music and distant chatter.

Joel wordlessly turns Etho to face him. Before Etho can ask why, Joel's fingers find the broach Etho pinned on himself earlier, adjusting it so it's straight. There's an almost stoic look on his face, concentrated like this ball is only a means to an end, a goal to reach rather than a fun event. Etho sees himself in Joel's eyes and that brings a surprising amount of comfort to him.

"Ready?" He asks when he finishes, holding out his arm for Etho to take.

He latches on without hesitation. "Yes."

The lights nearly blind him, music swelling and chatter all extremely overwhelming. He digs his fingers into Joel who thankfully doesn't react, every other muscle in his body seized up as he forces one foot in front of the other. People stop. People stare. A lot of people stare, pulling at the sleeves of others and whispering; hands blocking mouths and judgement clear in their eyes.

"I'm going to speak with some friends, will you be okay alone for a bit?"

No. Don't leave me alone.

"Is there somewhere I can get something to drink?" He asks instead, already feeling his throat dry up.

Joel smiles, a weak thing. "Refreshment table is on the far left, help yourself."

The eyes on him make him tense the entire way there, barely breathing and looking through everyone as he makes his way to the refreshments table. Bite sized foods, fancy plates and champagne. He has no appetite but he takes a flute of champagne, clenching onto the glass and bringing it to his lips with a shaky hand as he tries to force himself to relax.

He watches Joel who looks almost natural in this scene. Flowing around into different groups like an intricate dance, laughter and smiles following him wherever he went. People call out to him and vye for his attention, they greet him kindly and pull him into conversations. Open and warm while Etho remains comfortably invisible in the shadows.

"He came with his husband today."

Etho's ears perk up at the nearby conversation two ladies in loud dresses are having nearby, colourful fans covering their faces.

"I'm surprised the husband is real, honestly." The second woman laughs hautly, back still turned to Etho. "Did you see them split the moment they walked in? Not a single dance together."

"If it took seven months to convince my husband to come out to a ball with me after marriage, I would be embarrassed to be seen with him too."

Etho places the flute back on the table behind him. "Excuse me ladies."

They both have the decency to appear embarrassed as Etho makes his way to Joel who's chatting to a man with orange hair. Both of their eyes go wide when they notice him.

"Etho?"

"Can we dance?" He turns to the other man who fortunately doesn't seem too bothered. "Sorry, did you want to dance with him fi–"

"No! You two go ahead!"

He realized later in hindsight that he should've asked for a name or displayed any sort of good manners to the mystery man but instead Etho simply held out his hand for Joel before walking them both to the dance floor.

Joel fills the silence as the move.

"Something wrong?" Joel whispers, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

"People were talking." He mumbles back.

"People always talk, you don't have–"

"You'll have to take the lead." Etho interrupts as they reach the center of the dance floor, grabbing Joel's waist with his free hand. "I don't know how to dance."

Joel chuckles. "I don't either."

"How? You come to so many of these?"

"I fake it." Joel shrugs, stepping forward and almost onto Etho's foot. "Usually the other person is good enough to lead."

They sway back and forth awkwardly for a few seconds, narrowly avoiding bumping into each other several times. It's painful, embarrassing and he can't imagine it's pretty to look at either with how many eyes he feels on him.

"We're off beat aren't we?" He murmurs, eyes down at their feet and face flush under his mask.

"Not even close."

"Should we stop?"

"Nah." Joel replies, Etho looking up to see him biting back a smile. "Let's give everyone something more interesting to talk about."

Without warning, Joel spins him almost violently, barely catching him from falling with two hands before dragging him back up and flush against his body.

"Joel!"

He should be furious but when he opens his mouth to argue the only thing that bubbles up is laughter. Joel laughs too, so bright and loud and uncontrollable they both look like mad men. Stomping around on the dance floor and almost backing into people; Etho's lightheaded from how much he laughs.

"Spin me next!" Joel exclaims breathlessly, stumbling forward and almost falling into Etho.

"Hold on!"

Joel was right, they'll be the talk of the party.

But Etho can't bring himself to care.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Sooo I am from the Southern United States,and so I can't help but picture Konig having to deal with a Southern!Wifey.

One thing Konig will have to get used to, if his little wife is Southern,is her food and drinks. She will make Biscuits and Gravy(White Gravy) and drink Sweet Iced Tea by the gallon. Also,if she is the home maker he will learn he can not set foot in her kitchen while she is cooking otherwise he will be put to work. "Oh handsy hmm? Well if you have energy to be handsy you can peel potatoes,shuck corn,and shell some peas now can't you?"

He will never go hungry,or have to worry about her defending herself. Nothing is scarier than an angry southern woman with a cast iron pan in her hand.

Sorry if this like came from no where,I just don't see a lot of southerner rep in COD headcanons or stories and sorta just wanted to share my thoughts!

Hi!! Omg sometimes I forget that Americans are real, it's sounds so cool!! Konig is FOLDED. Southern wifey actually goes really well with his traditional values and how he perceives his possible wife-to-be. He was raised on the belief that a true Austrian woman should always care about home, cooking, going to church etc, and be ready to face the attackers with her own powers - so when his adorable wifey from overseas cooks for him, takes care of him, all with that cute accent of hers...poor guy is ready to get USA citizenship and buy a farm in the midwest. He loves your food! He is a big boy and he needs meat, and he would gladly sacrifice his time to cook with you just so he could get an opportunity to grop your ass and steal a few kisses while you are too busy with doing the meat. Someone is trying to harass you and before Konig could step up, you already defeated the attacker?? Omg he wishes he could marry you a second time..... He is a bit of a cringe cowboy fan because he is a loser who was reading that very old western and exported Italian cowboy movies, so he still thinks of you as a bit of a cowgirl...he would silently push a hat to your direction, but would actually fucking die if you'd wear it.

[sgiandubh]

When you do not know a thing about the issue at stake...

...perhaps it's better to remain silent.

Some of you know, others don't - and that's fine - but my main field of expertise is labor law.

I just read this in anger and disbelief:

Look, lady. I don't care who the hell you are, what you do for a living or why you felt entitled to answer those insistent questions on your side of the fandom. I suppose you are North American and have no idea of how things work on this side of the pond. It is fine: I might know what a Congress filibuster is, for example, but I'd be severely unable to judge the finer points of competence sharing between Fed and state level.

The difference between you and me?

I keep my mouth shut and/or do my own research before opening it in public.

Have you no shame to write things like: 'It was discovered clothing factories in Bulgaria and Portugal made it and how workers were exploited, mostly women, because these factories were in special economic zones in these countries exempt from EU employee rights and regulations.'

HOW DARE YOU? What strange form of illiterate entitlement possessed you to utter such things with confidence, comfortably hidden behind a passive voice ('it was discovered')?

Portugal joined the EU in 1986. Bulgaria (and my country) joined the EU in 2007. I have given 5 relentless years of my life to make this collective political project a reality, along with hundreds of other people my age who chose to come back home from the West and put their skills to good use for their country. In doing so, I rejected more than 10 excellent corporate job offers in France and China. To see you come along and write such enormities is like having you spit in my face.

Article 4 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (aka The Treaty of Rome) is formal and clear, as far as competence sharing between the EU and its Member States goes (the UK was still, back then, a full member of the EU - it quit on February 1st 2020):

That means that ALL the EU regulations are being integrated into the national legislation of the Member States. This is not a copy/paste process, however. And because it is a shared competence area, the Member States have a larger margin of appreciation into making the EU rules a part of their own. While exceptions or delays in this process can be and are negotiated, the core principles are NEVER touched.

Read it one hundred times, madam, maybe you'll learn something today:

THERE ARE NO SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONES IN THE EUROPEAN UNION. THE WHOLE FUCKING EUROPEAN UNION IS A SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONE, THIS IS WHY IT IS CALLED THE SINGLE MARKET.

What the fuck do you think we are, Guangzhou? We'd wish, seeing the growth statistics!

Now, for the textile industry sector and particularly with regard to the Bulgarian market, a case very similar to my own country. Starting around 1965, many big European textile players realized the competitive advantage of using the lower paid, readily available Eastern European workforce. In order to be able to do business with all those dour Communist regimes, the solution was simple and easy to find: toll manufacturing.

It worked (and still does!) like this:

The foreign partner brings its own designs, textiles and know-how into the mix - or more simply put, it outsources all these activities. The locals transform it into the finished product, using their own workforce. The result is then re-exported to the foreign partner, who labels it and sells it. In doing so, he has the legal obligation to include provenance on the label ('made in Romania', 'made in Indonesia', 'made in Bulgaria' - you name it).

The reason you might find less and less of those 'made in ' labels nowadays at Primark and more and more at Barbour, Moncler and the such is the constant raise of the workers' wages in Eastern Europe since 1990 (things happened there, in 1989, maybe you remember?). We are not competitive anymore for midrange prêt-à-porter - China (Shein, anyone?), Cambodia and Mexico do come to mind as better suppliers. To speak about 'exploited female labourers in rickety old factories' is an insult and a lie. They weren't exploited back in the Eighties, as they are not now (workers in those factories were and still are easily paid about 50% more than all the rest) and the factories being modernized and constantly updated was always a mandatory clause in any contract of the sort. Normal people in our countries rarely or ever saw those clothes. You had to either be lucky enough for a semi-confidential store release or bribe someone working there and willing to take the risk, in order to be able to buy the rejected models on the local market.

If I understood correctly, you place this critical episode at the launch of the limited SRH & Barbour collection, for the fall of 2018. How convenient for you, who (I am told by trusted people) were one of the most vocal critics of S during Hawaii 2.0!

And as far as Barbour goes, it never pretended to manufacture everything in the UK only:

This information is absolutely true. You can read the whole statement, signed in October 2017 by one of their Directors, Ian Sime, here: https://www.barbour.com/us/media/wysiwyg/PDF/Ethical_Statement_October_2017.pdf

And a snapshot for you:

Oh, and: SEDEX is a behemoth in its world, with more than 75.000 companies joining as a member (https://www.sedex.com/become-a-member/meet-our-customers/). Big corporations like TESCO, Dupont, Nestle, Sainsbury's or Unilever included.

I am not Bulgarian, but I know all of this way better than you'll probably ever do. The same type of contracts were common all over Eastern Europe: Romania, Poland, the GDR (that's East Berlin and co, for you) and even the Soviet Union. I am also sure your Portuguese readers will be thrilled to see themselves qualified by a patronizing North American as labor exploiters living in a third-world country with rickety factories.

You people have no shame and never did. But you just proved with trooping colors you also have no culture and no integrity. More reasons to not regret my unapologetic fandom choice.

I expect an angry and very, very vulgar answer to this, even if I chose to not include your name/handle. The stench of your irrelevance crossed an ocean.

[kebriones]

Idk if you have answered this before but how do you see the future for artists in Greece?

I know a small country with mostly agricultural and many people try desperately to meet ends meet and work a lot. Of course that's a global issue what work people prefer but i don't like art being discriminated.

In Greece how's it looking?

Unfortunately, greece is no longer a mainly agricultural economy. Tourism and shipping are by far our main industries.

It's true that many people struggle here, and the way things are going, will continue to struggle. And it's true that artists in general, not just here, always have the most unstable jobs and struggle.

It's not looking good. And for greece specifically everything seems to keep getting worse. The arts are overlooked on all levels, from primary school to university to funding for theaters or even exporting art. Nobody seems to understand how important it is for a culture to be producing and 'consuming' its own art. You slowly lose yourself when all you ever read and watch is from other cultures. Of course it's vital to interact with the arts of other cultures. But not exclusively that. Plus most of it is from the US/the anglosphere anyway.

All types of art are suffering here, but I see people keep trying. Not the majority, the majority of artists I know feel hopeless and defeated. But there are still artists who try to make it here. They make great music and comics and indie movies and great theater plays. And i do think that we can do so much more. The gaming and animation industries are almost non existent here, and there's so much potential there. You don't need some great infrastructure for those, you just need people who are willing to work, and a little financial support because so many people genuinely live in poverty right now. And it's these people who, upon given the opportunity will work the hardest. Many rich kids I know from art school don't care about working hard and making it, because it is actually very hard to be an artist, and it's easier to just go work for your dad's business than slave away in a moldy basement you're paying half of your income in rent for. In other countries with developed industries in these things, you don't need financial support to kickstart them, because there actually are studios you can go work for and learn in etc and the industry exists already.

The prevailing attitude here is that you need to migrate to find work, to be appreciated, to have a good life and do something that matters and not waste yourself. Which is, currently, the most reasonable route for an artist, and what I dreamed of when I was in highschool. But seeing a place like this destroy itself and become nothing but a fancy amusement park for rich foreign people sucks. There's talent and there's people with things to offer here and a culture that gets lost because everyone, including ourselves, sees our culture as just antiquity. Modern greek culture is seen as insignificant, wrong and bastardized, it's not something to care about beyond the tasty food, it's not as great as it should be and it will never live up to a past so idealized it's fake. This is connected to our perception of our own artistic production right now. You have Euripides, you don't need to worry about writing great plays yourself. You have all these ancient sculptures, you don't need any more amazing sculptors. A kot has been said about this problem modern greece has. Antiquity is inescapable and you need to look at it and accept it on one hand, but it is a crutch and a discouragement on the other. We struggle to exist alongside it in a healthy way.

Anyway I am hopeful that things can get better, because i think we can make them better. We just need to work harder and focus and make ourselves heard through our art, chase opportunities and build communities here and not give up when everyone around you is telling you you're better off in a soul-crushing job that will at least provide you with a steady salary for the next 40 years of your life that can barely afford you rent and groceries.

[idyllphile]

Thank you for replying to my message! I really liked the post about Abuelita through despite having a different question hahaha

sorry again about that lol! I just saw 'Abuelita' and blanked out everything else and then I had My Whole Headcanon typed up and was like Well. lmao but I'll try to actually answer your question now! which was:

I've been mulling this over on and off for the past couple of days. how do I think the operation - meaning the cartel - got started? particularly as it relates to the Salamancas? difficult to pin down...

but I guess in a way, it must have started like every other 'group business venture' does; some people come together with an idea for something that'll make them money, and they put it into action. the first question we have to consider is 'did Hector/the Salamanca brothers create what would become the Jaurez Cartel themselves?' and I believe the answer is no, they didn't. I definitely think they were founding members, but I don't think they provided the seed capital or had the idea themselves. I think that was Eladio. why else would he get to be a fat cat lazing by the pool having money brought to him while the Salamancas get 'treated like dogs?' (and yes, those are Hector's angry and prideful words, but there is a stark difference between Eladio and everyone else)

and if you're wondering why I think the Salamancas were founders it's because, despite what Hector said, they actually do get a good amount of respect. they have their own territory! the South Valley is Salamanca Territory, and even when there's no Salamanca available to directly command it (Hector disabled, Lalo dead, Tuco imprisoned, the twins... I guess just not considered capable), Eladio decrees that it remains Salamanca Territory and specifically not under Gus's control like the rest of the North, out of respect to Hector and the Salamanca family

anyway, so our starting point is 'Eladio is the one who began the cartel and he brought the Salamancas in on it pretty early.' as for exactly how it went in those first days... a little research into real-world cartels is necessary. this WSJ article talks about the evolution of the drug trade through the decades, and I learned some interesting things from it! my main takeaway being that in the 1960s, the most popular drug export was marijauna and, quote, "the decade belonged to Argentina, Brazil and Chile"

Chile, huh? isn't that something?

and now yet another little 'me explaining myself' tangent: why do I think the Juarez cartel got started in the 60s rather than the 70s? it's because of Hector's 17-year prison sentence, which you kind of have to build all Salamanca-related timelines around. the earliest we ever see Hector chronologically is in the "One Minute" flashback which takes place in 1988. if Hector had just been released from San Quentin that year, it would mean he went inside in 1971 (though personally I think he probably got out a couple years before this moment). he obviously had to have been heavily involved with the cartel prior to his sentence, or else he wouldn't have come back to a don title and the power that comes with it. the Jaurez cartel was in operation probably from at least the mid-60s

it's possible that they only ever dealt with cocaine - it absolutely became their Thing, as Gus states in "Hermanos" that they smuggle and sell coke they buy from Columbia - despite beginning in a decade where it wasn't yet the biggest earner, but I do think they got their start with weed. why? because it adds layers!

remember how in the 60s, when weed was the number one export, it was the South American countries of Argentina, Brazil, and Chile who exported it? that means Hector would have likely dealt with the South American (maybe even Chilean) exporters directly. remember how when Hector expresses his disapproval of Gus in that "One Minute" phone call, he says, "never trust a South American; dirty, dirty people?"

now, obviously, no one needs a 'reason' to be racist. Hector's just racist. but him specifically saying South Americans 'can't be trusted' feels kinda personal, doesn't it? maybe he blames the cartel's past South American business associates for his arrest and long prison stretch; maybe he thinks they're somehow the reason he was caught. hell, maybe they actually were! like I said, layers! if Hector believes a guy from Chile who he used to work with is to blame for him being in prison for almost twenty years, it adds a little something extra to his instant dislike of Gus and Max and their desire to work with the cartel

but anyway, you weren't just asking about Hector's cartel beginnings, you mentioned his brothers as well. obviously, we know next to nothing about Hector's siblings; not names, not genders, not ages, zilch aside from the fact that there were three minimum and - by the time of BCS - Hector seems to be the only one still alive, or at least the only one still alive who's in the cartel. I personally headcanon that Hector and Lalo's father are twins, and that they're the oldest; it would make sense for them to be the ones who lead their younger brothers (yes I think they're all boys and that there are 'only' the four of them) into the budding cartel 'business opportunity' Eladio had invited them into

they would have been just entering their twenties in the 60s; a time when Mexico's economy was strong, imports were high as the country continued the rapid industrialization that had begun following WWII, and the labor force's growth exceeded that of industrial employment and many 'surplus workers' were either taking low-paying service jobs or migrating to the United States for higher wages (source for all of that). maybe Hector and his twin brother didn't like either of those ideas and chose to make their money through violent criminal activities, the kind that eventually lead to them meeting Eladio, joining his cartel while it was in its infancy, and bringing their brothers into it along with them

I think Hector's twin and the other two brothers worked as successful and loyal dons while Hector stewed in San Quentin, helping the cartel grow into the wealthy and dangerous empire it became. I think that, by the time Hector was released, they were all dead. I think that they all died at the same time in service to the cartel, a brutal slaying of Salamancas that only Hector escaped, much like what Gus would eventually do to all his nephews and his grandson. and how do I think three powerful Salamanca dons were murdered in one fell swoop?

a bomb :)