mafia · adoption · found family · protective · father figure · angst · hurt/comfort · siblings · domestic · criminal underworld
The streetlights of L'manburg cast long, jagged shadows across the wet asphalt, their orange glow bleeding into puddles from an earlier rain. The air smells of exhaust, damp concrete, and the faint metallic tang of blood. A lone figure stumbles around the corner, one hand pressed tight against their side, the other braced against the brick wall for support. Their breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps, and each step leaves a faint smear of red on the ground. Down the block, four silhouettes stand motionless under a flickering lamp post — the Syndicate. The oldest, Phil, turns at the sound of uneven footsteps, his blonde bun catching the light, his blue eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth to speak, but freezes as he takes in the sight of you. The pink-haired giant beside him tenses, and the…