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thefallennightmare · 4 months ago

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The Coyotes Cry-Two

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: reverse harem/why chose in most parts of this story, violence, death, swearing, angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist, smut(very mature: P in V unprotected, masturbation, oral with male and female receiving, dry humping, knife play, blood play, period sex, Dom! Noah, mask play, choking, degradation, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, reverse harem which means one woman with multiple partners, sometimes together.)

Summary: Saoirse "Scar" McManus's life is turned upside down when her father and uncle marry her off to Noah Sebastian, the Ruler of The Concrete Jungle and Leader of OMNS, her old high school crush. A marriage based on secrets and lies comes back to destroy OMNS and The Concrete Jungle from within. When Scar has no choice but to step foot into the The Grey looking for help, she realizes the price of love comes in a nest full of darkness.

Authors Note: Well after four months, we FINALLY have an update! It is a very long one so buckle up. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning! This one probably wont be updated nearly as quick as JP will be. Maybe once JP is finished, I'll have more time to update this one!

*I do not own the rights/names of Connor and Murphy McManus. Or anyone mentioned to the Boondock Saints.

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SCAR

Everything was so fucked.

How was my life bartered for a way of peace without my consent?

I understand it was something I had to do, for the family. But surely there had to be another way, right?

Wrong, if there was you wouldn’t be standing next to Noah Sebastian in an elevator as he was about to show you your new home. Not to mention, sharing a bed with him.

I nearly fell onto my ass when he told me that there was only one bedroom in his penthouse and we would be sharing a bed. I grumbled at my thoughts, crossing my arms over my chest; something Noah picked up on with a raised brow.

“Everything alright?”

“No,” I scoffed while facing him in the small elevator. “Everything is not alright. I have to get married to you without a choice, I have to share a bed with you, and not to mention, you just told me I have to work in your tattoo shop. In a matter of minutes, my entire life changed!”

My screechy voice echoed in the small confines of the elevator and Noah leaned against the back wall with a smirk on his face.

“You think this is funny?” I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest. “My free will is gone and you’re laughing.”

Suddenly, his face sobered as he stood tall, with dark eyes staring down at me through even darker tendrils of hair.

“Let me make one thing clear, Scar. You have free will. You can come and go as you please but need to return. Just because we’re going to be married that doesn't mean you’re signing your life away.”

I blinked, mouth agape. “Scar?”

“I like it,” Noah shrugged as if he really didn’t see the problem with shortening my name.

“And if I don’t like it?” I still had my arms crossed but now I had my left hip popped out, showcasing the attitude I’ve had since birth.

Something flashed in his eyes just as the elevator doors behind me opened.

“Too bad, it stays,” he muttered before grabbing my bags and walking past me.

Turning slowly on my heels, I noticed that the elevator opened to a vast darkness, Noah’s footsteps echoing. I didn’t move, not even when he turned on the bright lights showcasing his large penthouse.

Our large penthouse, I corrected myself.

Slowly stepping off the elevator, I peered around my new surroundings. Currently, I was standing in the foyer, and to my left was a long hallway that I assumed led to the bedrooms. To my right was a wall that had two large bookcases built into it. I quickly made a mental note to browse Noah’s large collection and then took a few tentative steps into the open space before me.

It was an open concept of a kitchen and living room combo. To the left was the kitchen and I sucked in a breath at the gorgeous design. Black cabinets with gold fixtures. A kitchen island in the middle big enough to fit two Thanksgiving dinner spreads. I noticed that he didn’t have a dining room table, only eight stools that lined the kitchen island.

The living room was simple with a large forest green sectional couch, a fireplace, and a large television above it. Although it was still nicely decorated with fine things, there was still an empty feeling that crept over my bones.

“I find it hard to believe that this huge place only has one bedroom,” I said with my hands on my hips.

Noah, who was leaning his lower half onto the back of the couch with his arms over his chest, gave me a sly smirk.

“I never said there was only one bedroom.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “So then why do I have to share a bed with you?”

He pushed himself up so he could look down at me. “There are three rooms. Besides our bedroom, one is my office, and the other is locked up. No one goes in there.”

“Are you hiding dead bodies in there?” I teased with a raised brow.

“No, that's what the room underneath the shop is for,” Noah deadpanned.

My lips parted, mimicking a fish, as the words died on my tongue. I knew given his line of work that Noah undoubtedly killed people. The rumors around town told me. I did my best to not be involved in my father's and uncle's nefarious dealings, but every so often my uncle would bring me in during one of their meetings, much to my father's dismay. My uncle thought I needed to know the inner workings of the Irish mob since I would take over one day. While my father didn’t want that for me. He wanted me to stay in the family home and continue to turn a blind eye to everything.

In the meetings I was brought in on, many of the men who worked under the McManus twins would tell them everything they knew about OMNS; which wasn’t a lot. Noah had done a fantastic job of keeping his dealings quiet, that was until recently when his friend Vincent showed up on his doorstep dead. After that, Noah made it his mission to find out who killed him by kidnapping my family's level drug dealers for information. None gave anything up until recently when Barry somehow managed to get OMNS a meeting with my family. If it wasn’t for that kid, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

I never fucking liked that kid.

Every time Noah’s name was brought up in those meetings, my stomach would flutter and my heart would hammer hard in my chest; exactly like in high school. From the moment my eyes landed on him freshman year, I knew that would sink his teeth in. We never ran in the same circles but when they did cross, I was rudely reminded by my mother of the reason why during graduation when she caught me staring at Noah from across the gym.

“Saorsie, stop ogling that boy. The Sebastian men are only trouble, he will hurt you the first chance he gets.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t ogling him, mom.”

She grasped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “I’m serious, stay away from Noah Sebastian. You’re too good for him, he would only lower your stature.”

I took those words my mom said to heart because I knew Noah didn’t feel the same. The only time he ever looked at me was with distaste because of our family's long-standing history. The McManus and Sebastian rivalry would be told in the history books one day but now it seemed as if the rivalry had ended with or upcoming unions.

To keep the peace.

“So the wedding.”

My eyes snapped up from admiring Noah’s long legs. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I figured you’d want to plan it since you didn’t get a say in the groom,” he jeered while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

“Honestly, I’d be fine going to the courthouse and signing the needed paperwork. Get this over with,” I admitted.

This made Noah’s usual stone face falter, his eyes softening. “If that’s what you want, Scar. I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Clearing my throat, I stood up straighter after grabbing my bags. “Can you show me to our room? I’d like to unpack and go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah-,” Noah’s words were cut off by his phone ringing which he pulled out of his pants pocket.

His brows furrowed at the caller's I.D and when I peaked down at it, my heart dropped into my stomach.

“Who’s Lana?” I asked, my voice thick with jealousy.

His eyes flicked up from underneath his long lashes, a foxy smile playing on his lips.

Those lips that I’d been craving to taste ever since freshman year.

“She’s my assistant,” Noah informed.

“Does your assistant always text you this late?”

He brushed a loose strand of my fiery red hair behind my ear and chuckled. “Nothing is going on between Lana and I. She’s dating one of the artists in my shop. She was letting me know that my morning meeting was canceled.”

My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and I suddenly threw a thumb over my shoulder. “I think I’m going to get my stuff unpacked and head to bed.”

“Come on, I’ll show you-.”

Suddenly the elevator to his penthouse made a loud ding before the doors opened, revealing a man I didn’t recognize.

Noah, who was still towering over me, snapped his head up and his shoulders fell.

“Jesse? What’s going on?”

The man, Jesse, brushed back the curls from his face and sighed. “We need you at Limits. There’s a problem.”

My eyes bounced between the two men. “Limits?”

Noah ran a hand over the few hairs that peppered his jawline. “My nightclub.”

“I didn’t know you owned a nightclub,” I said.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Scar,” he shrugged with an indifferent look in his eyes before glancing back to Jesse. “Can you handle it? It’s why I made you the manager so you can deal with these kinds of things when I’m not there.”

Jesse hesitated for a long beat, his gaze flicking to me before settling on Noah. “You know I usually do, Noah. But there’s someone that is refusing to leave unless they talk to you.”

“Have Ash force them out,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes shut.

“It’s Vincent’s sister. She wants an update.”

His body went rigid, hands dropping to his sides, and I felt my heart drop slightly at that name.

Vincent.

Noah’s friend who was murdered.

“You should go,” I spoke softly after a few long moments of silence.

Eventually, Noah nodded and he caught the jacket Jesse threw him mid-air, slipping it over his thick shoulders.

“I won’t be long, I promise,” he assured me.

Suddenly, all of the anger I felt about my situation faded, knowing that there was someone somewhere else dealing with something worse; a murdered brother with no answers.

“I’ll be fine,” I gave him a small nod.

“Bedroom is the last door on the left. Make yourself at home.”

Noah and Jesse were gone in a flash, leaving me alone in the quiet penthouse. It was an eerie silence, the one that made your ears ring, and I let out a long steady breath. Even though this was my home now, it didn’t feel like it. Everything here felt like Noah, which wasn’t a bad thing. His scent lingered in the air and it brought a faint smile on my lips.

Snap out of it, Scarlett! Noah doesn't think of you that way.

My brain practically screamed at me and with a shake of my head, I gathered up my bags to find the last door on the left. My eyes darted into the open door of Noah’s office and briefly could see a large black desk, a computer set up that seemed to fit a gamer, and red neon lights.

I came to a halt in front of the closed door and curiosity peaked in my mind so I tried the door knob.

Locked.

“What the hell are you hiding, Noah,” I muttered to myself before finally reaching the last door on the left.

Now there was resistance filling my veins, making me unable to cross the threshold into the bedroom. While I was interested in seeing how Noah had decorated the bedroom, I was nervous because it would mean that everything was about to become real.

The second I stepped into that room and unpacked my things, this marriage was going to happen.

Before I could make my final decision on whether to run or stay, my phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Noah Sebastian: Hi, it’s Noah. I wanted to let you know that I cleared out some space in the closet and the bathroom for your things. I mean it when I said make yourself at home, Scar. What’s mine is yours.

I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my lips while I replied.

Me: I know it’s you, Noah. I’ve had your number saved since high school.

Before I could pocket my phone, a new text came through.

Noah Sebastian: You had it saved? I thought for sure my number would have been blocked.

Me: Tell me what’s in the locked room and I won’t consider blocking your number.

Noah Sebastian: Not a chance, Scar.

Rolling my eyes, I pocketed my phone and gathered up all my courage with a deep breath before walking into the large bedroom.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Who needs this much space for one person?”

The king size bed was directly in the middle of the room, up against a wall painted black. On either side of the bed were end tables, each with their own lamp. There were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle and now, with the late evening, it casted the room in a glow of moonlight.

There was a fireplace and what I thought was a picture above turned out to be one of those televisions that you were able to use like a picture frame. It was of some abstract colors, nothing that seemed to make sense to the human eye.

The hardwood floors creaked as I walked farther into the bedroom, noticing that there were clear walls where the fireplace was, showing the bathroom on the other side. I could see straight into the shower and bathtub from my spot in the bedroom.

On the other end of the room was a little sitting corner, made up of a long leather couch and two chairs.

The walk in closet was behind the couch and when I stepped inside, I let out a choked gasp.

“This closet is bigger than my bedroom at home,” I shook my head in disbelief.

Noah was true to his word.

There was more than half of the closet space empty, his clothes and shoes only taking up a small section of the closet.

With a sigh, I went about unpacking all of my things, spending a few hours arranging my clothes by types of shirts and pants. Shoes by heels or flats. Jewelry by necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

Rings.

Glancing down at my bare left hand, I tried to envision how it would look with a wedding ring and I couldn’t help but shudder. Everything was happening so fast and I didn’t even get the chance to let the news settle in yet that this whole arrangement was made without my consent.

Carrying my bag full of toiletries over to the even larger bathroom, I made a mental note to take a very long soak in the deep jacuzzi bathtub as I went about putting everything in its place. There were two sinks and with Noah already taking over the one on the left, I chose the one on the right.

As I was about to leave the bathroom, I caught sight of Noah’s cologne and pursed my lips.

Sauvage by Dior.

After spraying a quick spritz on my sweater, I went back into the closet to put away my suitcases. There was a small area in the far back that took a few finessing to make them fit but it caused something to fall off of a shelf next to me.

Miracle High School. 2013-2014.

It was Noah’s highschool yearbook.

“I haven’t seen one of these in so long,” I said while kneeling on the floor of the closet, opening the book in my lap.

Familiar faces stared back at me as I slowly flipped through it but came to a stop at one picture.

Me.

I was with my old group of friends, most of whom I didn’t talk to anymore, and the smile on my face was so fake. I thought I was happy back then, the facade I put on tricked even me. But after I graduated, I realized how much of a liar I had been. I had to put on this show of the privileged rich girl to appease my mother when in fact, I hated who I was. I despised being in the popular group and desperately wanted to hang out with the artsy kids because that's where I felt my heart deserved to be.

Just as I was about to flip the page, something else caught my eye; a written note next to my picture.

One look at your eyes and I cave in. One taste of the life now I crave it. So give me something beautiful. So give me something else. I need another miracle. I really need some help, I need a miracle.

I frowned, feeling my heart sink to the depths of my stomach, and looked for the picture on the next page.

Noah Sebastian.

Back in highschool, his hair was longer, down to the middle of his back. He did have tattoos, not as many as he did now, but the snake and apple tattoo on his neck poked out from the collar of his shirt. It was customary that all seniors took professional pictures for their yearbook photos but that wasn’t who Noah was.

His senior picture was one of him sitting in a computer chair with a gaming headset on and those adorable gold round glasses while throwing up the peace sign; showcasing those hand tattoos I spent countless hours staring at during our history class together.

Slowly closing the book, I set it back in its place on the highest self before leaving the closet. With a quick glance at my phone, I noticed it was nearing nine in the evening and even though I was exhausted, my stomach growling reminded me that I skipped dinner earlier.

Once back in the large kitchen, I found the remote for the television and turned it on. I had to flip through the channels until finally landing on The Crow and then went about searching the cabinets and fridge for food.

“Does this man not eat?” I groaned when I saw how bare everything was.

Me: You have nothing to eat in this big ass penthouse.

I expected Noah not to text back right away, figuring he was busy dealing with what was happening over at Limits, so when my phone buzzed a few seconds after I sent the message, my heart fluttered.

Noah Sebastian: What are you in the mood for? Indian? Italian? Greek?

You.

Shaking the thought from my head, I typed out my reply.

Me: I’ll just run out and pick something up.

Before I could even lock my phone, Noah’s response appeared on screen.

Noah Sebastian: The Concrete Jungle is not safe at night. Please stay inside. I’ll order whatever you want. My treat.

Pursing my lips, I glanced up to the window, seeing the tall buildings outside, and thought about it for a moment. The Concrete Jungle was Noah’s domain, he created it. But if he said it was dangerous in the dark, I had to believe him.

Me: Greek. One gyro. Hold the veggies. Extra feta cheese and tzatziki sauce.

Me: Large fries and a Dr. Pepper.

Me: We also can’t live off of fast food every day. How can I cook something with one cracked egg, baking soda, and stale ass bread?

While I waited for his reply, I decided to snoop around the penthouse. Off of the kitchen was his laundry room and for a moment, I thought about switching his loads but decided that I should leave it. A guy like him had someone come clean and do his laundry. Just as I was about to take a shower, my phone went off from its spot on the bathroom counter.

Noah Sebastian: I’ve made more with less. But we can go shopping tomorrow, you can get whatever you like.

I thought about replying with a witty remark but knowing that he was probably dealing with something deep at Limits, I decided against it.

Me: You’re going to regret saying that.

Noah Sebastian: So far, when it comes to you I haven’t regretted anything.

My heart jumped in my throat as I read those words a few times over and with a sigh, I locked my phone. I didn’t bother asking him when he would get back because I had a feeling whatever was happening, it wasn’t something that was considered a quick chat.

By the time I was dressed in my pajamas, there was a loud buzzing coming from the elevator of the penthouse. For some reason, there was a fear that filled me from being here alone and not knowing who was slowly rising up the elevator.

Me: Were you expecting company? I think someone rang the buzzer for the elevator.

My bare feet padded down the long hallway and once I stood in front of the elevator, my heart began to beat wildly. I wasn’t exactly dressed for company, wearing a pair of white cotton shorts and a loose tank top.

Noah Sebastian: It’s your food, Scar.

Oh.

Me: Oh, right.

I wasn’t sure why I was so on edge about the possibility of someone coming into Noah’s penthouse without me knowing. Maybe it was because no one knew about our arrangement so it could have been a late night fuck buddy? Maybe it was because Noah was one of the most feared mafia bosses and ruled the Concrete Jungle so someone was coming to get their revenge.

Noah Sebastian: No one can come upstairs without the code. The delivery driver left your food with Gary, the doorman. He’s been working at OMNS Legacy Villas for years and he’s the only one with the code. You can trust him.

I snorted at that word; trust. There were only two people in my life I could trust and they sold me off for a peace treaty.

Me: Trust isn’t a word that’s in my vocabulary.

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a paper bag in the middle of it. With a quick swipe, the scent of Greek food tickled my nostrils and my stomach grumbled to life. I spread everything out on the large kitchen island and went about eating in silence while watching the movie. It wasn’t until I noticed the time on the large clock on the far end of the wall that it was almost eleven in the evening and without a new text from Noah, I thought about texting him but figured I’d be bothering him.

Once I cleaned up my mess from dinner, I stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the Concrete Jungle. Bright lights bathed over the dirty streets, littered with not only trash but crime as well. On the far end of the corner, I watched as a drug deal went down followed by an attempt at a carjacking. With the angle of how high up the penthouse was, I could see down to Under The Right Lights Tattoo; closed up for the night.

“How did I go from studying animal biology to working in a tattoo shop?” I grumbled to myself while pushing off of the windows.

“Talking to yourself?”

Whirling around, I saw Noah standing in the middle of the living room with his hair a disheveled mess and blood splatter over his shirt. I blinked rapidly, trying to assess the situation in front of me.

“I-,” I pointed to the elevator. “I didn't hear you come up.”

Noah had his hands hiding in the pockets of his black dress slacks and I couldn’t help but picture how they were covered in blood.

“I took the back staircase,” he shrugged before gliding over to the kitchen and popping a few of my leftover fries in his mouth.

I shifted on my feet, watching how unbothered he was.

“You have a back staircase?”

Noah’s eyes flashed to me. “We have a back staircase for times like this. I can’t exactly walk through the lobby looking like this.”

“Right,” I pursed my lips while nodding.

A weird silence fell between us, I was unsure what to do or say, so instead I continued to stand there watching him as he watched me with his nostrils flaring.

“Why do I smell my cologne?”

With a red hue covering my pale skin tone, I cleared my throat. “How did it go at Limits? Get everything sorted out?”

Something flashed in the darkness of his eyes as they flicked over my body. “Are you unpacked?”

“No, we’re not doing that,” I said while stepping closer to the kitchen island so I could stand across from him.

It created a barrier between us.

“Do what?” Noah asked while leaning his long arms over the edge of it.

I did my best not to gawk at his muscles as they rippled and the way the tattoos just seemed to fit him.

“If we’re going to be married, you’re not going to hide anything from me. I grew up in this life, Noah. You don’t need to keep me away from it.”

A sly smile spread to his lips. “We are getting married, Scar. There’s no if.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not asking to be a leader next to you but all I want is honesty.”

Those almond eyes watched me for another long beat before he gave a curt nod.

“Tonight went south; fast.”

I pulled out a stool to take a seat, resting my elbows on the counter. “Were you able to give Vincent’s sister any answers?”

“No,” Noah pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “When I told her the only information I have is that someone in the Irish mafia killed him, she wouldn’t listen. She’s insistent that it’s the Italians.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

I leaned back into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest which made my breasts perk up over the top of my shirt; something Noah tracked intently with his eyes.

“The Italians haven't stepped foot in your or my territory in almost a decade. They know it would start a war,” I explained.

“You seem to know a lot,” he raised a brow, still standing across from me.

“While my father did his best to keep me out of it, my uncle constantly brought me into meetings. He wanted me to take over when they’re gone,” I said.

“Well, Vincent’s sister surprised all of us when she told us she had some Italian tied up in her trunk,” Noah grabbed water from the fridge, popping it open with an attractive ease.

My eyes doubled. “How did she manage that?”

“No fucking idea. This guy had no ties to the mob, nothing. So I had to pay him a lot of money to keep quiet,” Noah said with a grimace on his face.

“Where did the blood come from?” I pointed to his shirt.

That earned a slight chuckle from him. “Fucker had a nose bleed when I tried to scare him off. All over my good shirt.”

Noah’s words prompted him to slip into the laundry room off the kitchen and return with a basket full of his clothes. As he spread them out on the large counter, I watched in surprise when he began folding them.

“Is it the housekeepers' day off tomorrow?” I joked.

“No housekeeper. I do all the cleaning and cooking,” he informed me.

Well don’t I feel like a judgemental asshole.

Drumming my fingers along the marble, I motioned to the bedroom. “I’m going to head to bed, since we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Noah paused the folding so he could gaze up at me through his long lashes.

“Noon at the courthouse. Are you fine with going out to Limits for a small celebration? The guys were adamant on it.”

I shrugged while hopping off the stool. “That’s fine, I guess. Gives me a reason to get all dolled up.

“I’m going to finish up the laundry then go into the shower. I promise I’ll be quiet,” Noah smiled.

My heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of it so all I did was nod before retreating down the long hallway towards the bedroom.

Even though it was a comfortable bed, I found it hard to sink into the black sheets because of the new place. Any time I slept away from home, it was a restless night. My brain couldn’t calm down and tell myself that I was safe. So I lay there with the forest green blanket pulled to my chin and eyes screwed shut hoping it would help the sleep take me.

Noah’s quiet footsteps echoed on the hardwood as he stalked inside of the bedroom. I watched as he disappeared into the closet and reemerged with a pair of pajama pants. The confidence that radiated off of him as he stepped inside the bathroom was one that made anyone envious. Due to the window that peered into the bathroom, I could see Noah beginning to strip out of his clothes, oh so slowly as if he knew I was watching him. He didn’t bother to turn on the bathroom light, the moonlight breaking through the windows casting him in an aura made for the Gods.

I sucked in a breath when he stepped into the large shower, his large back and perk ass on display for my eyes to drink in. The large Jesus portrait tattoo that lined the entirety of his back glistened as the water droplets fell down to the swell of his ass.

“A Thiarna cuidigh liom,” I groaned while dragging a hand down my face.

I was supposed to be upset with this arrangement and I probably would have been if my future groom wasn’t built the way Noah Sebastian was.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve had a huge crush on him since freshman year.

Grumbling at the voice in my head, I forced myself to face the other way in bed in an attempt to get some sleep. While floating in and out of consciousness, I swore I heard the softest melody emanating from the walls of the bedroom. It wrapped around me like a blanket, cradling me with endless comfort, and I felt every worry slip through my fingertips. The weight shifted slightly to pull me in closer but did nothing to disturb the comfort.

NOAH

My knee bounced with so much agitation, I feared it shook the entire penthouse. I sat in my computer chair with my fingers steepeled underneath my chin, memories of earlier replaying in my mind on a constant fucking loop.

The slight hesitation in the ballpoint of the pen before she signed her name on the marriage certificate.

I knew Scarlett wasn’t too fond of this arrangement but there was a part of me that wasn’t expecting the hesitation, especially after last night.

“Scar?” I asked, just above a whisper.

Her sleeping form held the pillow close to her chest but I frowned, not getting into bed yet. She was asleep in my spot. I chewed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not to wake her because I slept in that spot every single night for the last eight years of living in this penthouse.

But standing there at the end of my bed, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath and the soft snores emanating from her plump lips made everything I’d formally known change.

I slipped into bed behind her with every intention of lying opposite of her but almost immediately, her hand found my bicep in a soft embrace and I vowed not to move at all that night. It was a simple touch but enough to make my heart race.

It was foolish to think that it meant something. Scarlett didn’t feel the same, she’d made it clear that she was here against her will. The first chance she had, she would take it to run off with someone more qualified for her love. It didn’t matter for me to try because I’d never been worthy of Saiorse Scarlett McManus.

Saiorse Scarlett McManus-Sebastian.

I glanced down to my left hand, the black band a sight I was still getting used to. I wore rings all the time, just never on that finger. While she had been getting ready for tonight, I had Matt run to the best jewelry store in the Concrete Jungle to pick up the sets of rings I had put a rush order on. My ring wasn’t anything special, and to be honest neither was Scar’s. Due to the short time frame, I had to make due with what I could. A simple gold band with a small marquise diamond. I knew it wasn’t her style but for now, until I could get her something better later on, this would be fine.

The small velvet box weighed heavy in the pocket of my pants and I knew if I didn’t give it to her soon, it would burn a hole.

A soft knock at my office door pulled me from my thoughts and when I peered over the computer at who stood in the doorway, my heart felt heavy in my chest. Scar stood there with her hands behind her back, almost shy as I drank in her appearance.

Her red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing the sharpness of her cheekbones.

Her make up was minimal but dark enough to make her green iris shine bright.

The dress she wore managed to hug her figure perfectly. It was a deep olive color that stood out against the paleness of her freckles skin and cut low enough at her breasts that it didn’t leave too much to the imagination but somehow covered her modestly. My gaze traveled up the slit on the dress where her toned legs poked through.

“Noah?”

I snapped my eyes up to her face, a low hum rumbling in my chest. “Yea?”

“Is this alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I frowned.

Scar shrugged and in that moment, I could tell by the pain she held behind her smile that she was struggling with something internally.

“It’s stupid,” she sighed, ready to leave the room until I grabbed her hand.

“Hey,” my voice was soft. “Nothing you say is stupid, alright?”

Those emerald eyes bounced between mine. “With Cory, he didn’t like me wearing things like this.”

The ex.

“You can wear whatever you’re comfortable with,” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, electricity shooting through my system before reluctantly dropping it.

Scar cleared her throat before rubbing her palms on the side of her silk dress and motioning to me. “Ready to go?”

I peered down to my black pants and plain black shirt, suddenly self conscious I wasn’t dressed up enough for her.

“I can change if it’s not-.”

“No!” She said quickly before catching herself. “You look good.”

A sly smirk came to my lips and with this sudden surge of confidence I pulled out the velvet box from my pocket and heard Scar suck in a breath. The prior nerves were back and I couldn’t stop the way my hands shook as I opened it.

“It’s not much,” I sighed. “Given I had less than twenty four hours to get you a ring, this was the best I could do.”

Scar didn’t say anything as her bright eyes watched me slip the ring on her left hand.

It may have been small but it fit her like a glove.

“It’s fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a quick smile. “I’m not into gaudy and unnecessarily huge rings.”

We stood there in the ever growing silence of my office, the roaring flames from the fireplace the only thing that eased my worries. The orange hues of the fire casted Scar in a golden halo, the sight of the angel in front of me enough to still my heart.

Angel.

“An-.”

“Noah!”

Both mine and Scar’s head snapped over to the hallway right outside the door to my office, seeing Matt standing there.

“Everything alright?” I asked, knowing the panicked look in his eyes.

They shifted to Scar’s where they lingered for a moment too long.

“Matt,” I called his name softly but with enough force; a warning.

“Sorry,” he shifted on his feet. “There’s an issue downstairs in the shop. A client that won’t leave.”

My shoulders fell with an exaggerated groan. “Can’t you handle it?

He rolled his eyes, almost insulted that I doubted his ability. “You know I have no problem with that but they’re not here for us.”

My brow peaked. “Then who are they here for?”

Matt’s eyes darted to Scar who pointed at herself, dumbfounded. “Me?”

“It’s your dad and Uncle. They’re here with some asshat named Cory, who is the one refusing to leave.”

The all too familiar feeling of anger and jealousy festered low in my gut at hearing not only where her father and uncle downstairs in my shop, but so was the asshole ex.

“What are they doing here?” I asked her, trying hard to keep my voice calm.

She shrugged. “I have no idea! I talked to my dad earlier and told him that the papers were signed. He said congratulations and he’ll send a gift at some point.”

Rubbing a hand on my jaw, I gave a curt nod urging Matt to lead the way. The heels of Sacr’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed behind me. The ride down the elevator was quiet, filled with my deep and even breathing. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed a few things.

Matt’s eyes darted over to Scar, lingering on the side of her face.

Scar played with the new ring on her finger while she muttered something to herself. Something plagued her mind, it was clear in the way her shoulders were slumped and something continued to twitch in her cheek.

“Did you want me to handle him?” I asked once the elevator stopped at my shop.

Her head tilted up to me, my question lingering in her mind. I found myself getting lost in the greens of her eyes, swimming in the pool of the gold specks in them.

“No. It’s probably better I do,” she sighed.

When the elevator doors opened revealing the closed tattoo shop, I extended an arm to let her walk ahead. We walked down the back hallway, passing my office, the gym, and bathrooms before the sight of all of the closed down booths appeared. On the other side of the front counter stood the McManus brothers and Cory, who was red in the face due to screaming about something.

“She was mine!”

“Calm down, son,” Conner McManus lit a cigarette, puffing out the smoke.

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said with a stern tone.

His dark eyes snapped over to me before tossing down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

“Cory, what are you doing here?” Scar asked after her father left a soft kiss to the side of her head in greeting.

“Your dad told me you’re married?”

I took a deep breath, trying to let Scar handle this on her own, but both Matt and I flanked behind her; just in case.

The McManus brothers shared a look before Conner threw a thumb over his shoulder. “He showed up at our place drunk rambling about wanting to see Saorise so we brought him here. He’s your problem now.”

“Congratulations on your nuptials. Let’s hope for a time of peace,” Murphy reminded, giving a small smile to his daughter.

With a nod, I dismissed them from my shop and soon it was Cory alone with the three of us.

“I told you I was to be married off,” Scar’s brows furrowed. “I called you earlier this week to tell you and your exact words were,"What do you want me to do about it?””

Cory chuckled darkly. “I thought you were fucking with me to get back at me for Tory.”

She flinched. “Tory? What does Tory have to do with anything?”

Cory held a bottle of vodka loosely between his fingers before bringing it to his lips, downing the rest of it in one go.

“Because I fucked her,” he replied while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I took a large step towards him, not being able to hold back my anger any longer, but Scar’s soft gasp halted me.

“Yo-You what?”

Cory snorted when he took in the look of hurt on her face. “I mean, it wasn’t anything serious. Just a good fuck, something to pass the time while you were in school.”

My hands shook at my sides, something Matt noticed because he rested a hand on my shoulder.

“She wants to handle it,” he uttered in my ear, reminding me.

I snapped my eyes over to him but it did nothing to deter the hand on my shoulder. The gun in the holster of my pants began to get heavy. I kept a hard gaze over Scar’s head, directly at Cory, who seemed unphased by the scene he was beginning to create.

“You fucked Tory?”

Scar’s voice and face were unreadable which caused me great panic. I wasn’t sure how she would react or if this news even bothered her. I knew they didn’t date long and according to my intel it didn’t seem to mean much. But even so, finding out you’ve been cheated on during your relationship hurts.

Cory snickered at the distressed look on Scar’s face. “You have no right to act like this, Saorise. You married another man.”

Her eyes flicked over to me but mine never left his face, watching him through the thin slits.

“I didn’t have a choice! My father and Uncle made me. If I did have a choice, I would have moved far away from here years ago,” she sneered.

My heart sank low and my shoulders fell slightly when I gazed down at her. Deep down, I knew she still wasn’t happy about our situation but to hear her continue repeating it cut deep. It was like I was in highschool all over again, fawning over the popular girl who didn’t bat an eye.

“I was going to marry you, Saorise. I had a ring picked out,” the bottle slipped from Cory’s fingers and clattered to the ground at our feet; the leftover alcohol splashing on my shoes.

I grumbled in displeasure.

“Was that before or after you fucked Tory?” Scar took a step towards him.

“Scar,” I warned.

“Scar? What the fuck kind of name is that? Her name is Saoirse,” Cory laid a hand on my shoulder, trying to push me.

Ultimately failing as I barely moved. My veins were filled with hurt from her constant reminders that she didn’t want to be married to me but now, I was filled with sheer anger.

“We call her Scar,” I informed him through gritted teeth.

Cory rolled his eyes. “You guys are all fucked up. I’ve heard the rumors about OMNS. You think you can keep Saoirse safe from that?”

Matt took a large step toward him but was halted with my hand to his chest, both of us sharing a look; one that we’ve shared many times before.

“Take Scar upstairs,” my voice was low and even.

Some would say it even scared them.

Matt gave a curt nod and gently grabbed her elbow but she ripped it from his grasp, those green eyes shooting daggers into me.

“Excuse me? What happened to me handling it?”

I ignored her, letting my stubborn side win, and motioned towards Cory all while keeping my hands in my pockets. “You can leave through the same door you stepped through.”

“Fuck you!” He spat, now pushing me in my chest with both hands, causing me to stumble slightly. “Saoirse is mine! You can’t just fucking take her because you signed some bullshit paper agreement with her father.”

My left brow raised. “Last time I checked, a marriage certificate isn’t a bull shit paper agreement.”

“Noah!” Scar stepped in front of me, blocking my path to Cory. “I told you I can handle this myself.”

“Then why is he still here? Did you invite him?” I asked, eyes flicking down to her and doing my best to keep my composure.

“Fuck off!” She stomped her foot, showing how angry she was getting.

I had to admit, it was kind of cute seeing her bratty side come out.

“You said it yourself you won’t dictate what I do in this marriage. I am my own person.”

The way she said marriage caused something to stir low in my gut and I knew it wasn’t anything good. That all too familiar feeling of my hands shaking in my pockets and my heart beat wildly in my chest usually ended in one way.

Death.

Matt knew this. He’d been by my side since the early days and he’d seen first hand what happened to the people that were on the receiving end of it.

“Alright, time to go,” Matt said before picking up Scar, tossing her over his shoulder.

“You mother fucker! Put me down!” She thrashed in his arm, her no match for his strength.

As her screams faded down the hall towards the elevator, I looked over my shoulder to call back to them.

“Keep it up, Scar. Matt has permission to smack that pretty little ass.”

They stood in the middle of the elevator, her still thrashing about on his shoulder, so Matt gave a wicked smirk with a wink just before the doors shut.

“It’s not even worth it, man. Her holes aren’t even that fuckable.”

My eye snapped back to Cory, who was slightly swaying on his feet, and now one hand rested behind my back to graze over the handle of my gun. My voice wavered only slightly, going undetected by the drunk man in front of me.

“What did you just say?”

He hiccuped, the vodka now settling in his bloodstream. “Her cunt isn’t that great. She just lies there like a board. You’re better off fucking a pillow.”

I swallowed thickly with a finger now on the trigger. All I could see was red.

Blood.

His blood staining the floor of the underground and hearing his pleas of sorrow as I dragged the knife across the flabby flesh of his throat.

“You should have come to me to talk about marrying her!” He poked a weak finger to my chest. “She’s mine.”

I blinked for a long moment, letting out an even longer deep breath in the exact exercises my therapist taught me. I couldn’t do anything up here due to the cameras I had littered throughout so instead, I cleared my throat while extending a hand behind me.

“We’ll, why don’t we step into my office to work out a deal,” I suggested with a playful smirk.

Cory smiled with triumph and straightened out his polo. “The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

The knife hidden in my sock itched with the need to slice flesh.

SCAR

“You mother fucker!” I pounded on Matt’s broad back as we rode the elevator back up to the penthouse.

“Try all you want, Saoirse. But did you forget Noah’s warning?” He teased me.

My face was directly in sight with his round ass and with a playful smirk, I pinched it, causing him to yelp out and dropping me to my feet.

“Did you just pinch my ass?” He asked dumbfounded while rubbing the spot I pinched.

I shrugged. “It was right in front of my face. I can't help it if you've got a nice ass.”

His face flinched, not expecting my boldness. “Noah definitely has his hands full with you.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave him my back to finish the ride up in silence. I could feel him behind me, eyes burning over my entire body, and my tough resolve began to slowly slip away. The day had gone straight to hell the second I woke up and found myself wrapped in Noah’s warm embrace. I spent an excruciating long moment tracing over the tattoos on his chest with my eyes, burning them into memory.

Ever since I watched him in the shower last night, I felt this undeniable burn between my legs that needed to be touched, licked, bite, and fucked. Not even the moment in the shower this afternoon while Noah was running a few errands before our courthouse appointment extinguished this burn.

When I cried out his name as my orgasm engulfed me, it made the flames burn higher.

“You seem on edge,” Matt’s deep voice pulled me from thoughts of Noah naked.

“I wonder why,” I grumbled under my breath.

He chuckled, the sound bringing an ease to the tension around us.

“Noah will be fine,” he assured me.

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I admitted while stepping off the elevator when it opened to the penthouse.

Turning on my heels, I noticed Matt still standing in the elevator, unmoving.

“Are you not going to come inside and watch me?” I teased.

His eyes raked over me from underneath his hat, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

“Tempting. But I’ve got other things to do.”

I didn’t have time to think of what that other thing was before the doors shut, leaving me alone in the large penthouse. I continued to grumble obscenities under my breath as I stalked towards the bedroom, ready to change into a pair of sweats and spending the rest of this awful day on the couch reading a book.

And not think of your husband’s ass in the shower.

Groaning at the little voice in my head, I threw on a pair of sweats, not bothering to take my makeup off, and dragged my feet down the long hallway again to the large bookshelves that were right next to the elevator. Noah had a large collection, might as well help myself to one or two.

Black fingernails skimmed over the spines of the large collection, humming a soft tune to myself, until one caught my eye.

A New World.

When I went to pull it out, excited to read my favorite book, it wouldn’t budge. Instead, the bookshelf began to creak and groan before slowly opening into the wall.

“No fucking way,” I scoffed. “He would have a secret door that leads to a dark staircase.”

I thought about it for a moment; go down the stairs to see where it led or play dumb to the fact that I ever saw it. But suddenly, something from yesterday popped in my brain.

“I took the back staircase.”

Noah made it a point to say that he takes this staircase when he’s unable to walk through the lobby of the penthouse. Meaning wherever his staircase led, it was meant to be hidden.

“Fuck it,” I muttered with a shrug before taking the stairs, one step at a time.

It was lit with a muted yellow glow so I had a hand on the wall to guide me in case I were to tumble down. With each tentative step, voices grew closer and closer until I heard what sounded like flesh on flesh and then pained cries.

When my footsteps halted at the bottom of the staircase, I felt my heart jump into my throat and stomach fall out of my ass with the sight in front of me.

“What the fuck!”

NOAH

“Wait please!”

Ignoring the pathetic cries falling from Cory’s mouth, I sunk the knife deeper into the already gaping wound in his thigh, twisting and turning it in all different directions. The sound of blood squelching brought a sinister smile to my face as I watched the sheer pain on his face. Tendrils of my dark hair fell into my eyes but I didn’t dare brush them away.

“You have a lot of nerve coming into my shop and talking about my wife that way,” I said.

Cory did his best to thrash in the chair he was tied up in but ultimately failed. “Fuck you!”

I cocked my head to the side, still having a tight grip on the knife in his thigh. I felt a presence behind me as I was crouched at the knees, knowing Matt was also watching with his own sinister smirk. I’d done a number on Cory already, his face barely recognizable from the blood that covered it and not only did he have a wound in his thigh, his arms and chest were littered with small yet painful slices from my blade.

“I’m done with him,” I said while slowly rising to full height, aged knees popping in and out of place.

Matt handed me a small handgun from one of my large collections and when I cocked it, Cory’s eyes went white as a ghost.

“Wait!” He choked on his own blood. “I have information!”

The grip on my gun never faltered but I did raise a brow at him. “What could you possibly know that would interest me?”

Deep, uneven breaths fell from Cory’s lips and I knew that I only had a short window with him before he succumbed to the wounds; more importantly, the one on his side. Matt made a comment of how deep I went with the knife but all I saw was red, Cory’s comments from earlier urging the knife deeper.

“The only hole I want is her mouth. It’s all she’s good for.”

“Its-,” he coughed up blood, spewing it all over himself and at the ground near my shoes. “About Saoirse’s mom. Her death.”

That made my gun falter a bit but I kept my tough resolve apparent. “Her mom died years ago. Why do you think I would spare your life when it was already a solved case?”

Underneath the blood that pooled from Corey’s mouth was a sinister smirk as he leaned his head back.

“That’s what they want you to think.”

Matt, who had slowly slipped behind Cory, and I shared a look before he asked the next question.

“Who’s they?” Matt wondered.

Cory did his best to shrug due to being tied up. “The ones who did it.”

I let out an agitated groan before dropping the gun onto the metal table next to me, the noise caused Cory to jump. It had been an extremely long day and the last thing I wanted to do was stand here while he ran us in circles with this so-called information. There were many things I would much rather be doing.

My wife.

Shaking the thought from my head, I stalked over towards the far end of the underground to where I held all of my variety of tools; immediately reaching for the pair of rusty pliers.

Twirling the tool in my hands, I noticed a look of fear flash in Cory’s eyes just before I flicked my own towards Matt, giving him a silent order. He wrenched Cory’s head back by the roots of his hair, keeping him in place, gloved fingers smearing his own blood all throughout.

It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to start wearing gloves during these kinds of meetings. Not only for the fear of leaving fingerprints behind but because blood was a bitch to wash off.

“Cory,” I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “I’m getting really fucking tired of your voice.”

He blinked, trying to fight against Matt’s grip on him. “Wh-what are you going to do?”

I sinisterly looked at the old pliers in my hand and shivered with delight. “I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

Screams of pain echoed loudly in the underground, but never making past the concrete walls, as I yanked his tongue out of his mouth. Cory writhed in the chair as his words were muffled as I nearly clipped the pliers with his tongue.

“One last question,” I said without an ounce of waver in my voice. “Does Vincent’s death have anything to do with Mrs. McManus’ death?”

The pupils of Cory’s eyes bled black and even with both mine and Matt’s grip on him, I felt the softest of nods. Something inside of me burned low with the revelation that my best friend was possibly killed by the same person that killed Scar’s mom.

“This is for everything you said about my wife.”

With the pliers clamped around Cory’s tongue, I ripped it with such force, blood spattered across my shirt, down to my shoes. His cries sounded like pure bliss to my ears as I let the limp muscle and pliers clatter to the dirty ground at my feet.

Matt pushed himself away from Cory, wiping his hands on the back of his sweats, before tossing me a rag.

“You got some blood on your face,” he pointed to his cheek.

With a disgusted groan, I wiped the blood away and ripped away the destroyed shirt now. It would have to join the burn pile. As I discarded my gloves into the same pile, I continued to ignore the mess of a man in front of me. Blood pooled down Cory’s chin and over his bare chest. But the satisfaction I thought I would feel after causing him this much pain was non-existent. I wanted him to suffer for everything he said about Scar but mostly the fact he had the nerve to cheat on her.

Matt immediately noticed the look in my eyes, having seen it one too many times before.

“Noah, let’s end this. It’s not like he’s physically able to tell us anything else,” he suggested.

I scratched at the tattoos on my chest absentmindedly, doing my best to calm the beast inside of me. I was alway calm with dealings like this, the more level headed one of our group. But Cory’s words about my wife continued to tease me and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Rage consumed me as I laid fist after fist into Cory’s flesh; anywhere I could.

His stomach.

His chest.

His face, over and over again.

It was as if the rage had blinded my vision, making the only thing I could see was pure darkness. His muffled groans and the sound of flesh on flesh was muted by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

“What the fuck!”

Chest heaving, I whirled around on my heels to see Scar standing on the far end of the room where the hidden staircase led. The soft features of her face were contorted with agony as she took in the sight in front of her.

Cory’s near lifeless body at my feet, still tied to the chair.

Matt sat on the metal table, dangling his legs in the air, as he browsed something on his phone.

And me, standing above the mess I created with blood on my hands; literally. Scar’s lips were parted, the softest off breaths falling from them, and her pupils were dilated with sheer fear.

No.

Not fear.

Arousal.

“Cory!” Scar bellowed before taking a step towards him, causing me to block her path.

“Now you care for him?” I sneered, wiping his blood over my chest.

“N-no,” she stammered while shifting on her feet. “I just-. I didn’t expect to see this when I came down here!”

Matt snorted from his spot on the table. “What did you expect to see, Scar? Us having a picnic?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck off, Matthew.”

“It’s Matt,” I corrected. “You need to go back upstairs.”

Now her fury was directed towards me and she poked a nail into my bare chest, doing her best not to gawk at the tattoos and blood.

Ultimately failing.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Noah!” She poked me again. “You brought me into this fucked up world, the least you can do is let me see it!”

I cocked my head to the side, slowly licking my lips, and took a tentative step towards her. The chill of the underground brought goosebumps to my skin but the reminder of how her finger felt poking my skin bathed me in warmth.

“Does this turn you on, Scar?” I teased with a low voice.

There was a slight hesitation before she scoffed, locking her hands on her hips. “No!”

Her voice was high pitched, almost scratchy, and it was something I remembered from highschool she would do this exact thing when she was lying. I raised a finger to her, twirling a piece of auburn hair around it.

“Admit it, Scar. Even you’ve thought about it. Dragging your knife across someone’s flesh. Their screams of despair and pain bring a sense of comfort, maybe even arousal,” I breathed into the crook of her neck.

She swallowed thickly and I tracked the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth, desperately wanting to know how they tasted.

“You’re sick!” her eyes snapped up towards mine.

I grinned, dark tendrils of hair falling into my even darker eyes. “If I’m so sick, then how come your hand is reaching for my belt?”

Scar cursed when she realized her fingers were brushing against the buckle of my belt and hurriedly jumped away from me. Her eyes darted back to the scene behind me, lingering on the slowly dying body at my feet.

“Did you rip out his tongue?!” She gasped, covering her mouth.

I kicked the limp muscle on the other side of the room carelessly. “Bastard kept talking about you. I needed to teach him a lesson.”

Matt slipped off of the table and reached for one of the smaller pocket knives we had hanging on the wall behind him. Twirling it between his fingers, he nodded towards Scar.

“Do you want to finish him off? A little payback for him cheating on you?”

For the briefest of moments, she thought about it with the way her gaze lingered on the sharp blade before falling down to Cory, who had passed out from the pain. Scar was facing an internal battle inside of her between what was right and wrong. Well, what she thought was wrong. Nothing I did in the undergrounds of the Concrete Jungle was wrong. I did it to protect what I’ve created here and to protect the ones I love.

“What do you say? Or are you too much of a pussy to get the job done?” I taunted, hands buried deep into the pockets of my dress slacks.

Scar’s lips recoiled as she violently shook her head. “If I would have known you were like this, I wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage!”

My heart sank to the depths of my stomach but I continued to hold my demeanor, not allowing her to know how her words continued to affect me.

“Fine,” I shrugged with a sigh. “You have two choices. Stay here and watch or go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Wait for you? For what?” She blinked.

Not uttering a word, I turned on my heels back towards Cory and kicked his abdomen, waking him from his slumber. Words were muffled as he tried to fight against the binds, weakly due to the blood loss, so Matt bent at the knees next to him.

“We’ll make it quick,” he shook the knife in front of Cory’s face, whose eyes flared with fear.

I didn’t have to see if Scar went upstairs, I could feel her presence behind me as she stalked closer. The ghost brush of a hand on my lower back made my spine stiffen and when I glanced over my shoulder, I raised a brow at her.

“Curious cat, eh?”

“Fuck off, Sebastain!” She pushed away from me and I could hear her footsteps amcking against the concrete as she ran up the hidden staircase.

“Did you want the honors, boss?” Matt’s voice caused me to turn my head back towards him.

“He’s all yours,” I said, the urge to hurt him not present. “Have Ash help you clean up. But once you’re finished, do me a favor and look into what he was rambling on about earlier.”

Matt gave a quick two finger salute. My heart was no longer in this game of torture and mutalation. It was vying for the woman upstairs and wanting to make things right with her. The usual sick thrill I got from watching a kill meant nothing as I followed Scar’s footsteps.

SCAR

I lay in bed with my back turned towards the door, trying my darndest to erase the image of Cory on the flood from my brain. While I never loved him, it still struck something inside of me to see him so broken on death's door. Yet, the way Noah looked towered over him, shirtless and the blue lights of the underground emanating him in neon glows now made something burn inside. My pussy ached as I remembered how the blood looked smeared across Noah’s tattooed chest and for the quickest of moments, I wanted to lick it off of him.

“You’re so fucked up!” I groaned while pressing my palms into my eyes, hoping to rub away the vision from my mind.

“Talking to yourself?”

Snapping my eyes open, I saw Noah leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, thick arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a dream with the setting sun's rays blasting through the large windows and casting him in a peachy glow. His belt and button were undone, showcasing the hard V line of his hips as his pants hung low, and I found myself staring at the few dark hairs that peaked out from the waistband of his briefs.

“If you want it, Scar. All you need to do is ask,” Noah teased while pushing himself off the door frame and stalked into the bedroom.

Rolling my eyes, I sat up in bed and pulled my knees to my chest as I watched him walk towards the bathroom.

“Did you kill him?”

My words made Noah pause, the muscles in his back flexing, but he didn’t look towards me. “Will you cry if I tell you the truth?”

“I don’t love him. Never had. But that doesn't mean he deserved to die, Noah!”

Now he whirled around on his feet, dark eyes staring daggers into me.

“He cheated on you, Scar! Bragged about how the only good hole you had was your mouth. Claimed you would lie there stiff as a board,” Noah ran a hand through his hair.

I pulled my lips in a tight light after I was about to say something but when he took a large step towards me, I realized he wasn't done yet.

“Did you really think I would let him get away with talking about you like that? My wife. In my shop?!”

His eyes were wild as he loomed over me in the bed and my stomach flipped at his words.

My wife.

“I-,” my voice faltered, unsure what to say.

Noah’s nostrils flared, his anger radiating off of him in droves, and he leaned farther over me causing my body to fall to the bed. Tattooed arms locked me in on both sides of my head and I felt his scorching breath fanning over my lips. We were so close that if I titled my head up just a tad, I would finally be able to figure out what he tasted like; a thought that had been plaguing my mind since highschool.

“Let’s make one thing clear here. You’re mine, angel. Anyone who disrespects you will pay a price, regardless of who they are,” Noah pressed his hips against mine.

I sucked in a breath when his cock brushed along my pussy, over the silk fabric of my pajama shorts. I’d change once I came back upstairs, ready for the day to be over, not caring it was just before six in the evening. My hands shook at my sides, unsure what to do with them, so Noah grabbed them and pinned both of them above my head; both wrists fitting in one of his hands.

“Wh-what did you call me?” I choked out, suddenly realizing what he said.

His nose brushed along my jawline, breathing me in.

“Angel,” Noah almost purred.

I swallowed thickly, doing my best to keep my strong hold against him even though it was faltering with every brush of his cock against me. He was slowly dry humping me and I was giving back to him with even strokes. There was still dried blood across the tattoos on his chest, painting them in crimson, and I could still smell the lingering copper scent.

“What if I don’t like it?” I panted, nearly gone in bliss.

He groaned while grazing his teeth along my jugular. “Too bad because it stays. Angel.”

With one of his hands still keeping mine locked about my head, his other slipped underneath my nightshirt to graze over my blazed skin. We were like a couple of horny teenagers that found their first moment alone with each other with how frenzied our movements were against each other. My orgasm was building slowly, the familiar tingling sensation in the base of my spine. It was so close, I could taste it on the tip of my tongue and I wanted nothing more than to scream out his name as I came undone underneath hNoah.

“How wet are you, angel?” He flicked his tongue against my earlobe. “I bet you're soaked just from this.”

I nodded, too far gone now to try and fight against him. I needed this release more than oxygen and it was almost as if Noah understood because his hand slipped between us to tease my folds over my shorts.

“I fucking knew it,” he chuckled darkly. “How bad do you want my cock, Scar?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to give away how bad I actually wanted or how I’ve wanted it since freshman year. Instead I raised my hips up towards his hands, a silent beg falling from my lips.

“Use your words,” Noah demanded before smacking my pussy.

“Shit!” I cried out. “Fuck you.”

He wrapped one of my legs around his back so he could press his clothed cock over my core at a different angle and it was everything I needed for the coil to snap.

“Oh god,” my body convulsed underneath Noah as I let my orgasm overcome all of my senses.

White hazy stars danced at the edges of my vision.

I could taste the blood from Noah’s chest as I lapped at it, unknowingly.

All the noises around me seemed to fade away. The only thing I could hear was Noah’s grunts as he continued to dry fuck me.

At some point he let go of my hands and my nails scratched at the large Jesus portrait against Noah’s back, working myself through the aftershocks.

The scent of his cologne hung along the edge of my nose as I breathed him in.

“That’s such a good girl, Scar. You sound so pretty when you cum,” Noah praised while dragging his teeth along the side of my neck.

My jaw fell slack when I finally came down from my high and Noah began rising the hem of my shirt up over my stomach.

“You can lie all you want, Scar. But what you saw downstairs turned you on,” he flicked his eyes up at me from his new position over my belly.

“You’re crazy,” I breathed, letting my eyes flutter shut.

“For you-.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

My head snapped over towards the doorway where I saw one of his men leaning against the same spot Noah had been minutes prior. I vaguely recognized him as one of the members of OMNS; his long hair down past his shoulders and the cross earring hanging from his ear. The accent immediately told me who it was. I tried to scurry away from Noah, only for him to hold onto my hips with a vice grip, him sitting up against the back of his calves.

“Need something Joakim?” Noah made no effort to fix his pants or briefs as they were askew. I didn’t miss the agitation in his voice.

Joakim's eyes lingered at us for a moment before he motioned towards me. “Her fathers estate has been calling the lobby of the apartments. Apparently, her uncle wants to have her over for dinner tonight to celebrate the nuptials.”

Both Noah and I shared a look, knowing that it couldn’t be true because we saw my dad and uncle a few hours ago and neither of them made it known they wanted dinner tonight. Plus, if they did, they would call my cell phone, not the lobby.

Smacking his leg, Noah reluctantly rolled off of me allowing me to sit up and fix my hair and hopefully cool down my heated cheeks. I wasn’t sure how long Joakim had been watching us but from the sly smirk on his lips, I had a feeling it was before my orgasm.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Scar,” Noah sat on the edge of the bed, hair a disheveled mess and pants still unbuttoned.

While I expected to see his cock thick and hard, it nearly shocked me to see a faint wet spot staining the gray briefs; not from my arousal.

“I’ll be fine. Maybe it was a last minute dinner he wanted to set up. I’m sure he’s curious about the Cory situation,” I said.

Noah’s brows peaked. “What are you going to tell him?”

I shrugged. “It was handled. They don’t need to know the details.”

“Let me come with you. Since it is a dinner to celebrate us,” he spoke while rising from the bed, however Joakim shook his head.

“You’re needed at the M.I.N.D Clinic. Something happened with one of our extended guests.”

Noah sighed with even more agitation than before and pinched his eyes shut. “Fine. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you in the living room in ten minutes.”

“Wiat!” I grabbed his arm before he could retreat into the bathroom. “The M.I.N.D Clinic is real?”

“Yes,” his lips pulled down at my surprise. “It’s been a running establishment for the last three years. How have you not known about it?”

I shrugged. “There were rumors in my neighborhood about what you do in the Concrete Jungle but none of us knew for sure. The M.I.N.D Clinic allows you to go through your memories, right? Relieve them?”

Noah nodded but then his eyes widened when he realized what I was getting at and firmly shook his head. “Absolutely not, Scar. It can be a dangerous place there. We’ve had a resident with us for the last 118 days because he’s trying to remember his wife who is currently on her deathbed. The M.I.N.D program, while it is one I’ve programmed myself, still has its flaws. If you find yourself too deep, you won’t be able to pull yourself out.”

“But-!”

“No, Saoirse. Do not ask again,” Noah snapped, using my first name to let me know he meant what he said.

Holding up my hands, I nodded. “Fine. I’m going to change and head to my dad’s. I’ll be back later.”

“Take Joakim with you,” Noah said as I walked away from him. “I’ll bring Nicholas with me.”

Joakim nodded towards him but gave me a playful wink as I walked past him towards the walk in closet. “No offense, Joakim. But I can take care of myself. It’s just a dinner, no need for protection.”

Waving off Noah’s protests, I closed myself inside of the closet to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not bothering to get dressed up for this last minute dinner, and drove down the familiar but darkened roads back to my fathers estate. I tried calling him once I got in the car to confirm but got his voicemail after three rings. Even though I knew it was nothing, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart beat increased the closer I got, something not sitting well with me. I couldn’t even enjoy the earlier thought of me coming apart for Noah without the fear of what I was about to walk into looming.

How could I allow myself to let Noah take that part of me? I had told myself over and over again before moving in that I would not fold that fast for him, yet there I was begging for his cock like a horny teeneager.

I mean, you were horny. You did love what you saw in the underground.

Grumbling at my thoughts, I took the familiar turn around the bend, my old neighborhood less than a mile away. Yet I was blinded when a pair of bright headlights came barreling towards me.

“Shit!” I cursed before wrenching the steering wheel to the side, causing my car to skid close to the edge.

Right in perfect sight of the car that t boned into me. All I could remember was the sound of metal on metal and glass breaking before being plunged into darkness.

JOAKIM

“Did she make it?” I asked Noah who had stepped inside of his office at the M.I.N.D Clinic.

While he was busy tending to the resident and his wife, I’d been sitting at his desk, looking over the numbers in the books. We had made a decent increase in revenue the last six months, along with a lot of our other businesses. We no longer had to worry about where money was coming from to cover the expenses of the underground, yet it was still nice to be aware of where the money was going.

Noah shook his head and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his black jacket. His black turtle neck had been pulled up high, covering the snake tattoo on his neck.

“She didn’t make it. He claims he kept having visions of her dying over and over again while he was under,” Noah fell into the chair across from the desk with a deep sigh.

“What happens now?” I wondered while leaning farther back into my own chair.

“He paid out for 150 days, he’s going to honor the rest of his contract. To be honest, I don’t think we’d be able to make him leave,” he ran a hand through his locks, brushing them away from his face.

We sat in silence for a moment until his deep voice reverberated in the air.

“How much of that did you see? Back at the penthouse?”

I gazed away from the computer screen to see a faint redness creeping along Noah’s defined cheekbones and snickered.

“Enough to know why Scar has been on your mind since highschool,” I clicked off the program before shutting down the computer.

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t expect to fall into her so quickly, Jolly. She has this way of pulling me in and I’m so afraid that I’ll fall even harder than the last time when she realizes I’m not what she wants.”

I kicked my feet up on the desk, ignoring the way Noah glared at the action.

“She doesn't have a choice, Noah. As long as both sides want to keep the peace and stop a war from breaking out, she has to remain married to you.”

I could tell my words did nothing to ease the anxiety in his mind so I continued. “Plus from what I saw and heard, she’s into you more than you think.”

Noah’s lips parted to speak but was interrupted by the constant shrill of his phone ringing and he dug it out of his pants pocket.

“It’s Scar,” he muttered before answering. “Hey, did you make it-.”

It was silent for an eerily amount of time and with the way his face changed from neutral to fear to pure anger made me sit straight up in the chair now.

“Where are you?” Noah made a simple motion with his hand, one I understood, and quickly I made my way over to the other end of the office, yanking one of the books off of the book shelf.

The shelf next to me creaked open from the middle, showcasing a large array of different kinds of weapons. After I grabbed one of the handguns, making sure it was loaded, I grabbed one of Noah’s favorites and tossed it to him. He caught it without even looking, still on the phone with Scar.

“It’s alright, angel. Joakim and I can be there in ten minutes. Have you called the cops?”

Angel?

Cops?

What the fuck was going on?

“Don’t. I’ll call the guys to meet you there. Folio can get there in five with his bike. Just stay out of sight, alright?” Noah said while grabbing another gun, giving me a sideways glance.

You can never be too safe.

Once he hung up, he worked out a text message, no doubt to our group chat, and then slipped on his leather gloves.

“Is she alright?” I asked as we made our way through the hidden door of the office that led to the back alley.

“I don’t know,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

Neither of us said a word as we slipped inside of the sleek black car, Noah speeding off before I even buckled my seat belt.

SCAR

The sound of metal scraping along the concrete was loud in my ears as I stood frozen, gazing at the sight in front of me. In an instant, everything changed and I couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if I didn't make it out.

If I was at the bottom of the ocean with what was left of the crumpled piece of metal. The face behind the mask was the last thing I saw before swerving my car out of the way and tumbling over the edge.

I let out a choked sob as the tears finally fell from my eyes and I didn't bother to wipe them away. Fear etched its way deep into my bones and my body shook uncontrollably. Until a faint shadow in the darkness appeared through the fog and the fear stilled, only for a moment.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I sobbed, cradling my arms to my chest, hoping to hide the injuries from him. "I didn't know who else to call."

Noah stepped out of the thick fog and immediately cradled my face, eyes scanning for every visible injury he could see.

“Are you alright, angel?”

The tenderness in his voice did nothing to ease away the pain weighing my body down. I shook my head, tears still falling.

“I should have called someone else. I know you’re busy and you wanted me to be with a guard but I didn’t want to be a bother,” I rambled on.

Noah’s thumb grazed over a deep wound on my cheek, gathering up the blood. “You always call me, Scar. Always.”

I blinked through the tears but eventually nodded.

“The car came out of nowhere! The only thing I could see was a masked person driving before it crashed into me,” I sobbed but then pointed a shaking finger towards the cliff edge twenty feet from us. “My car hung on the ledge for a few minutes and I climbed my way out, barely making it out before it fell into the water.”

Noah’s grip on my face tightened before he pulled me into his chest, large hands leaving soothing circles against my back as I cried.

“It’s alright, angel. I’ve got you. You’re alright,” he cooed.

“Everything hurts. I think my arm is broken,” I continued to sob. “I should go to a hospital.”

“No,” he pulled away from me slightly so he could glance down at me through the darkness, only illuminated by the lights from his car. “Hospitals will ask questions. I’ve got a doctor on call that will meet us back at the penthouse to look at that arm and stitch up your wounds.”

Suddenly exhausted from the aftermath of the crash, I numbly nodded before collapsing into his arms. Noah cursed before picking me up bridal style to carry me over to Nicholas’ SUV. He arrived seconds after Noah did.

“How is she?” Nicholas wondered while Noah laid me down in the back seat.

“We need to get her back to the penthouse, now. Have the doctor meet you guys there. I’m going to see what I can find,” Noah ordered.

I reached for his hand, keeping him from leaving. He stood in the open doorway of the car and peered down at me with concern in his almond eyes.

“Please don’t leave,” my voice shook.

While I did grow up in the mob life, I never was exposed to it in this kind of magnitude. There wasn’t a doubt in any of our minds that this whole night had been a hit on me or Noah. But we weren't sure who had set it up.

His clenched jaw eased before letting out a tender breath. “I need to figure out what happened. I won’t be long.”

“Folio is already looking,” I explained while slowly sitting up, grimacing at the pain that shot through me.

Just then, Folio popped up behind Noah, a cigar hanging loosely from his lips.

“What did you find out?” He whirled around, fanning out the smoke.

“The driver,” Folio adjusted his leather cut off. “Put up a nasty fight at first, damn near scratched my eyes out.”

At the mention of the scuffle, I did notice three red marks down the side of his face and over the Jesus tattoo on the side of his neck.

“So is he dead or alive?” Noah asked, aggravated.

I could tell in the way his shoulders tensed underneath his jacket that he was ready to take care of this by himself.

Folio smirked before pulling the cigar from his mouth. “She is alive. Got her in the trunk of your car.”

Very quickly, Noah barked out orders to all of his men before they all piled into their respective cars. He motioned for me to lay down again, resting my head in his lap as Nicholas drove us away from the scene. I could hear the rumble of Folio’s bike next to us while Joakim and Matt rode in Noah’s car that had the culprit tied up in the trunk. I knew that there were other cars behind us but I couldn’t care at that moment because Noah’s fingers worked through the blood matted knots of my hair.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and looked at. I’m going to have a conversation with this driver,” he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the car in front of him.

“I want to be the one to do it.”

Noah’s eyes fell down to mine, heavy with exhaustion, but I forced them open.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

It nearly took me off guard that he didn’t argue with me but I recovered quickly.

“She nearly killed me, Noah,” I squeezed his knee, adjusting myself so I could take a small nap. “I’m going to find out why.”

SCAR

I stood in front of the woman who lay slumped in front of me, her words replaying in my mind over and over again. None of it could be true. There was no way; not possible.

We all arrived to the penthouse about an hour ago and while Noah brought me upstairs to get checked out and cleaned up, the rest of OMNS were busy dealing with her. I had a broken arm that was currently being held up by a sling and a wound on my forehead that needed to be stitched up, covered with a bandage. Besides those and a few bumps and bruises, I would live; much to the dismay of the woman at my feet.

It wasn't easy for me to shower by myself but I made due, not wanting Noah’s help. Even with our moment earlier this evening in bed, I wasn’t ready for him to see me naked yet.

The doctor prescribed me some meds for the pain but I declined, never liking the idea of pain meds after seeing my friends in high school abuse their parents. I’d gladly suffer for a few weeks rather than get addicted. As soon as I was dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top, I had Noah help me back into the sling before both of us took the hidden staircase down to the underground where my prey sat waiting for me.

Nicholas and Folio had already roughed her up a bit for me and I couldn’t ignore the way it brought a giddy smile to my face seeing the woman a bloody mess. When she saw both Noah and I descended the stairs, pure ice cold fear filled her pupils and began rambling off nonsense.

Nonsense about my mother.

Once we arrived, Noah dismissed Nicholas and Folio, leaving just us three alone.

"Pl-please," she blabbered while spitting out blood. "You have to believe me! I saw it!"

“That’s not possible. She’s been dead for years. You saw her doppelganger or some shit,” I sneered while kicking her in her face, watching her rear back against the chilled concrete floor.

Thankfully I remembered to slip on my black boots before coming down here.

“I know what I saw! She was seen with Vincent!” The woman continued to spew bullshit.

According to Nicholas, he found out some details about this woman. She worked for the Italians and was set out to veer my car off of the road because they were upset that the deal for my hand in marriage was made with Noah and not one of their prospective sons.

As if I would ever get in bed with the Italians.

“You’re saying whatever you can think of to prolong you walking out of here alive,” I rolled my eyes before reaching for the knife that Noah had laid out prior to us coming down here.

I told him that I wanted to be the one to integrate her, he could hang back and watch in case things got out of hand. But before we came down here, he showed me how to properly use a knife.

“Keep a light grip on the handle but firm with the blade against their skin,” he breathed against the back of my neck as he stood behind me in our bedroom.

He held the blade against the sensitive skin of my neck and I held my breath, not due to fear but arousal. The scene also had an effect on him because I could feel Noah’s cock against the swell of my ass.

“It’s all true! Two weeks before Vincent showed up on OMNS doorstep, I saw him with your mother! At some sleazy German bar, they wanted to meet on neutral ground to discuss something.”

I paused twirling the knife in my hand and watched as the woman rose to her knees, holding out her hands.

“Discuss what?” I questioned, absitmindly playing with my wedding ring.

I couldn’t believe that it was still the same day that Noah and I signed the marriage certificate. It felt like days ago.

The woman hesitated before wiping the blood away from her broken nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t exactly know.”

Sighing, I yanked her head back by her hair, exposing her neck to the neon lights adorning the ceiling. I had no plans on killing her, that wasn’t me. Yet again, this whole torturing of a victim wasn’t me either, but given the circumstances I allowed myself this.

But realizing I could only hold her head back with my good arm, unable to hold the knife against her throat, I groaned before pushing her down the ground again.

My eyes snapped over to Noah leaning against the concrete wall, the bottom half of his face covered in the black mask. Dark tendrils of hair fell into his face but his hands were covered in blood so he refused to push them away.

“I’m suddenly bored. There’s no need to question you any longer. Have fun with her, Noah. I’m going to bed,” I grumbled, slamming the knife on the table as I walked past him, who still hadn’t uttered a word or moved a muscle.

“Noah looked into your mothers death! He sent Matt to find out more information,” the woman called after me, halting my footsteps. “It’s all over the Concrete Jungle that your mother was seen with Vincent. In more ways than one, if you catch my drift.

My head snapped over to Noah, ignoring the suddenly sinister laugh falling from the woman's mouth.

"Is it true?" I asked him, venom in my voice.

All he did was blink once but that was answer enough.

Yes.

I scoffed. “Were you planning on telling me?”

One blink.

Yes.

I pointed to the woman. “Does she have anything to do with my mother?”

This time, Noah didn’t blink which again told me his answer.

He didn’t know.

The woman watched the interaction between Noah and I, shaking her head wildly. "You can't believe him! He's lying!"

I cocked my head at her with narrowed eyes. There was a large and warm presence behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, Noah was now standing behind me; physically and metaphorically.

"Noah's my husband. He has no reason to,” I said.

The woman's face was covered in blood, her right eye swollen shut but I wasn’t sure if it was from our beatings or from the car accident she caused. But I could see the briefest hint of fear in them when my fingers grazed over the handle of the gun Noah extended towards me.

"No, you're not like him. Please!” She begged while wrapping her arms around my hips, holding onto me.

The part of me that didn’t like the dark side of the mob life called to me, overpowering the thrill of seeing her weep at my feet and gently, I removed her grasp around me.

“I’m done,” I spoke flatly, pushing her away from me.

Mentally, I was exhausted from the everlasting day and was ready to call it a night when dark laughter pulled me back to the pathetic excuse of a woman.

“Your mother was right. You never could hack it in this business. I’m shocked your father signed you over to Noah Sebastian. He needs someone that can get their hands dirty. Maybe he’d be better off with me-.”

It all happened so quickly, barely having time to actually register what happened until it was too late. Me scurrying back over towards Noah, who still held the gun outstretched and my finger on the trigger, firing off two rounds directly into the woman's skull; right between the eyes.

The ringing in my ear due to the gunshot was deafening as I stood there motionless, unable to process any coherent thought or word. It wasn’t until I felt callused fingers around my wrist, pulling my attention away from the dead body at my feet and to the dark eyes of Matt, filled with concern.

“Let’s get you upstairs, Scar,” he gingerly led me back towards the hidden staircase, too far gone in a state of shock to realize Noah had begun cleaning up my mess.

NOAH

“Scar?” I called out into the dark penthouse.

After I finished cleaning up the mess in the underground thanks to help from Ash and Bryan, I made my way upstairs to check on Scar. Matt had taken her upstairs over an hour ago but I hadn’t heard how she was doing. It’s never easy, your first kill, so I knew the feeling of disgust and dread she had to have been feeling.

As I walked down the long hallway towards our bedroom, ignoring the one room that always remained locked, I paused momentarily just past the doorway of the bedroom when I heard soft cries echoing from the shower.

“Scar?” I called out again, this time with more fever as I ran into the bathroom, the sight stalling my heart.

She was curled up in a ball, still in her clothes and sling, soaked to the bone as she cried out. There was a frigid chill in the air, indicating she’d run through all of the hot water, but that didn’t stop me from kicking off my boots and stepping into the shower with her; clothes and all.

“Noah!” She cried, immediately pulling me into her, burying her face in my soaked black shirt.

“Shh,” I brushed my lips across her forehead, the bandage covering her stitches barely hanging on. “I’ve got you.”

“Am I?” Scar choked out, fisting at the fabric. “Am I a monster now?”

My heart shattered, pieces falling into the depths of my abdomen but I shook my head. Cupping her cheek, I forced her to look up at me, water droplets hanging onto her long lashes.

“No, angel. You’re a fighter. You did what needed to be done,” I held her closer to me, allowing her to cry out the guilt and anguish she felt.

She might have felt like a monster right now but I knew that she would evolve into something greater, far exceeding the expectations her family set against her. They were right when they thought she couldn’t run the McManus empire. Because she was made to run OMNS with me by her side.

First things first, however, we needed to have a talk with Matt and figure out what he found out about her mother's death.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian x ofc #mafiaboss!noah sebastian #tattooartist!noah sebastian #the coyotes cry noah sebastian #noah sebastian fan fictions

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vivwritesfics · 6 months ago

Text

Waiting For The Sun

Chapter One

Rhett Abbott has been hearing his soulmate in his head for ten years. She's the sweetest thing, nicknamed Muffin after her love of baking. Rhett doesn't know who Muffin is, doesn't know where she is, but hearing her voice always makes his day better. But then Trevor Tillerson is killed and Rhett's life is thrown into chaos. Through it all, Muffin in there for her soulmate. She wants nothing more than to find him, even through the chaos.

Soulmate AU Warnings: talks of religion

Series Masterlist

She’d been hearing the same voice in her head since she was fourteen years old. It had been jarring at first, hearing someone else's commentary from a rodeo she wasn't even attending. Whoever this person was had some really strong opinions about the bull riders they had been watching.

So jarring, in fact, that she went running to her mother, terrified. "Momma!" She cried as she ran down the stairs of the family farmhouse. "I'm hearin' voices!"

Her mother said nothing as she folded her newspaper and looked across the room, looked to her husband. Fourteen years old was too young to be hearing the voice of your soulmate, they both thought. But they couldn't have been much older when the writing first appeared on their own arms.

Her sister laughed. "That's your soulmate speaking to you, idiot," she said as she looked up from her book for just a moment. Normally, her mother would have scolded her for such language, but there were bigger fish to fry.

"My... what?" She asked, still standing on the bottom step of the stairs.

Her mother shuffled over, creating some space for her on the couch. She patted the space between herself and her eldest daughter, signalling for her youngest to come and sit between them. "Sweetie, it's time somebody told you about soulmates," she said gently.

As her youngest sat, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the raised skin her of own soulmate mark. It used to be a tattoo, the first words her soulmate would ever say to her marked on her skin in black ink. The mark was supposed to remain there for the rest of her life, but tattoos were something she was against, something she and her husband saw as a sin. She had the tattoo removed, leaving raised skin as the only races of what was. "What did it say?" Her youngest daughter asked as she hesitantly lifted her fingers to trace over the raised skin.

She sucked in a breath and read out the passage from the bible that her husband had used to win her over. "'Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all'," she said and pulled her sleeve back down to cover up her past sins. "Those were the first words your father said to me, and that was how I knew he was my soulmate."

She looked across the room, at her husband. He was usually quiet, and this was no different. He said nothing as he watched them, so still his wife wondered if he was even listening.

"What has your soulmate said?" The eldest daughter asked. Her bookmark was in her book, which she placed down on the little round table beside the couch. "Has he at least said anything interesting?"

The youngest of the two shrugged her shoulders. "Nothin' too interestin' yet," she said and her mother gave her the side eye. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time pronouncing her G's. "I think he was at the rodeo," she mumbled and fiddled with her fingers. "Seemed to know a lot about bull ridin'."

Suddenly, her sister was sitting a little straighter. "A rodeo in Amelia County?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

Before the girls could continue with this conversation, their father cleared his throat, making his presence known. Well, his presence was always known in that house. "Time for bed, girls," he said in his usual gruff voice. "We've got church in the morning."

Both girls bowed their heads as they walked up the stairs and disappeared into their bedrooms.

***

That was ten years ago, the night her soulmate first spoke to her. She didn't speak back to him right away, didn't know how. As soon as her soulmate realised that someone else was there, trying to talk to him, he taught her how.

Neither of them had shut up since, it seemed.

Mornin', came the groggy voice of her soulmate.

The moment his voice filled her head, she couldn't help but smile. It had become a routine, waiting for him to wake up and then grinning when his voice filled her head. Morning, sleepyhead, she said, not looking up from her flowers. Are you aware that it's ten in the morning?

It is? Ah, shit.

Language, she scolded, but she knew he could hear her laugh. It was something he said every day, several times a day. Each time she scolded him, and each time he called her cute.

There was a break before he responded. She could see it in her mind, a faceless man rolling out of bed and pulling a shirt over his muscular chest. He'd place a Stetson on his head, a black on, pat his dog on the head, and go out to work on a ranch.

What is my Muffin doin' today? He asked as she used her trowel to dig a hole in her flower patch.

She looked up as her neighbour climbed out of his truck, where he'd undoubtedly slept. Rhett Abbott. There was a time, back when she was eighteen, that she thought Rhett was her soulmate. But those thoughts, that... hope, didn't last long. Not when she saw the way Rhett looked at Maria Olivares. There was no doubt in her mind that they, Rhett and Maria, were soulmates.

She didn't answer his question. What she was doing was boring and uninteresting. So, instead, she asked, Do you ever think about how it's been ten years and we haven't met yet? I mean, I don't even know if you're in-

But her soulmate didn't hear the rest of it, couldn't hear the rest of it. They'd figured out the rules quickly. they couldn't say names, places or any physical descriptions. Nothing that could aid them in finding each other. They'd meet when the universe was good and ready for it. That was God's plan, after all.

It wasn't the first time she'd said it to her soulmate. And, every time, he knew exactly what to say. Muffin, it's okay, he said to her. When we meet, I'll take you out for dinner. Breakfast for dinner, he promised.

She couldn't help but laugh. You always know just what to say, she said to him as she put her trowel down and pulled her gloves away from her fingers (it was so hot in Wyoming, she couldn't stand to wear her gardening gloves for very long. Not unless she wanted her hands to be all sweaty and pruney).

Go on, Muffin. Tell me what you're up to, he said, his voice sounding like a mumble in her head.

She held up the sunflower she had been growing for the last few weeks. Do you remember the sunflower growing competition I'm holding with the youth group? She asked and he let out a hum. Well, I'm planting my sunflower in my garden.

Holy fuck, he immediately said. You're so damn cute.

Language! But, again, she was laughing. But then the laughter stopped. Oh shoot! I got soil on my dress and now it's all dirty, she grumbled as she stood and brushed the dirty away from the blue skirt of her dress.

He let out another hum. Bet you still look great, he said in her mind.

It had been ten years. Ten year of them knowing each other without ever meeting. They'd learnt everything there was to know about each other, without knowing who the other was. And he knew exactly how to push her buttons, but in the best way. He knew exactly how to get her giggling like a school girl, not like the twenty four year old woman she was.

They talked through the morning, as they did every morning. When his employer had him counting cattle, she helped to keep track of the numbers. But then she was heading inside, grabbing the grocery list her mother had stuck on the fridge, grabbing her keys, and heading out.

You should get those cosmic brownie things you like, he said as she started her car.

It took a moment of turning the key before the engine came to life. Not on the list, she said as she began driving away from her family's property. You know how my mother gets.

I know, Muffin, he replied as she drove up the rode, drove past the Abbott Ranch. And there was Rhett Abbott, riding on his usual black horse. She gave him the polite smile and he tipped his hat, a sign of two acquaintances that barely knew each other.

As soon as Rhett had ridden off, her soulmate was back in her head. But you deserve a treat!

She let out a hum of her own, a habit she had picked up from him. I'm gonna make muffins for bible study later, she said as she drove into town.

Flavour? He asked as she pulled up outside of The Handsome Gambler. She'd never stepped a foot inside, might have been one of the only people in Wabang that hadn't .

A smile played on her lips as she walked into the store, reusable bag stuffed into the tote bag on her shoulder. Walking around the store, she had never felt so naked. All because of some damned stain left by soil. Muffin? You still there? He asked.

Shit, sorry.

That's my girl.

There was no point in trying to hide her smile. Blueberry, he said, answering his question from earlier.

Having her soulmate in her head while she was grocery shopping wasn't easy, not in the slightest. He threw out suggestions that had her damn near reaching for the stuff. Stuff that wasn't on her mothers list, stuff that would have had her mother angry.

Twenty Four year old and still scared of her parents. It was pathetic.

Not pathetic, Muffin. I don't wanna be hearin' that shit.

She couldn't help but apologise, even if he wouldn't hear it. How many times had he said 'my Muffin don't apologise for nothin'' over the years? When she wandered over to the checkout, he was quiet, let her count the cash in her purse. And then, as she loaded the groceries into the car, he was humming. It was a song she didn't recognise from the tune alone. But it was sweet and it was comforting.

It was him.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

Rhett Abbott Taglist (OPEN): @writtingrose

WFTS Taglist (OPEN): @finnydraws (you don't get a choice)

@nurse-sainz (you don't get a choice)

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott oneshot #rhett abbott fic #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer range fanfiction #soulmate au #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader

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rose24207 · 6 days ago

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The Balance of Us

Summary: As Lando navigates his dangerous world, his fiercely curious daughter and gentle son test the delicate balance of their family, while his kind-hearted wife remains his unwavering anchor in a life of chaos.

Genre: Mafia!Dad!Lando, fluff, angst if you squint

TW: Mafia

A/N: Yeah I’m posting it. There are two more to come. Whoops. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

It had been a few weeks since the last family dinner where Lando had reflected on the curious dynamic of his household.

Life in the Norris estate was never dull, and tonight was no exception.

The children were growing up fast, each displaying glimpses of the people they’d one day become.

For better or worse, they carried pieces of both parents, and it was beginning to show in the most unexpected ways.

The estate was quiet. Most of the staff had retired for the evening, leaving only the night guards stationed at key points.

Amelia, however, wasn’t in bed like she should have been. Instead, she was tiptoeing down one of the many hallways, her favorite flashlight in hand.

“Amelia,” Jacob hissed from behind her, clutching a stuffed rabbit tightly. “We’re going to get in trouble!”

“We won’t if you stop talking,” Amelia whispered back, shining her flashlight in front of her.

The two children had overheard something earlier—guards talking about a "delivery" in the estate's basement.

Amelia, endlessly curious about her father’s world, wanted to see what it was.

Jacob, on the other hand, was dragged along against his will, a reluctant sidekick in his sister’s adventures.

“What if it’s something bad?” Jacob asked nervously.

“Then I’ll handle it,” Amelia said confidently, sounding far older than her ten years.

Just as they rounded a corner, a shadow loomed behind them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Both children froze, turning slowly to see Lando standing there, arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowing.

Jacob shrank back, hiding behind Amelia. “We were just… exploring.”

“Exploring?” Lando repeated, his voice low but edged with disbelief. “At this hour?”

Y/N appeared moments later, drawn by the commotion. Her expression softened immediately when she saw the kids. “What’s going on here?”

“Your children decided to investigate my business,” Lando said, glancing pointedly at Amelia.

“I wanted to know what the delivery was,” Amelia admitted boldly, her chin lifting in defiance.

Lando exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Amelia, I’ve told you before. There are things in this house you’re not ready to understand.”

“She’s just curious,” Y/N said gently, stepping forward to kneel beside Amelia and Jacob. “It’s a good trait, but there’s a time and place for it, sweetheart. And sneaking around at night isn’t it.”

Amelia frowned but nodded, looking slightly chastised.

Jacob immediately wrapped his arms around Y/N, muttering, “Sorry, Mum.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head and stood. “Alright, off to bed. Both of you. No more sneaking around.”

Lando watched as she herded the children back toward their rooms, his gaze lingering on Amelia’s determined little face.

“She’s going to be trouble,” he muttered to himself, though there was a trace of pride in his voice.

The next morning, the family gathered for breakfast. The dining room was filled with the sound of clinking dishes and lively chatter.

“Dad, why can’t I know what you do?” Amelia asked suddenly, stabbing a piece of toast with her fork.

Lando set down his coffee cup, glancing at Y/N for support.

Y/N smiled gently. “Your dad’s work is very complicated, Amelia. And some parts of it… well, they’re not something a ten-year-old needs to worry about.”

“But you know about it,” Amelia pressed, looking at her mother. “And you’re nice.”

Y/N laughed softly, while Lando raised an eyebrow.

“Nice has nothing to do with it,” he said. “Your mother is smarter and stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s why she can handle it.”

Jacob piped up, his voice quiet. “I don’t think I’d want to know. I like the garden and the library.”

“That’s fine too,” Y/N said warmly. “Everyone has their own strengths.”

Amelia, however, wasn’t satisfied. “I’m going to be just like you one day,” she told Lando.

Y/N exchanged a look with her husband, her smile fading slightly. “We’ll talk about that when you’re older,” she said gently.

Later that day, Lando found Y/N in the garden, trimming roses. She was always happiest out here, surrounded by life and beauty, a stark contrast to the chaos of his world.

“You’re worried about Amelia,” he said, stepping closer.

Y/N sighed, placing the shears down. “She’s too young to want this, Lando. She doesn’t understand what it really means.”

“She’s got my stubbornness,” Lando admitted, smirking faintly.

“She’s got more than that,” Y/N said, brushing a stray hair from her face. “She’s smart and brave, but I don’t want her growing up thinking this life is her only option.”

Lando nodded, leaning against the garden wall. “I’ll talk to her. Set some boundaries.”

“And Jacob?” Y/N asked, her voice softening.

“He’s fine,” Lando said. “He’s more like you—sees the good in everything.”

Y/N smiled at that. “I hope so. The world needs more kindness.”

Lando reached out, pulling her close. “You balance us all out, you know that?”

She looked up at him, her expression tender. “And you protect us. It works.”

As the household settled down, Lando sat in his study, staring at a family photo on his desk. Amelia’s fierce grin mirrored his own, while Jacob’s shy smile was all Y/N.

He couldn’t deny how much his family meant to him. They were his reason for everything—the good, the bad, and the complicated.

When Y/N entered the room, carrying two mugs of tea, he smiled softly.

“Thinking about the kids again?” she asked, sitting beside him.

“Always,” he admitted, taking a sip of tea.

“They’ll be okay, Lando,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “Because they have us.”

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of her presence, Lando believed her.

Thank you for reading!

#f1 au #lando x you #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #dad!lando #mafia!lando #mafia #f1 mafia au #f1 x reader #f1

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barry-j-blupjeans · 6 months ago

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Lucretia would love to say that there wasn't much that surprised her anymore, but that was horribly inaccurate and incredibly easy to prove false. Last week, she had been surprised to tears when Merle held her hand, even though Merle held her hand all the time (he did that even with his memories gone, though it had been much more weird for both of them then). And even two days ago, she had nearly startled herself to hell and back when Angus told her that "you actually don't hide your depression symptoms very well, ma'am" and "maybe you need to seek some professional help? I have some great therapists I can recommend!"

Anyway.

No, Lucretia couldn't say she wasn't hard to surprise. But despite knowing all of that, standing in the tiny living room of Magnus's childhood home, getting hugged by two women whose arms wrapped around her the exact way Magnus's did? Cut her some slack, why wouldn't that be surprising?

"Thank you for staying with him," one of Magnus's moms said— Amelia? Fuck, of course Lucretia knew it was Amelia, she had drawn her dozens of times, recreating and refixing the worn-down photo that Magnus insisted on keeping on him the first few years of their century running from the Hunger.

The words, "but I didn't" got stuck in Lucretia's mouth. She swallowed around the, and couldn't bring herself to do anything more than just nod. Gods. Fuck.

Magnus had been the one to tell her of the Planar Belts. Lup was supposed to have, apparently, but Magnus caught her first. An hour in their home plane wasn't a lot but the seven of them had far grown used to working under weird, constrictive time limits. And while they were still tracking down Lucretia's brother, Magnus's moms hadn't been hard to find at all. Story and Song had stretched across their planar system, yes, but the Hunger had already touched down when it did. And thus, every single planar system inside it heard it, too.

Lucretia had spent a lot of time after that wondering what her brother thought of her. And standing here with Magnus's moms doubled the thoughts' intensity. Would he be proud? Teary, like Amelia? Speechless, like his step-mom? Had he been worried about her? Had he given up on her coming back? Was he even still alive?

A small gust of wind caught against her skin and Lucretia looked up to see they were outside. Gods, she needed to get a grip on herself. How much time had passed? How much time did they have left?

A hand tugged on hers, leading her to sit down. It was Magnus. She settled onto a picnic bench in their back garden, surrounded by dozens and dozens of flowers.

This was not the first time she had been to this house. The memory was old, but the scent of rosemary brought it back. She and Magnus, much, much younger than they were now, still in their Institution days, back when the Institution of Planar Research had yet to tack the "And Exploration" onto the end of their name. They had been roommates for a semester, back when they both started out. Magnus had convinced her to spend Candlenights out here and she had felt much the same as she did now.

Yearning. For her brother, for a life she didn't yet have, and a life she hadn't begun to know.

Helplessness. Away from home for the first time, in the wake of her mother's death and her father's withdrawal into himself. Trying to figure out who she was in the world.

And hopefulness. Winter had been bitter, but it hadn't snowed, and Amelia was, in Magnus's words, "an expert at seasonal plants." Their garden had still been full and lush and while she had been invited to help tend to it, she hadn't wanted to, in fear of breaking something by accident.

That version of herself felt foreign now. How could Lucretia possibly break anything worse than what she had already done to her family?

Magnus nestled into her side as she lifted her head, trying to blink away tears.

"Ma said she's gonna get some new plants," Magnus said. "As 'celebration'." Lucretia snorted a little bit at the way he said it— Amelia Burnsides thought every event, no matter how big or small, was worthy of new plants. "You still like cornflower, right? 'Cause I told her to get cornflower for you."

"I—" Lucretia said, her throat suddenly a little tight. She turned away. Magnus didn't budge, merely wrapping an arm around her and holding tightly. Lucretia cleared her throat, trying to get a hold of herself. But instead of answering, her mouth said, "thank you for staying with me."

Magnus didn't respond, just squeezing her slightly. She wiped at her eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The two suns overlapped like flower petals. The wind chime played a little melody in the wind.

"Cornflowers are good," Lucretia said at last. "It's— tell her that'd be great, Magnus."

"Tell her yourself," Magnus said.

#magnus burnsides #lucretia #taz #taz balance #ise cube writing #mine #enjoy! i've been thinking about them a lot

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lana-llama-in-pajamas · 8 months ago

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thick as blood

sweet as milk

chapter 4 (parts seems juvenile)

a few days have passed and you finally cleaned your home, the bathroom was a lot nicer now and yes to Francis's odd dismay your apartment looked like a green house, today was rainy so you stayed in writing thank you letters to your neighbors.

Francis was at his last stop. he walked up the steps of a very nice new home, one of those buy to build homes he's seen on Sears catalogs (look it up, very cool)

he knocked on the door with his foot as he carried more milk than a normal household would use, the door opened via a very pretty woman in a blue polka dot dress and blue sweater "Francis! you got my call" she opened the door wide as he walked passed her placing the jug crate on the counter "you wouldn't believe how many cakes the school is asking of me" she continued following him in filling up a glass of lemonade "isn't your husband a baker?" he asked nodding as he took the drink from her "he's too held up with catering the convention that rolled in" she answered folding her arms standing across from him "but I did want to spring something up on you...we've known each other for a bit would you say?" she asked almost in a whisper. Francis stopped mid sip nodding slowly thinking of the million things she was about to say "right...you know my daughter Amelia" she walked passed him into the living room, Francis followed even more puzzled "she's 15 now no?" "yes" god why was she being so vague? "sit, please" she pointed to her pristine yellow couch "you see my daughter got a cat and as funny as it is now we're sad to say she's deathly allergic" she awkwardly laughed "you don't know anyone who would want one hm?" he stared blankly at her for a moment mentally cursing her for freaking him out "Joan, I don-...actually I do know someone in the need of a companion" Joan's eyes sparkled a little "great! Johnny bring the cat" she called upstairs and a few moments later a little boy still in his pajamas carried down a small kitten in his arms "milkman! your taking my sisters cat?" he asked running over to him, the poor kitten wiggling around as he did so "yes i am" "but cats are for girrrllss ewww" Johnny laughed passing the poor sleepy thing to him

"I'm giving it to a girl, but no cats are for men too." francis pet it gently "my dad says sooo" the little kid huffed "ok back to your room." Joan pulled his ear on the way back to the hallway going into his room coming back moments later with bags and a litter box "toys, litter, litter box, and food. its still too small for solid foods so, a little baby formula warm water and the kibble should be good" she pointed to each bag explaining how it worked before sitting down on the armchair beside couch. “ so we’re giving it to a girl, not to fit the stereotype, but is this lady in another home you deliver to?”Joan snickered slapping his knee, hoping that Francis will get the joke, Francis kind of did , but like everyone else Joan couldn’t read him “ She’s my door lady. She actually saved the building from an dopple attack a few nights ago.”he told Joan inspecting the small fluff ball “oh wow must be an intimidating woman” Joan said imagining a large gruff woman with a killer stare, if Francis could read her mind he would’ve laughed but he continued “she seems the type to have a pet.” He got up carrying the bags and box on his hip heading for the door “thanks for the gift Mrs. Wilde” Joan got up to open the door for him “Yaknow Francis, in old Viking tradition gifting a cat to a woman is a symbol of courtship” she said raising a brow hoping to fluster the brick wall “…I don’t think she’s of Viking origin” he said back making Joan face palm “but that is interesting, you were a mythology major?” He asked placing the items into his truck wrapping the kitten in a jacket before gently placing it in the passenger side “ I was, but you know how it goes. You think you’re going to live a life of independence and then you get married to a baker.” Joan looked at the horizon saying that. Francis looked at her with a softened gaze before she snapped to reality “sorry, I hope she loves the cat, and I hope the goddess freya doesn’t get any ideas haha” Joan turned around fixing her sweater hearing Francis as she got to her door “…..your still a mythology major.” He turned around getting into the truck driving off. Joan still at the entrance, smiling in acknowledgment.

Back at your apartment, the twins were back gossiping to you about model drama you could barely understand while they randomly asked questions about you, “ oh and Eliza got fatter so now we all have to weigh before booking! Can you believe it?? Let the girl eat a little extra cake at her mom’s funeral!” Selenne laughed sipping her tea “oh speaking of, miss mia wants us to help her with the wedding venue! Everyone in the building is invited. ” Elenois shook you a little clearly excited “I forgot they were fiancées, since they live together anyway” you giggled pouring another cup for everyone “ y/n! You didn’t tell us you were a max traditionalist~” Celine pointed at you, smiling “ of course not it’s just since they live together. My brain just automatically thinks that.” You felt a little embarrassed but the twins were known to make people sweat for fun. “ Miss Mia wants to have it during the summertime so we have a long time to prepare.” Sel sat back looking out the window “ good thing she doesn’t want it during the spring. It’s so rainy here.”

Francis knocked at the door the cat meowing, he knew it was hungry so it was a perfect opportunity to teach y/n how to care for it, you opened the door smiling then looking straight at the dramatic kitten meowing loudly “ you found a cat?” You asked getting on your toes to see it closer making Francis die of cuteness on the inside thinking to himself ‘she really did that almost automatically, how adorable’ mentally slapping himself he lowered his hand passing the kitten to her, y/n didn’t know if the cat was tiny or Francis hands were huge because it really fit in the palm of his hand only it’s a little leg spilling out, grab the sweet thing, putting it to your chest “aww poor baby, I bet your hungry” he spoke softly, almost afraid to burst its ear drums with your normal tone, Francis look down at you now getting the picture.

he was attracted to you.

You were smaller than him which every 1950s man wants from a partner and you look beautiful doing everything mundane like if he took a picture at a random moment, you would look like a model no matter what. As if someone directed you in that exact pose. And you dressed nicely. He Longed to see you in more colorful items, just to see your features shine brighter. He stared at you in his mind lovingly

But you looked back up to see the most stern look with furrowed brows “um…did I say something?” you got nervous stoking the cat for comfort “ the cat is hungry but do not feed it milk. That is a myth.” he spoke plainly opening one of the bags putting the food items on the table “ baby formula, warm water, and a little bit of kibble is good for the cat, what will you name it ?” He asked sounding pretty excited about the name part “ maybe we should feed it first and then think of a name” you said leading him into the kitchen with the supplies “hiii francy” the twins waved as he did back before they giggled to themselves “he was absolutely fucking her with his eyes “ selenne pushed her sister’s shoulder whisper yelling “ shutup, that’s so not appropriate!” El covered her mouth, both trying their hardest not to laugh too loud.

You and Francis came back from letting the cat eat sitting on the couch, the twins took the cat from you to pet and prod, “it might scratch” Francis pointed “ let them, I heard prodding pets is a good thing because it makes them more tempered” y/n poured him some tea “you had pets before?” He asked thanking her for the tea “we need to hear some y/n lore” Sel nodded “ I didn’t have pets, but my grandparents did, dogs cows, sheep, wasn’t a farm. It was more like a ranch. My parents live in the city like this one and they never really liked animals” you said studying your tea leaves “ Where is your family?” El asked rubbing the kittens belly “ across the country, I have a cousin who lives here. They are really busy.” You looked out the window at the rain. You didn’t want to tell them the whole truth. “We can understand, it seems everyone in this building has busy lives, aside from the housewives” Francis said ”your right” you nodded “oh have you heard about the wedding?” El asked Francis “no, wedding? You two are getting married?” He asked a little frantic “no no we’re not throwing out our careers yet. Mia’s and Dr. aftons wedding!” Selenne rolled her eyes “oh, yes the doctor asked me to be in the grooms party, I think his bachelor party will be at the bowling alley” "yeah sounds like Dr. afton" Sel sighed "mia still doesnt know what she wants, but she does wanna vote so we all have fun!" El smiled surveying the room, francis was staring at his tea cup but you were in the conversation completely "anyway we forgot we have a alot of calls to make love ya bye" she placed the kitten in your hands before pulling her sister out of the apartment "lets give the love birds forced time alone" she whispered to her twin closing the door behind them

"odd" francis glanced at the door

"yeah, hope everythings ok" you sighed looking down at the cat as he stared at you

“Name?” Francis asked clearing his throat “no idea…I’ll think about it” you placed the kitten on the couch as it played with the tassels on the pillow “well, I’m going to head home, tell me when you name her, I’m excited to know” he said you got up and smiled walking him to the door “of course Francis, thank you for the gift” you blushed opening the door hoping for anything “Yaknow I heard that a man giving their loved one a cat is a proposal in Norse mythology” he said grabbing your hand and kissing it “but neither of us are of Viking blood I don’t think ” (sorry if you are) he walked to his door and you stared holding your hand kissing it softly to feel his lips in spirit

A few weeks had passed and you were on a late shift again. The cat followed you around the building so in turn she now had a bed in the office, it 9pm and you had to wait for 5 of the residents to come home late from a press party

Natasha was in the office playing with the cat “do you have a name for her yet?” She asked making it chase a mouse on a string “no…suggestions?” You pulled out a list of names residents have considered passing it to the little girl “hm..” she wrote a few names even her own “…no Natasha” you said crossing out hers, she shrugged and went back to the cat, time passed and you got a little worried turning on the radio, the twins giving you which channel had the convention/press party coverage. You listened in, and rolled your eyes at the sounds of officials and other higher ups giving empty speeches, a knock at the door made you jump looking up to see natcha with her arms folded staring at her daughter “so. This is what you do at bedtime now? I thought I had more time before you started sneaking out” she held her temple sighing you got up feeling guilty for not even asking Natasha if she even asked her mom to be with you “I’m sorry I just assumed since it’s Friday um, I should have called you ma’am” you looked down seeing natcha look back at you with the ‘mom look’ “no don’t apologize, I should have checked on her earlier but I was busy cleaning, Natasha. Room. Now. And I’m taking your record player tomorrow” she said it so calmly, no yelling just a sweet calm yet stern tone “aww mom!! I’m gonna be bored all day!” Natasha folded her arms pouting “ too bad so sad. Up.” She pointed out the door and Natasha walked still pouting “so sorry you had to see punish my child y/n” natcha said fixing her house coat “no no don’t worry about, I just wish my parents were as calm as you are” you smiled seeing another resident walk over, Francis looked over “something happen?” He asked standing near natcha at the doorway, you could see her side step to not touch him. Her face contorting slightly but fixing itself “Natasha sneaked out to play with the cat n the doorman” she said side eyeing him “nat? Sneaking out? She’s 11” he said just kind of knowing? You felt your stomach drop a bit…hoping they couldn’t tell “she’s 12 in a week.” Natcha stated before walking off “goodnight everyone.” She went back to her sweet tone, there it was. The way he turned to look at her, it shot you in the heart a bit “your still working?” He asked walking in, the cat rubbing against him purring “a few of the residents are still not here, neither is the night shift” you looked away from him with a sour look on your face, you felt so stupid. You two were not a thing and also haven’t even kissed yet and here you are assuming a broken family and getting jealous of a woman who’s only ever shown you kindness not to mention fed you. Francis could tell you were reeling from something but didn’t know how to approach “…I can make you a coffee, I got donuts from a friend today” he walked over placing his hand on your arm “you look tired” his warm hand and gravily voice from just waking up made you feel better yet worse, “your one to talk” you smiled trying to let go “so mean” he let go “ I’ll be back” he walked off, you watching the way he moved Lowkey checking the sway of his ass but quickly looking away. The cat sat at the desk ‘listening’ to the radio with you as you gave it scritches “what about Lucy? Mimi? Tiger?” You read off the list of names to the feline hoping it would give some type of approval but you were sure if it nodded you would scream. Francis came back placing a coffee and a muffin and donut “pick” he said pointing, you grabbed his hand pointing it to the chocolate muffin “ I don’t want to be up all night via sugar and coffee” you smiled taking a bit “thank you” you covered your mouth he hummed taking the donut kissing your head before walking out. God you want to fly and throw yourself out a window at the same time, two people walked in, the pilots. Both disfigured and grotesque slamming the papers against the window making you jump “let us in. Miss door man.” One said somehow with a stitched mouth “eat my ass.” You said back making the younger one angry trying to get to you through the paper hole. Fuck I ran out of spa

#thats not my neighbour milkman #milkman x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #tnmn fanart #tnmn milkman #fucking tumblr not letting me wrote a real chapter #tumblr I’m kidding I love you

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nayziiz · 8 months ago

Text

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns, pregnancy

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 16

News of Steve and George Russell's arrest sent shockwaves through the underworld and the upper echelons of society alike. The headlines blared the downfall of the notorious crime family, striking fear into the hearts of those who had once cowered under their influence. For Lando, Amelia, and Adam, it was a bittersweet victory, a crucial step in their quest for justice and redemption.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange hue over the skyline of São Paulo, Lando paced the villa's terrace, his mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. Steve's arrest marked a significant milestone in their plan to dismantle the Russell empire, but it also brought a heightened sense of urgency to their mission. With the Russells on the defensive, they would stop at nothing to protect their secrets and retaliate against those who had dared to challenge their reign.

Inside the villa, Amelia sat by the window, her fingers tracing the contours of her growing sixteen week old belly as she watched the city come alive with the glow of streetlights and the hum of nightlife. The weight of their situation pressed heavily upon her shoulders, the reality of impending motherhood mingling with the uncertainty of their future. But amidst the chaos, one thing remained constant – her unwavering faith in Lando and their love, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume them.

Lando's heart swelled with love and pride as he beheld the sight of Amelia's burgeoning baby bump. It was a tangible reminder of the new life growing within her, a symbol of their shared journey and the unbreakable bond they shared. He approached her with a tender smile, his eyes alight with warmth and affection.

“Hey there, little peanut.” He murmured, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “How's our little one doing today?”

Amelia looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of joy and anticipation.

“I think peanut's doing just fine. You want to feel?” She replied, reaching out to caress his cheek.

Lando nodded eagerly, crouching down beside her. He pressed his hand against her belly, feeling the subtle movements of their unborn child beneath his fingertips. It was a moment of pure magic, a connection forged in the silent whispers of their shared dreams and hopes for the future.

“I can't believe we're going to be parents. It feels like just yesterday we were kids ourselves.” Lando murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

Amelia smiled, her gaze softening with affection.

“I know.” She agreed, leaning into his touch. “I really want to go home, Lan.”

“I know, baby. Just a few more weeks so we’re sure it’s safe to go back, then we’re on the first flight out.” Lando's words were filled with reassurance, but Amelia couldn't shake the feeling of longing for the familiarity and security of home.

The past months had been filled with uncertainty and danger, and while they had found temporary refuge in their secluded hideaway, it was far from the comfort of their own home.

“I need to have this baby back home.” She admitted softly, her voice tinged with homesickness.

“You will, just a few more weeks.” Lando murmured, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“I miss my Mom, believe it or not.” She sighed, resting her head against his chest.

As the details of her passing unfolded, it became clear that Marilyn, Amelia’s mother, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when Harold was shot and killed. She had been going about her day, perhaps running errands or attending to her own affairs, when fate cruelly intervened.

“My father said my Nan sent down a whole box of that chocolate you like so much.” Lando informed Amelia, attempting to change the subject.

As Lando attempted to shift the conversation away from the sombre topic of Marilyn's passing, his mention of the chocolate brought a faint smile to Amelia's lips. It was a small gesture, but a welcome distraction from the weight of her recent loss. The thought of indulging in a sweet treat, especially one that held sentimental value, offered a brief respite from the grief that loomed heavy in the air.

As Lando stepped out of the room to make the call, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled in his chest. The distance from home weighed heavily on both him and Amelia, amplifying the usual challenges of pregnancy and adding an extra layer of complexity to their situation. With each passing day, the longing for the familiar comforts of home grew stronger, tugging at their hearts and fueling a deep-seated yearning for the safety and security they had left behind.

With a heavy sigh, Lando dialled his father's number, his mind swirling with a myriad of concerns and uncertainties. He needed guidance, reassurance, anything to ease the burden of responsibility that weighed so heavily upon him. As the call connected, Lando's voice was laced with a hint of apprehension, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions that churned within him.

“Hey, Dad.” He began, his words tinged with a mixture of relief and anxiety. “We need to come home.”

Lando's plea hung heavy in the air as he awaited his father's response, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. He knew the risks involved in returning home prematurely, but the thought of Amelia enduring the challenges of pregnancy without the support of family was unbearable to him.

“I understand, son.” Adam's voice resonated through the phone, his tone weighed down by the gravity of their situation. “But we can't afford to take any chances. You know how dangerous it is right now.”

Lando's jaw tightened as he absorbed his father's words, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at him, knowing that he couldn't provide Amelia with the comfort and reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Dad, she’s pregnant.” Lando insisted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “She needs Mum, and Savannah, and anyone who can just support her through this. Please, Dad. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily between them. Adam's sigh echoed through the phone, a testament to the internal struggle he faced in balancing his desire to protect his family with the undeniable need for support and comfort.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily in the space between Lando and his father, the urgency in his voice underscoring the importance of his plea. Adam's silence spoke volumes, the weight of his own concerns mirrored in the sombre tone of his response.

“I understand, Lando. I'll arrange for a secure escort to ensure Amelia's safety.” Adam replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and determination. "But I need you to promise me that you'll prioritise her safety above all else. There’s a baby to think of now.”

“I promise, Dad. Thank you. It means everything to us.” Lando affirmed, a sense of relief washing over him at the prospect of finally bringing Amelia back home.

As the call ended, Lando felt a sense of resolve settle within him, a renewed determination to do whatever it took to ensure Amelia's well-being.

Lando entered the room, his heart buoyed by the prospect of bringing some relief to Amelia amidst the uncertainty they faced. As he approached her, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, a mix of anticipation and apprehension etched on her features.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted softly, taking her hands in his as he sat down beside her. “I've got some news.”

“What is it?” Amelia looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a blend of curiosity and concern.

“We're going home. Dad’s making all the arrangements now and he’ll let me know once everything has been sorted.” Lando announced, a flicker of excitement dancing in his eyes.

“Really?” A wave of relief washed over Amelia, her tense shoulders relaxing as the weight of uncertainty began to lift.

Lando nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. Tears welled in Amelia's eyes, a mix of gratitude and overwhelming emotion swelling within her.

“Thank you, Lando. Thank you for everything.” She choked as she tried to hold back her tears.

Wrapping her in a warm embrace, Lando held her close, his heart swelling with love and determination.

As the jet's door swung open, the familiar sights and sounds of London greeted Lando and Amelia, signalling their return to the place they called home. Max Fewtrell, Lando's trusted childhood friend, stood at the ready by the armoured SUV, his expression a mix of relief and anticipation as he awaited their arrival. With practised ease, Lando emerged first, swiftly retrieving their luggage before returning to assist Amelia down the steps of the jet.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of Amelia's unmistakable baby bump, a visible symbol of the new chapter awaiting the couple. His expression softened into a warm smile as he approached, offering a hand to help Amelia onto solid ground once more.

“Welcome back. Looks like I arrived just in time to see the next generation of troublemakers in the making.” Max greeted, his voice laced with genuine warmth and excitement.

“Thanks, Max. Flip, have I missed you.” Amelia chuckled softly, a hint of exhaustion mingling with the overwhelming sense of gratitude flooding her senses.

With Max's help, they made their way to the waiting SUV, ready to embark on the next leg of their journey home. As they settled into the familiar comforts of the vehicle, a sense of hope and anticipation filled the air, a testament to the unwavering bond shared between friends and the promise of new beginnings on the horizon.

As they settled into the SUV, Max couldn't contain his curiosity, prompting him to broach the topic that had been swirling in his mind since he laid eyes on Amelia's baby bump.

“So, a baby?” Max inquired, his tone a mix of surprise and genuine interest.

“Yep, a little surprise that kept our spirits up while we were away.” Lando's smile widened at Max's reaction, a flicker of pride evident in his eyes.

“How far along are you?” Max's eyebrows shot up in amazement.

“Just over sixteen weeks.” Amelia replied, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and tenderness as she glanced at Lando, beaming with impending fatherhood pride in the passenger seat.

“Wow, you two were away for a long time.” Max remarked, a hint of playful teasing in his tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Missed you too, mate. But now that we're back, we've got some catching up to do.” Lando chuckled in response, reaching over to give Max a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Your parents are going to do somersaults about their new grandbaby.” Max remarked, causing both Lando and Amelia to chuckle in response.

Almost an hour later, Max pulled up in front of the Norris family home and almost instantly, Lando’s family came rushing out from his father, to his mother, to his sisters and brother. Lando got out in a haste to open the back door of the SUV for Amelia to step out.

As Amelia stepped out of the SUV, she was greeted by the enthusiastic embrace of Lando's family. His sisters, in particular, were ecstatic to see her and the baby bump. They showered her with hugs and affection, their excitement palpable as they welcomed her into their home.

“Amelia, you're glowing!” Lando's mother exclaimed, her eyes shimmering with joy at the sight of her son's partner.

“We've been waiting for this moment for so long.” Flo, one of Lando's sisters chimed in, her smile radiant with happiness.

Amelia felt overwhelmed by the warmth and love emanating from Lando's family. Despite the challenges they had faced, being surrounded by such genuine affection filled her with a sense of comfort and belonging. She exchanged grateful smiles with Lando, silently acknowledging that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

“Careful, girls. There’s special cargo in that belly.” Lando’s mother, Cisca, warned her daughter as Adam wrapped his arms around his son and kept him tight against him.

As Lando's family continued to fuss over Amelia and the baby bump, his mother's gentle reminder brought a sense of protective unity to the moment. Cisca's words served as a subtle reminder to everyone that Amelia and the unborn baby were precious cargo, deserving of extra care and consideration.

Adam's embrace around Lando spoke volumes, conveying both love and a silent promise of protection. In that moment, Lando felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his family's unwavering support. They had been through so much together, and yet, here they were, embracing the future with open arms and loving hearts.

With his father's reassuring presence anchoring him, Lando felt a renewed sense of determination to ensure the safety and well-being of Amelia and their growing family.

“You did a great job, son, keeping her safe.” Adam acknowledged as he whispered into Lando’s ear.

“Thanks, Dad. And, thank you for your help.” Lando told his Dad.

“Amelia, dear, what do you need?” Cisca asked Amelia as she led her into the house.

As Lando and Amelia made their way into the house, the warmth of familiarity enveloped them. The comforting scent of home-cooked food filled the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia and anticipation for the meal ahead. Despite the challenges they had faced during their time away, being back in the familiar embrace of family brought a sense of peace and reassurance.

“Just a hot shower for now.” Amelia chuckled, keeping her exhaustion at bay.

“You do that, sweetie. I have a full roast going at the moment. I assumed you kids haven’t had a real home cooked meal in a while.” Cisca assured Ameli and Lando.

“That sounds lovely, Mum.” Lando smiled. “I’ll take Amelia up and get her settled and we’ll come down for dinner.”

As had become a norm in their relationship, Lando ran the shower allowing it to heat up for her. Amelia caught Lando's gaze lingering on her as she undressed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Despite the familiarity of their relationship, there was still an undeniable spark between them that never failed to ignite a rush of warmth and affection.

“Not as hot as you thought I’d be pregnant?” She wondered, suddenly self-conscious like she had been all the times he paraded his model ex-flings.

“The exact opposite, actually. You’re beautiful, Amelia.” He assured her and then proceeded to place a loving kiss on her lips.

With a teasing glint in her eyes, Amelia stepped into the shower, feeling the warm water cascade over her skin, washing away the weariness of their journey and leaving her feeling refreshed and invigorated. She closed her eyes, relishing in the sensation, until she felt Lando's presence behind her, his strong arms enveloping her in a gentle embrace.

As he began to massage shampoo into her hair, his touch was tender and intimate, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She leaned back against him, letting herself melt into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against her back as they stood together beneath the soothing stream of water.

In that moment, with the comforting sound of the shower filling the room and Lando's reassuring presence surrounding her, Amelia couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for the man standing beside her. Despite the challenges they had faced, their bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the strength of their connection and the depth of their love. And as she turned to meet his gaze, her heart swelled with a profound sense of contentment, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be - finally out of the shadows.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 drivers #f1 driver x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader

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snapghoul · 3 months ago

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Snap I have to know how does sereshaw get together or do they need a little push from some friends, because I could totally see someone working something just get those two together

Don’t worry Sunshine I got you.

Before I get into it. Here’s a bit more about the twin AU world, focusing especially on the Top Gun elements. First, Ice is still alive—his death in the original storyline was a real blow, so I’ve kept him around. Slider is also present, though he’s retired. In this AU, Maverick and Penny aren’t romantically involved. Instead, Maverick assumes a fatherly role for everyone, stepping in to support Amelia as she navigates life without her own dad. There’s a touch of Icemav in this AU, just a hint, and I absolutely cherish it.

This head canon can also be stand alone.

Jake and Bradley's relationship was tumultuous from the start, shifting from rivals to friends, then lovers, to exes, back to rivals, and eventually to lovers again. They first got together after graduating from the naval academy, initially sparring as rivals until they realized their feelings ran deeper. Bradley made the first move, and their first kiss came while they were still in their dress blues. They enjoyed a few months of dancing together before they were stationed at separate locations. The distance was manageable at first, but after nearly six months without seeing each other, the strain became evident.

Jake knew almost everything about Bradley, and when Bradley was assigned to Top Gun, he became intensely focused on surpassing Maverick. This obsession strained their relationship, leading to its end. Bradley's refusal to explain his relentless drive to outfly the legendary Maverick created a rift, especially since Jake was unaware that Maverick was Bradley's surrogate father. It’s a topic Bradley keeps closest to his heart.

Despite their rocky past, Jake and Bradley still have lingering feelings for each other. After the events of the film, Coyote, ever the perceptive wingman, straightforwardly told Jake to give their relationship another shot. The Daggers all noticed the way they still gravitated toward each other, especially evident when Bradley’s remark, "You look... good," fooled no one. Phoenix, though playfully exasperated that Bradley had chosen Jake, also supported the reunion. She recognized that Bradley brings out Jake's true self, the genuine Jake Seresin, rather than the persona of Hangman.

Currently in the twin au, Bradley is in Oklahoma with Jake to visit Tyler. Although they remain cautious and cling to their safe spaces, both still a little nervous to make the move, afraid they’ll ruin their chance again. Being outside the military environment has helped them gain a bit more confidence, especially Bradley.

Now that Bradley has reconnected with him, Maverick, feeling like a weary old man, insists he's not the person to ask for relationship advice. However, he's always willing to listen to Bradley vent over the phone.

“Hangman? Really? Out of everyone?” Maverick asked, lounging in one of the mismatched chairs in his hangar.

“Mav, I don’t think you’re in a position to judge. Don’t make me call Slider—he’ll be more than happy to give examples. Or maybe I’ll call Ice.”

“Please don’t.”

#seresin twins #jake hangman seresin #twisters #glen powell #tyler owens #top gun maverick #glen powell tyler owens #twisters movie #sereshaw #hangman x rooster #top gun hangman #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #snapsasks

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engie-ivy · 1 year ago

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(I don't write from Sirius' perspective often, mostly prefer writing Remus being smitten with Sirius😋, but I couldn't resist some Padfoot & Prongs friendship! Of course Sirius and Remus are still smitten with each other😉)

1675 words.

Sirius hates waking up early. Sirius definitely hates being woken up early to talk about Remus' bloody ex. But the tea James brings might just be worth getting up early for...

Morning Tea

Sirius is still half asleep when he opens the door, wearing the old sweater he threw on when he heard the knocking, bleary eyed and his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Morning!” James says cheerfully, wearing a crisp button-down and big sunglasses, carrying two paper cups with steam coming from them. He looks fresh and awake, and much, much too cheerful, because of course James Potter is a Morning Person.

“Wha-?” Sirius says groggily.

James is already walking past him into Sirius’ apartment, shoving one of the cups in Sirius’ hand in the process. “I’ve got some tea for you that needs to be served while it’s hot!”

Sirius sniffs the cup. “This is coffee.”

James turns back around in the hallway and looks at Sirius from over the top of his sunglasses. “Metaphorical tea, Padfoot, metaphorical tea.”

When Sirius steps into his kitchen, James is already sitting at the table.

“So,” James begins the moment Sirius sits down. “Lily came over for dinner yesterday-”

“Right. How was she? Has she-”

“Not important right now,” James cuts him off. “Come on, Padfoot, focus!”

Deciding that staying silent is probably the best approach, Sirius takes a careful sip from his coffee.

“So, Lily came over, and she told me she had spent the day at Marlene’s,” James continues. “And as she was there, Mary dropped by to return some shirt she had borrowed from Marlene, and Lily said that Mary then had quite the story to tell them!”

James’ eyes sparkle with excitement, and Sirius begins to feel something approaching curiosity through the fog of sleepiness.

“Mary had a Pilates class the other day, and afterwards, she and Amelia- you know that Mary takes Pilates classes with Amelia, right?- well, she and Amelia went to get coffee afterwards.”

Sirius does his best to keep track of it all. Lily, who was at Marlene’s with Mary, who had Pilates class, and then coffee, with Amelia, and- who the hell even is Amelia? The name sounds vaguely familiar, but as James does not seem to appreciate questions interrupting his story, Sirius decides to just wait to see where he’s going with it.

“Now Amelia was meeting her brother later, so while Mary was having coffee with her, at some point Edgar actually joined them.”

Edgar.

Of course, that’s how they know Amelia. She’s Edgar’s sister. And Sirius definitely remembers Edgar. Remus’ ex.

“Edgar,” Sirius says in a slightly-trying-too-hard-to-be-casual voice. “How is he?”

The look James gives him lets Sirius know he’s not fooled. James doesn’t comment on it, though. “He’s good,” he replies. “Mary mentioned to him that she actually hadn’t talked to him since the break-up.”

That seems obvious to Sirius. And perfectly fine. Remus was their only connection to Edgar. The last thing he needs is Edgar coming back into their lives. Coming back into Remus’ life.

“So Mary asked him why they broke up, you know, because we’ve never heard his side of the story.”

“Who cares about his side of the story?” Sirius snaps. “We’re Remus’ friends, not Edgar’s. Remus’ side is our side.”

“Of course, of course,” James says, holding up a hand placatingly. “But Remus hasn’t been telling us much, now has he? He doesn’t really talk about the break-up.”

“He said they wanted different things,” Sirius replies curtly. Good enough an explanation for him. He’s fine with not talking about it further. He’s fine with pretending the whole Edgar-saga didn’t happen.

“That can mean a lot of things,” James says, and then he seems to suddenly remember something. “And do you know what Marlene said Dorcas told her? The other week, the Art History group organised some beginning-of-the-semester drinks that she and Remus both went to, and you know what Dorcas is like when she gets tipsy, the girl has no filter. She kept pestering Remus about what exactly had happened between him and Edgar, wouldn’t let it go, and eventually, Remus told her to drop it, because it was something he did not want to talk about!”

James looks at Sirius expectantly, like he’s supposed to be baffled by this revelation.

Sirius just blinks at him.

James sighs. “Don’t you see, Padfoot? That proves there’s more to the story than what Remus has been telling us!”

“Fine,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s hear it then. What did Edgar have to say?”

“Well, having heard this story from Dorcas, Mary wanted-”

“I thought she heard the story from Marlene?”

“Lily told me that Marlene told her about the party while Mary was there, yes,” James says, sounding like a parent explaining something to their child for the tenth time and trying, unsuccessfully, to hide their exasperation. “But Mary had already heard about it before from Dorcas, so she already knew about Remus’ evasiveness while she was talking to Edgar, while Lily didn’t hear about Dorcas’ chat with Remus until Marlene told the story, which she only did because Mary was telling her story about her chat with Edgar.”

Sirius isn’t even gonna try. It’s too damn early for this, especially before he’s even finished his first cup of coffee.

“So like I said,” James continues. “Mary knew there’s something about the break-up Remus has been keeping from us, and she wanted to know what Edgar had to say,” James leans forward over the kitchen table with a big smile on his face. “And guess what Edgar said about why he broke up with Remus?”

“He finally realized Remus is much too good for him and he doesn’t deserve him?” Sirius offers.

James’ smile just grows. “Even better. He said they broke up because... Remus was clearly already in love with his friend!” James sits back on his chair crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Sirius with a triumphant grin.

Sirius tries his best to keep his face neutral and ignore the somersaults his stomach is making. “Remus has a lot of friends,” he says, in what he hopes is a calm voice, not meeting James’ gaze, choosing instead to focus on pulling at a loose thread at the sleeve of his sweater.

James rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll play along and I’ll give you that one. Remus does have a lot of friends. But lucky for us, Mary is like a dog with a bone, and she wasn’t just going to drop it. So she asked Edgar what made him think that, to which Edgar replied, and I quote,” James thinks about it for a moment, and then corrects “Well, I quote Lily, who quoted Mary, who quoted Edgar, but still, I quote ‘when we went to his friend’s piano recital, Remus was looking at him with so much fondness, he never looked at me like that, and at Remus’ dissertation, Remus met his gaze every time he got nervous and he was the first person Remus ran up to and hugged after he got his doctorate, and at Lily’s party, from the moment he got there, it was like Remus didn’t notice anyone else in the room anymore’. So,” James says smugly. “Tell me, how many friends does Remus have who play piano recitals, were the first one to hug Dr Lupin, and arrived a bit late at Lily’s party?”

“One,” Sirius mumbles, still focused on the loose thread hanging from his sleeve, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“And that is...”

“Me,” Sirius replies, then he lifts his head to look at James. “But still Prongs! That’s just Edgar’s perception! Maybe he’s overly jealous, or completely paranoid, and seeing things that aren’t there. Those things don’t have to be true!”

“But they are true!” James counters. He shakes his head. “I never really thought about it before, maybe because I’m used to it, but you are the only one Remus looks at like you’re the centre of the bloody universe, you are the face Remus always searches in the crowd, and you are the only person Remus sees whenever you enter a room!”

Sirius bites his lip. “None of that stopped him from dating Edgar in the first place.” Because Sirius hasn’t forgotten how he once before allowed himself to believe that maybe Remus felt the same way about him as he feels about Remus, and how it lead to him being completely blind-sighted when Remus started dating Edgar.

James sighs. “Maybe Remus didn’t realise his feelings before.”

“Before?”

The grin returns on James’ face. “Yes, after Edgar told Mary his story, Mary said she was sorry,-”

Sirius can understand that. He can’t think of anything worse ever happening to anyone than losing Remus.

“-but Edgar told her it’s fine,” James says eagerly. “He said they had a good break-up. He confronted Remus with his suspicions, and then Remus opened up to him, they had a good talk, and parted as friends.”

As Sirius stays silent, James exclaims “Remus opened up to him, Padfoot! Not Remus denied it, not Remus said he was being ridiculous, no, Remus opened up to him! That’s basically Remus admitting it’s true!”

The smile on James’ face is contagious and Sirius can feel one beginning to spread over his own face. He covers his face with his hands, but can’t hide the smile. “Prongs...”

“I know, Padfoot, I know!”

Sirius lowers his hands, grinning like an idiot. “What do I do, Prongs?”

James leans forward over the table and strokes his chin in thought. “Well, I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I’ve come up with an ingenious plan that, if executed correctly, might prove successful...”

“What’s that?” Sirius asks.

James smacks him on the head. “Ask him out, you plonker!”

“Sirius Black awake before ten?” Remus gasps in pretend-shock the moment he answers the phone. “Should I be worried?”

Sirius just loves hearing the laughter in Remus’ voice. A warm feeling spreads across his chest simply upon hearing that voice. God, he’s really got it bad, doesn’t he?

“Well, Rem,” Sirius says. “As it turns out, some things are worth waking up early for.”

#my tumblr writing #smitten sirius black #pining sirius black #good friend james potter #morning person james potter #gossip james potter #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

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The Parent Trap | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“Alright! They’re here.” Maverick drops the curtain back into place and turns back towards his granddaughters. “Be cool.”

Peyton looks up, scrunches her nose just a fraction — she takes a moment to analyse what this might entail. Maverick sits back against the couch and opens his book up, picking a random page a couple of chapters in, settling into his position. Parker settles in equally easily, she drops down so that she’s sitting cross-crossed and immediately gets to work penciling in answers on her worksheet. Peyton inhales, then almost forgets to exhale, her mind racing as the sound of footsteps on the porch ring out over the top of Maverick’s soft soul album playing.

Finally, she drops down next to her sister and grabs a pencil.

“It’s been forever since I’ve seen Mav,” You muse, breathing out softly as you follow Bradley up onto the porch. It’s been forever since you’ve even been here, you’ve only seen Maverick a handful of times since you divorced Rooster. He was always kind to you. “He might not even recognise me.” You joke.

Rooster almost scoffs. Recognise you? — He hardly ever shuts up about you. It’s a good thing, probably, that his friends and family are so fond of you. It means he picked a good person to share his life with. It just makes things even more difficult now that the two of you have decided to go your own ways.

“He’s not that old.” Rooster settles with instead, keeping things lighthearted as he turns the door handle and opens the front door. He steps in first and holds the door open behind him for you. Taking a few steps forwards, he has a good view into the living room on the left.

The girls are both sitting on the floor, working on some school work together. Peyton’s helping her sister with math. Maverick is reading a fictional romance novel. One of Penny’s. Peyton is way worse than Parker at math. Damn it.

Maverick glances up from his book and even through the suddenly blurred lenses of his reading glasses, he can see the disappointment on Rooster’s face. Busted. But, as far as Rooster knows, this just means that the three of them spent the afternoon having fun and watching TV. Which isn’t entirely incorrect.

“Hi, Mav.” You step around Rooster sheepishly and lift your hand, waving it at him. Rooster looks you up and down, brows scrunching slightly. This is the man who drove you to the hospital when you were in labour and Rooster was an hour away in traffic. The same one who held you whilst you sobbed at the thought of not being a good enough mother and told you it was all going to be okay. The first person that the two of you told you were expecting.

And here you are, acting like he has become a stranger.

There are lots of aspects of divorce that hurt more than Rooster was expecting them to. Those hour long gaps in his Sundays now that he doesn’t have to go and put gas in your car. Getting home from work on a night that the girls are with you and his home being empty.

Now, Rooster doesn’t have much of a family. It was just Mav for a little while, and then Penny and Amelia came along. But, then he had you — and the girls, and you were all a big family. Now, Maverick is someone that you can only awkwardly say hello to. No longer family.

“Hey, honey! How’ve you been?” The book is discarded and Maverick is pushing himself up off of the couch, arms opened and walking towards you. Your body unstiffens, exhaling quickly as you let him envelope you in a hug. It takes everything in you not to rush out a pained ‘oh my god, I thought you hated me’.

Your mind jumbles, searching for the right words as Maverick squeezes you. He’s greyer than the last time you saw him, he still smells like the same cologne he wore when you met him. That means Penny’s still unsuccessful in making him stop buying the same pine scented spray that he wore in the eighties.

“Good! I’m — busy, but I’m good.” You manage out. He pulls back to look at you, catching your arms like you’ll disappear again if he doesn’t ground you right here with him. He looks over your face fondly. Both of you a little bit older, probably none the wiser.

Pete grins and nods his head. “I’m glad, I’m so glad.”

Rooster looks between the two of you, then back at the kids looking up at them curiously. As he glances back to Maverick, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before the old man starts spouting off some crap about how the two of you would probably be happier together.

“Mav, could we have a second alone with the kids? — We still have to get them home before their bedtime and stuff.” Rooster reminds his uncle gentle. Maverick jumps to his senses and pulls back nodding.

“Oh, right. Of course. I’ll — I’m going to go and start making dinner for Penny. I’ll be in the kitchen.” As he turns, his back to the two of you, his eyes on the kids, Maverick gives them an overzealous wink. It’s up to them from here on out. Then, he leaves and heads for the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

Bradley moves first. He walks calmly into the living room and sits down in front of the two of them. You follow suit. There’s a beat of silence, the four of you looking at each other.

Finally, you’re the first to speak. “First, your dad and I just wanted to say that we’re glad you two can talk to each other, and that you wanted to help out your sister. But you know that this was completely the wrong way to go about it. Right?”

“We know…” Peyton agrees dejectedly, guilt in her tone and her body language as she twirls her pencil between her fingers.

You do your best not to make it a lecture, knowing that they’ll just zone out if you drone on at them too much. They’re still little and long lectures can be draining on their developing minds. You do your best to engage, asking them questions, keeping them involved.

It’s clear that they know what they did was wrong. You’ve got a sneaking feeling that this probably won’t be the last time they do something like it, but for now it’s resolved either way.

They’re going to write an apology to their teachers for switching classes again. You and Rooster had been texting about this all afternoon, you’ve considered making them write an apology to William — but he’s kind of a little asshole and his mother is even worse.

You check your watch and it’s already a little after seven. Their bedtime is eight. Luckily, Mav gave them dinner, so all you have to do is get them home and into bed. Then, you can get started with the mountain of work that you have left to do tonight.

“Alright, go say goodnight to Grandpa Mav, we should get going.”

“Can I drive home with Dad?” Parker asks suddenly. A quick glance towards your ex-husband, clearly tired after the day, relaxed back against the couch. He moved a while ago, complaining that sitting on the floor was hurting his back. You shake your head quickly.

“No, not today. It’s out of his way, and you two need to get to bed soon.”

“I just wanted to talk to him about the stuff with Billy,” She turns those big brown eyes towards Rooster and looks up at him, guilt filled and sorrowful. “I feel bad for not telling you about it. Can we talk?”

You open your mouth to correct her. Rooster, already suckered, sits forwards and nods his head. “Yeah, Peanut. We can talk about it.”

“You don’t have to, I mean, it’s—“

“It’s alright, I can take them back with me and we’ll just meet you at your place.” Rooster decides, running his fingers through his auburn hair and sitting up, readying to stand.

For the millionth time that day, your children catch you off guard. Peyton looks up, scowling, completely serious as she shouts, “No, I want to go with Mom!”

Rooster glances across at you, then back at her. Ultimately, he shrugs — it has been a long day and the twins’ favourite parent switches up routinely, he has learned to just take it in his stride. “Alright, so we’ll take one each. Just me and you, Parks.”

You’re more skeptical of this behavior, and your daughters recognise it immediately. You squint as you look between the two of them, and their sweet little faces. They’re probably up to something, but like their dad, you’re exhausted and don’t have time to investigate.

“Okay. One each.” You agree with a tired shrug, pushing yourself up from the floor. The girls rush off to say their goodbyes to Maverick, Bradley thanks him for watching them, then you’re all bundling out to the cars. You pause at the realization that Rooster has his bronco.

He catches your scowl as you pass him one of the booster seats. “She’ll be fine, I’ll drive slow.”

“I can take her, it’s not a problem.” You shake your head at the thought of her climbing up into that almost fifty year old, mostly metal, box. Rooster has always defended that truck to you, insisting that it’s safe. Still, you had made him buy something safer for when he has the kids. Their booster seats are still in the backseat of the fourth gen dodge Ram on his driveway, he never takes them in this.

“I’m going with Dad.” Parker insists. You both turn, looking up to find her already climbing on the side of the truck, having lifted herself up onto the step, now struggling to get the door open.

“We’ll see you at your place.” Rooster nods. With that, he turns away from you and wraps and arm around Parker’s middle, scooping her off of the side of his truck and opening the door with her under one arm.

You swallow softly and slide into the driver’s side of your car. Before you’ve even turned the key in the ignition, Peyton pipes up from behind you. “Was it weird being at Grandpa Mav’s house? — Did you guys used to be friends?”

“Alright, you buckled in?” Rooster looks up and checks his rear view mirror, finding his daughter’s smiling face looking back at him. He misses seeing those faces every day. She nods calmly and tugs at the seatbelt to prove it. Rooster nods, turning the radio down a little so that he’ll be able to hear her. The soft top cover will help, since the wind won’t be in their ears.

“Did you see that Mommy got her hair cut? — I like it like that, it’s pretty.” Parker comments, dragging her backpack across the seat towards her and starting to rifle through it as Bradley pulls away from the curb. He glances up at her through the mirror, brows scrunching just slightly, lips quirked.

“I thought we were going to talk about this Billy kid.” He reminds her.

“We are,” She shrugs her shoulders and pulls her notebook from the backpack, along with a blue pencil. “I’m just saying, Mommy looked really pretty today, don’t you think?”

“Your Mom always looks pretty. Just like you, Peanut.” At first glance, it’s a nice thing to say. But, it’s what he always says. With the two of them sharing so many of your features, he’d never dream of saying anything bad about the way you look. Not that he has anything bad to say anyway. Still, Parker is looking for something a little better than that.

She stares at him, squinting for a moment, then persists. “Yeah. But don’t you think she looks especially pretty now?”

Rooster glances up again, lips quirking more, brows scrunching in amused confusion at the serious expression on her face. “Yeah, I guess. — What’s this about?”

“I’m just asking. Don’t you think about Mom when you aren’t with her?” Parker frowns, folding her arms over her chest. Rooster pulls to a stop at a red light and looks back at his daughter, baffled. He always knew that getting a divorce was going to bring up some questions from the kids, he just wasn’t expecting this level of interrogation today.

He gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I think about you guys all the time. Y’know, how you’re doing, if you’re safe—“

“No, not us. Mommy.” Parker interrupts. Rooster glances back again, finding her staring back at him with her pencil resting on the page, her expression impatient. He pulls away from the now green light and shifts in his seat, completely confused.

“Um… yeah, I guess I think about her when we aren’t together. Parks, where’s all this coming from?” He frowns.

“Nowhere. So, anyway… Billy.” She tosses the notebook to the side and rests her hands in her lap.

Peyton twirls a curl around her finger, bopping her head to the lyrics of a song from the noughties. “I just think it’s cool that Daddy gets to fly planes. Did you think it was cool when you met him?”

When you met Rooster, you were still a bartender, working part time in a local boutique. You worked for Penny back then. You were somewhat young, especially impressionable — and he was perfect. Tanned skin, sunglasses and sea-salt tangled curls, asking you how your weekend was going every week.

Listening to your stories, asking you out, telling you about his adventures. It was all so quick in the beginning and yes, he was so cool.

“He was alright.” You answer back, glancing up into the rear view mirror with a soft smile toying at your lips. Peyton grins, she knows what that means.

She’s heard this story a million times and yet she asks again, “What was your first date like?”

Things with Rooster had never been exactly traditional. You’d already slept with him a couple of times before he finally murmured into your skin that he wanted to take you out for real, that he needed to know more about you.

But, that aspect obviously remains between just you and Rooster. You tell your kids about the date by the beach, him trying to impress you with somewhat of a picnic. Pushing him over in the water, him carrying you back to the car when you cut your foot on a rock by the shore.

He was so attentive in the beginning.

By the time you’re pulling onto the driveway, you check the rear view mirror and Peyton’s got her head leaned against the car door, lips parted, dead asleep. You smile softly, shaking your head as you unbuckle yourself and let yourself out.

Rooster pulls up as you close the door behind you. He turns off the ignition and hops down from the truck, standing under the glow of a streetlight.

“Parker’s asleep, I’ll carry her in.” He calls to you, already walking around to grab her door. You shake your head fondly as you turn back towards your car.

“Peyton too.” You chuckle.

Rooster unbuckles his daughter and lifts her into one of his arms, grabbing her backpack from the backseat with the other. He tucks her in against his side, her head lulling onto his shoulder, not stirring from her sleep in the slightest.

You groan as you hoist Peyton up onto your hip, struggling to balance her and shut the car door at the same time. It tugs at your heart strings as you realise out loud, “They’re going to be too big for us to do this soon.”

Rooster chuckles and steps around you to shut the car door for you. He makes it look so easy. “No, they’re going to be too big for you to do this soon. I’ve got a couple more years.”

You hug her closer to you, struggling to keep her tight against you, wondering when she got so big as you fumble for your keys in the tight back pocket of your shorts.

“I’ve got it.” Nudging your wrist out of the way, Rooster dips his hand into your back pocket and takes the keys. It’s a quick interaction, probably not him trying to cop a feel — it’s too fleeting for that, but it leaves you stunned nonetheless. He works the door open and glances back to check that you’re coming, still balancing your daughter with ease as he sets the keys on the end table inside.

Realising quickly that you must look like an idiot just standing there and staring at him, your feet carry you forwards and you kick the door shut behind you. He carries Parker up the stairs ahead of you. It hasn’t been that long since he lived here, it looks kind of different — the pictures on the stairway wall are different, but not unfamiliar.

He rounds the corner and pushes the door to their room open. Now, this is different. White walls dotted with little painted blue flowers, big-girl beds. Long gone is the nursery and toddler furniture that the two of you had filled this room with. It makes sense, their room at his place isn’t that different from this one, but still, he wonders why you didn’t ask him to help.

He sets Parker down on the bed closest to the door, slipping her shoes off of her feet and dropping them down to the floor beside her bedside table. The room would be bigger if they had bunk beds, but after last summer’s top bunk fight, you had forever abandoned that idea.

“I’ll go switch the car seats back over, if you wanna get them ready for bed.” Rooster says gently as you walk past him to set Peyton down in her own bed. You lift your head and nod gratefully at him across the dark room. Leaning forwards, you flick the switch for Peyton’s nightlight, it’s soft white glow illuminating the room enough for you to see the smile on his face.

“Thanks. Could you come back in afterwards? — I wanted to talk to you about something.” You’re busy unlacing Peyton’s tennis shoe and so you don’t notice the elated smile that’s on her face as she feigns unconsciousness. Rooster nods calmly.

“Sure. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Getting them both into their pyjamas, tucking them safely under their covers and slipping their respective stuffed animals in with them, kissing them both goodnight, it’s all part of the usual routine. Rooster’s leaning against the kitchen counter when you return back downstairs, arms folded over his chest as he frowns at the sink.

Slowly, you come to a stop a little bit away from him, unsure of how to say what comes next. You inhale, fiddling with your hands in front of you. He isn’t even looking at you, it’s like he knows already.

“Does it always drip like that?” He asks, pushing himself up and crossing the room to inspect the faucet. Your lips part, brows furrowing slightly. You hadn’t even noticed. He cranes his neck to get a better look. “You should’ve said, I can fix it this weekend or something, if you’re around.”

“Um… I actually wanted to see if you were free this weekend.” You explain calmly. Parker’s mouth gapes open as she and her sister huddle together at the bottom of the stairs, trying to listen to the soft conversation happening a room away. Rooster glances at you over his shoulder, just as taken back by the idea as his kids are. “There’s someone that I want you to meet.”

Rooster turns around to face you, leaning back against the counter and resting his hands on the wooden countertop. “Me? — Who would you want - Oh. You’re seeing someone?”

Realisation covers his face; it’s neither a good or bad reaction, and after years of knowing him as intimately as you do - did - you wish you could tell. You try to act as natural as he does about it.

“Well, I’ve been on a few dates with someone,” You explain gently. It’s a sensitive topic, telling your ex that you’re trying to move on. You’re not naive, you know that Rooster has hooked up with people since the divorce, you have too. But it’s different now, it’s bigger. “I really like him, and I’m thinking of introducing him to the girls. But I want you to meet him first.”

Parker slaps a hand over her sister’s mouth to contain the gasp, both of them ducking behind the railing by the stairs, like they won’t be seen through the gaps. They exchange looks, a thousand thoughts at once, plans being drawn up internally already.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, bar the sound of the faucet dripping behind him. His eyes, a dark hickory, search over your features. It’s unclear exactly what answer he’s searching for in your expression, but it doesn’t take him long to find it.

“Alright,” He nods his head. He signed those divorce papers just like you did. He was there for the custody hearing, the division of assets, explaining it to the kids. Rooster’s been present and aware of what this divorce means every step of the way. It’s been two years of pretty much radio silence. Neither one of you have exactly hidden the little flings you’ve had in the meantime, but you’ve kept that from the kids and you haven’t made a point of telling each other either.

Rooster’s trusted your judgment for as long as he has known you. If you think you’ve found someone worth introducing to the kids, then he should be happy. It wouldn’t be fair to hold you back.

He gives another curt nod, “That’s… it’s great. Congratulations.”

Your racing heart settles just slightly at his approval. Its pace slows but the pounding remains the same as you slowly raise your eyebrows at him. “So, this weekend?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m free.” He agrees, nodding his head slowly. He taps his fingers on the countertops and glances around the home that the two of you had bought together just under a decade ago, silently wondering if your new boyfriend has been over.

It’s nothing to be upset about, the divorce was for the best, you both agreed that there shouldn’t be any hard feelings about it — these things happen. But, still.

“So, what’s he like?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet. “Um… well, he’s a carpenter, and he owns a DIY place down the street from my store. His name’s Chris, he’s about our age. He’s nice, I think you two would get along.”

Not a convict, not too old or too young for you, owns his own business. Rooster can’t find much to complain about. Peyton’s brows furrow as she waits for her dad to fix this, to tell you to stop seeing that guy and be with him instead. Rooster’s face softens as he nods his head again.

“He sounds great,” He decides finally, his voice gentle as he takes a step towards you and opens his arms. “I’m really happy for you.”

You exhale deeply, relieved as he wraps you in a loose hug, every fibre of the interaction platonic. Just as quickly as you’re tucked in his strong, warm arms, he lets you go again.

“Text me a time and a place, the three of us can do something this weekend,” Rooster brushes some loose curls back off of his forehead and squeezes your arm as he steps past. Parker sighs, leaning her head back, crushed. He’s doing it all wrong. “And… um, thanks for keeping me in the loop about all this. I really appreciate it.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile as you nod at him. His footsteps grow closer, reminding the girls that they’re supposed to be in bed. It’s a quiet scramble, trying not to trip over each other as they race back to their bedroom.

…

@fadingbelieverexpert @jessirosebud @cowboybarbie @pinkpantheris @thedroneranger @a-serene-place-to-be @xoxabs88xox @unordinare

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic

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fleet-of-fiction · 10 months ago

Text

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Six

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

A/N: This particular chapter includes themes of extremely dark thoughts. Including thoughts of ending life. This is integral for the storyline. Does not reflect the writers personal thoughts or feelings towards triggering potential readers as it is not their intention to do so. So please, proceed with caution, as always. And if you don't wish to read such themes please do not read this chapter.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 470 ~ Jake

She looked so peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were rolling around behind closed lids. And even though I wondered what she was dreaming about, I didn't dare wake her. There was just something unsettling about trying to sleep in other people's houses and I had never slept well a single night until I found her.

I saw no reason to wake her just to tell her I was going back to the music room. I figured she would hear me as soon as dawn broke and come looking for me. Now that I'd picked up a guitar again, it was like I was being called to arms. The need to play was a welcome and not a melancholy reminder anymore.

In the early hours of morning it still felt as if the world was asleep. That everyone was still tucked up in their beds, just a few hours away from alarm clocks going off and coffee pots being switched on. It was easy to forget at this time, easy to pretend that we were the only ones left. I sometimes liked to wake up early just to catch that feeling.

It was still dark outside as I set myself up on one of the amps. I turned the volume right down and closed the door. Strumming a few notes but not playing anything in particular. I couldn't set myself to something I'd already played, and was still figuring out how to create something now on my own. It still felt strange not having Josh stood there telling me it needed to be a little faster or slower. Or Sam picking which one of us he was going to agree with that day, my heart sinking if he'd chosen Josh. Our mediator sitting behind his drums diligently tapping away if the conversation got a little too heated. I hadn't really given much thought to how much I missed Danny. But now that I was staring at the old drum kit by the window, I realised that I did miss him.

I wasn't really paying attention to the window behind. Or the pair of eyes watching me. My mind was stepping back in time, trying to think of old riffs that I'd abandoned. It wasn't until they moved that I almost dropped the guitar straight onto my foot. Something I'd never done before.

"Holy shit!!!" I cursed, reeling back as the eyes reflected in the light from inside the house.

I couldn't see much, other than a pair of roving circles peering in. I could feel my breath catch in my chest, panic begin to rise. I knew it wasn't human by the way it moved, only a foot or so off the ground and far too prowl- like to belong to any man or woman.

"What the fuck are you?" I wondered aloud, slowly inching towards the glass as if it could somehow reach me through it.

My heart was pumping blood so quickly around my body that I dizzied as I stood. Terrified that whatever it was could somehow get inside and get to Amelia before I could. As I drew closer I could hear the sound of a pitiful whine over the roar of the breeze. And although it was dark, and the reflection of the room was all I could see, the sound reminded me of something I'd heard before.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, switching off the lamp so that I could better see through the dark, the eyes which watched me immediately fading into the morning pitch black.

How many times had I been foolish in my life? When I thought about it, I could raise a nostalgic smile at the boy who had gone into dive bars before he was old enough to drink in them and played guitar while fights broke out around him. And I could consider all the times I'd cliff jumped into abandoned quarries and somehow crawled back out with my life intact. All the times I'd made myself look stupid in front of girls I liked. Done something or said something to make them think I was an idiot. Or not said something at all, the most foolish thing I could do.

Perhaps none of it was quite as thoughtless as what I did that morning. I checked on Amelia before I grabbed my jacket and went outside. She was still right where I left her, unmoved. I had thought that I might take a walk around the perimeter of the house. See if the creature was still out there.

I didn't think what would happen, could happen. Of all the risks I'd taken in my life, I never envisioned that I'd end up where I did. It was still a little cold as I buttoned up. I could see my breath as the light began to creep in from behind clouds. The wind was enough to move my hair, but moved only gently through the tree's above. A soft white noise soundtracked my steps as I traversed around the heavy woodland surrounding the house.

Until I found myself at the back yard. Staring at the window to the room where I'd just been playing guitar. Not a soul in sight.

"I'll be damned." I whispered to myself, certain that I'd find something.

I knew that what I'd seen I couldn't have imagined. I'd tripped so many times before, I knew the difference between what was real and imagined. I started moving towards the glass, watching my own reflection approach until I could clearly see the guitar right where I had almost dropped it onto my foot.

Dumbfounded. A little spooked, even. I could feel the hairs on my forearms prickle.

"I know there's something out here." I told myself.

Almost as if I was inviting it, I could feel something at my back. I slowly turned. Fear and foolishness gripping me by the throat. I backed up against the window pane. Not one set of eyes, but several stepped out from behind the trees. And I knew I was cornered.

"Clever." I remarked under my breath. "You weren't hurt at all, were you?"

I wondered if they smelled my fear. If they could hear the rush of blood through my veins as my heart pumped faster. There was nowhere for me to run. I scanned across every possible route and all of them were guarded closely by snarling teeth and renegade desires to feed.

If this was how I met my end all I could think of was Amelia. Sleeping soundly, lost in dreams only to wake to find that I was no longer there. I could feel the raging heart in my chest break as I imagined her finding them gnawing away at my corpse. Terrified that I wouldn't be enough to fill their bellies, and that they'd lure her out to die too.

Once they'd been loyal pets. Wearing collars and leashes. They would come when their masters called and chase balls when they were thrown. Settle in front of warm fireplaces and have their bellies rubbed if they rolled over. I could see it in their eyes. The pack mentality that had been suppressed for generations, the wolves in their blood howling to return to their most basic of natures. They were evolving. Growing tactful in their hunt. Luring out their prey under false pretences.

"Easy, now." I said, holding flat palms in front of me, wondering if they would respond to hearing commands they might have forgotten. "Good dogs. Sit...Stay..."

The dog that had appeared to me first cocked his head to the side a little. He was a big, imposing Shepherd breed. With a long nose and a set of sharp teeth on display. His hair was all matted underneath, an old wound still healing on his front leg. None of the dogs sat at my command. I had no control.

"No!" I warned bluntly, "There's a good boy now, Sit!"

It was as if they knew the words but couldn't recall what they meant. Standing in a semi-circle against me. I could see the smaller dogs behind, a counter-pack of terriers and spaniels. It was as if they knew the bigger dogs would have the most impact and had chosen their place in the flanks. To my left was a jet black Dobermann, clipped ears pinned back as it waited for instruction. To my right was a blue eyed Husky with the fairest white mane. Beautiful, if it weren't threatening to tear me limb from limb. And directly in front was my adversary. The Shepherd.

"I know you're hungry." I reasoned, some irrational part of my brain convinced somehow that they would understand. "I can help you, we can find food together. Just don't hurt me."

I wondered why they hesitated. If their hunger was so absolute why didn't they attack on sight? What were they waiting for? They knew I couldn't run. Were they enjoying this? Taking delight in their hunt? What could have possibly made them approach like this, without taking me down in one mass attack?

"Oh my god."

I felt my stomach turn as the penny dropped. I had been lured out there. I was just a pawn in their attempts to lure more food out. There wasn't enough meat on my bones to feed them all. And they knew that.

"You can't have her." I promised, "So, you're just going to have to feast on me."

I'd barely considered what had happened to the dogs that were left behind. I'd crossed paths with a few of them during my time on the road. Some of them would regard me, but rarely approach. Lost in their own wondering of where their beloved people had gone. Some would approach me cautiously, in the endless pursuit of food. But not like this. This was calculated. Organised.

"Jake?!"

Her voice called out from the distance. I could see their ears turn. Saliva dripping from their jowls.

"Please, Jake!!!" She screamed, tortured by my unexplained absence.

Every instinct in me had to fight not to call back. Her begging cries called out to me like a beacon alighted on the mountainside. It was my duty to respond, to let her know that I was still here.

"You keep your eyes on me, you hear?"

I'd never wanted anything more than to see her turn that corner and know that I would never willingly choose to leave her. But if she did, she courted death. Did I want her to live in a world without me? Better to have thought I had vanished than died.

Somehow I found the courage to run. And to my utter horror and relief, they followed.

Day 473 ~ Amelia

I could hear the bird song in the morning light. Another day to exist in a place where once he had. It didn't feel like it had the first time, when everyone else had disappeared. This was more crucifying than anything I could have ever endured before. This wasn't just figuring out how to live on my own, this was figuring out how to do it knowing that I had loved someone else so deeply I wanted only to die.

I walked back to the cabin without him. The acoustic guitar he had played Broken Bells on for me tucked beneath my arm as I made the journey alone. What had begun as such a wholesome idea, ended with me losing him. And I regretted the choice to take him up to that forsaken house. Never had I regretted anything more.

I looked at the spaces where once he'd dwelled. Felt his presence like a ghost that haunted me. Echoes of his voice calling out on the wind, keeping me from sleep in the night and my mind elsewhere during the day. I was keeping the animals fed, but barely functioning. And on the third day without him, I began to consider that I did not want this life.

Day 475 ~ Amelia

The rot had set in. The chickens clucked in their coop. The horses whined in their stables. And I laid in the same sheets that still carried his scent as I stared out of the window. Watching clouds pass over the canopy of trees. Wishing that I could just float away. There was no meaning to any of it anymore. I longed for that same end which had come to everyone, save me.

With Jake, it had been easy to forget that I'd been forsaken. Forgotten. Left behind, or spared. Whichever was the truth, none of it mattered whilst I had him by my side. It was him and it was me, this was ours. A solitary place for us to live out our days until we were old and had forgotten that once we'd live in a world where other people had.

I couldn't do this without him. And so I kept myself wrapped in bed sheets where he'd made love to me before and the fabric still carried the memory of his body. If only me and this bed sheet remembered him it meant that once he'd been real. And I could die knowing that wherever he was, perhaps I'd reach him in death.

Day 477 ~ Amelia

I kicked the corpse of the chicken I had starved to death. Moving it's lifeless body with the edge of my foot as I threw down some feed for the ones who had made it through my grief. I had long since brushed my hair or my teeth. The heavy weight of losing Jake mirrored in the depth of the dark circles beneath my eyes, my pallor was grey. I had not eaten in days and the thought of plucking the dead chicken for meat turned my stomach, so I threw it out into the woods and hoped some creature would find it a tasty meal.

I wasn't living. And the concept of no longer being here began to feel like a gift that I would be giving myself. I didn't want any of this anymore without Jake. Where once there'd been hope that I could do this alone, in it's place was just memories of him that hurt so badly I could scarcely go a day without clutching my belly and falling to my knees. Wailing into the ether where none could hear me.

This wasn't life. It was purgatory. Just a gateway between life and death. My heart was still inexplicably beating. But without purpose. And I was tired of it. For seven days I had tried and failed to carry on without him and for seven days I had carried a strength I could no longer bear. If I was weak, then I'd walk into that weakness willingly and with the knowledge that I had tried. And the only hope that I had left was that which told me that Jake waited for me on the other side.

The version of him that I had imagined was all that I had left. I had loved him so much that I had known that losing him would completely eradicate all my desire to live. There was no amount of time that I could have had with him that would have ever been enough. And the moments which we had shared now felt like only one or two stitches on what could have been a rich tapestry. If I didn't live, there would be nobody left to remember him. But if I lived, I would remember him. And that in itself was the most cruel of fates.

Day 478 ~ Amelia

Today. I had considered it enough. Today was going to be my final day on earth. And although the manner within which I would unravel from my mortal coil had not been determined, I knew that by the time the sun began to set that I'd be set within my death.

I woke early. There were signs of spring in the air as I showered and dressed. The air a little warmer. The sun rising a little earlier. And I finally brushed my hair and teeth. Making sure that I went to my end with a little dignity. I tended to the animals and although I wasn't quite sure why, knowing their end would be as bitter as mine, it felt good to be doing something useful again.

I ate a small breakfast of scrambled eggs and drank a cup of hot coffee. I took a blanket out onto the porch swing and read a few chapters of a book that I'd neglected. All things which I would have done on any other uneventful day. And as I looked up from my pages, I tried to imagine Jake chopping wood on the block opposite the porch.

His wide swing circling back, the axe in both hands. His hair blowing in the breeze, and a look of absolute satisfaction on his lips as the axe blew the wood apart. The back of his hand rested against his forehead as he began to sweat, even though the temperatures outside were far too cool.

I stared into the brush, the green and the brown and the bark of the tree's all lining up to create the forest floor beyond. Listening to the soft bird call and wind through the leaves. I put my book down and decided to just sit there a while and take it all in while I could.

Everything was perfectly still. As if it had paused itself in the wake of my decision to leave it all behind. I almost felt as if I couldn't have picked a more perfect day. I was calm, perhaps too calm.

"I really wish you were here." I said, my eyes roving around the beauty of the forest for one last time.

That was when I saw it. Emerging from beyond what my eye could see. I squinted into it. Not certain at first, convinced that I was imagining it. I slid off the porch swing and advanced down the steps. Something moved between the tree's. Something that wasn't swaying in the breeze or part of the natural order of things. It was dark at first, just a spectre that I couldn't clearly define.

"Jake?!" I said his name before I even knew that it was him.

His name on the breeze called to him. He moved more swiftly, moving aside the shrubbery with his bare hands as he began to run. And I, too, began to run on bare feet into the woods.

"Jake!!!" I screamed it, aching to reach him before I would be torn from this sweetest of dreams.

I purged myself of the love I had for him. Roaring in sobs that came to me unbound as I reached him in a small clearing just beyond the cabin boundary. Over those biting sobs, there was no sound. I buried my face into the curve of his hollow neck. Whatever had been locked inside me, spilling out against his flesh. I cried without thought or regard. I had no control over it, the days of struggle all seemed to converge until I cried hopelessly and fiercely into him.

He clutched me tightly. Refusing to let him see my face, I forced myself to stay against his chest. This dream I would not wake from. If I looked into his eyes I would know it wasn't real and I was not ready to give it up. I would let him hold me for as long as I could hold on to him. And I would cherish the sweetness of such a vivid untruth. It was all but a dream, just a dream...

"Amelia..." He uttered.

"No..." I hushed. "Don't speak, don't wake me."

Birds stirred in the distance. Somewhere the breeze picked up, and I could hear the slither of it through leaves that had fallen onto the ground. Picking them up in a vain attempt to return them to the air.

"Amelia, my love...open your eyes." He urged, that familiar touch of his hand coming to rest on my cheek.

I had cried enough. There were no tears left. But when I opened my eyes, they continued regardless. Not sobs of grief, but quiet droplets of something which I had no name for.

"Jake." I repeated in whisper, although he wasn't the Jake of my memory.

He was changed. The hair which used to flow down over his beautiful face had been chopped just above his shoulders. Rough stubble pebbled his upper lip and chin. But the eyes which bore down into me were the same. I would have known those eyes even if he had changed beyond all recognition. His arms felt the same, too. A mixture of desire and urgency and restraint. And for one still moment I took in the sight of him, before venomous anger took over.

I struck him once. Cold and hard across his jawline. He turned his face away but did not buckle with the blow. I had probably not struck him hard enough, or perhaps he had been expecting it. He didn't release me, and I was glad. And when he turned back, his face had not changed. As if he'd felt nothing. Or perhaps, he'd felt worse and this was nothing in comparison.

"I deserved that." He breathed, the sound of his voice filling me such relief I almost died right there just as I had planned to.

If I had known in that moment what it was within his mind, perhaps I would have prepared myself better. As much as anyone can be prepared for a kiss that they never thought they would have again.

He clasped me harder, his hands crushing my arms as he pulled me into him. He turned his head slightly, too swiftly for me to consider it. As if he had never been in any doubt that this would be how we would reunite. He brushed his lips against mine. Softly at first, those eyes probing me for the briefest moment for permission of sorts. And then he kissed me harder, deeper and with fierce conviction. Whatever small part I had in this kiss, I knew it was my place to submit to it. He pushed his body against mine, his mouth opening and showing me that nothing else mattered.

I fought against his tongue. Wanting it so badly, but too full of wondering to let him have too much of it. I let him have a moment of it. And not a second more.

"Jake, please..." I pulled back, holding his face between my palms as I studied the sunken cheekbones beneath his dark eyes. "You've been gone for eight days."

"I know." He replied, "And for eight days I've been trying to get back to you."

I didn't understand, couldn't fathom what he had been through. Somehow it was etched there in his emaciated face. A struggle I would never be able to share the depth of with him. And he, in return, would never be able to follow me into mine.

"I don't understand." I muttered, turning his face this way and that to try and see a hint of what it had cost him to return to me. "I thought you had....vanished."

"You think that I would choose to leave you?" He simpered, taking another kiss as we began to rise. "That's not a choice I ever thought I'd have to make. But I did. And I would do it again a thousand times to keep you safe."

There would be time enough for explanations. He was weary. Dishevelled and somehow traumatised. And so I silently led him back to the cabin, my arm around his waist. The outline of his ribs against my hand. And any thought of my own death somehow completely gone from me.

Day 479 ~ Jake

She was a sight for sore eyes. Resting her little head on my chest. Hair fanned out across my arm, the scent of it like pine and moss. I was showered and she'd made food for me. Silently eating it as she sat beside me at the kitchen table, stroking my hair and looking at me as if she'd never seen anything more precious to her.

No sooner had I pushed my empty plate aside, she'd taken my hand and told me to get in bed. And I'd insisted that she crawl in beside me. Folding herself up into my side like she'd always belonged there. And for the first time in eight days I felt rested.

"You haven't asked me what happened out there." I mentioned, resting my cheek against her crown.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." She replied, sighing deeply as she swept her fingertips across my stomach.

I could see a madness in her that hadn't been there before. I tried to imagine what it had been like for her, but my thoughts always fell short. She was quiet. I kept catching her gazing at me as if she couldn't quite believe that I was there. She'd even sat with me as I showered, handing me the soap and watching the dirt slide off my back.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I did tell you." I surmised, running my hand down her spine, feeling her body shift as she turned to look at me.

"Try me." She answered, calm and collected, as if we were talking about a T.V show we'd watched. "I've considered everything. Driven myself mad with it."

"I know." I replied softly, "You didn't deserve that. But what's happening out there... it's unlike anything that we could have been prepared for."

Her interest piqued, she raised herself up onto an elbow and furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean? Out there?" She said, "How far did you go?"

I didn't have a distance that I could tell her in numbers. Only that I'd gone beyond where my scent could be traced back. Days and nights of running, being hunted. The pack were smart. Even when I'd climbed tree's to avoid their eye line, they'd lingered on the forest floor picking up the scent of me and waiting for me to make my next move.

I knew that if I went back to the cabin they'd follow me there. I had to get them far enough away and lose them so that I could circle back without bringing them with me. On the fourth day I lost them, their senses distracted, and it had taken another four days to get back.

"We need to secure the perimeters of the cabin. Make sure the livestock is safe. That nothing can get in." I told her, my voice unintentionally rising to panic.

"Why?!" She asked, "What happened, Jake? You're scaring me."

There would be time enough to tell her. That the creatures we'd once held so dear had gone back to their most basic bloodlines. That the wild animals were welcoming their domestic kin back into the fold. That the wolves had descended, but not as we remembered them. They were just regular dogs. Like the one my brother had loved and kept. Her name was Rose and she had slept on my bunk in the tour bus, sniffling in my guitar cases for treats. The softest, most loving creature I had ever known. And I just couldn't picture her a snarling, starving mess with dripping fangs and a taste for blood.

But somehow I knew she was out there, trying to survive if she hadn't already died.

"I'll tell you, baby." I promised, pulling her back onto my chest, not certain I could look her in the eye as I spoke.

All I wanted to do was hold her. Remind myself why I'd risked everything. She listened to me and hummed in agreeance to everything I said. Gasping in disbelief at my tale of pursuit. She would circle her fingers over my navel as she listened, drawing little intakes of breath from me as I tried to paint her a vivid picture until I had to give in to her.

No more talking. No more desperately trying to cling on to the fact that I'd made it back home to her. What was any of it for if not for the sweetness of her body? Her kiss? I wanted to reunite with her in the only way that I could. Pushing her onto her back, striking my thumb across her cheek as I swept her hair away from her face.

"Why'd you chop your beautiful hair off, Jake?" She asked, picking up a tendril of what used to sit on my collar bone.

"That's how I managed to fool them." I replied, nodding into a smiling kiss. "I cut my hair and scattered it for them to confuse my scent. Once they were distracted, I managed to put a few miles between us."

The way she looked at me made my heart rush. Every empty space without her filled with a warmth that felt like home. She looked at me as if I held the world in my hands for her. I was the one who made it turn.

"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again, Jacob."

She meant it. Stoic and steadfast, she didn't miss a beat.

"No Ma'am." I replied, sinking into a kiss that made my cock start to awaken to the possibility of that proper reunion.

She wasted no time. Climbing on top of me, letting her hair fall. Her perfect breasts pushed up against my chest as she kissed me. Blood pumped harder in my veins. My body somehow awakening the strength to wrap my arms around her and spin her onto her back. She squealed with joy. Her laughter filling my senses like music I'd never heard before.

And I forgot everything that had happened before that sweet moment.

Day 479 ~ Amelia

My man. My quick thinking silent protector. He was mine. And as he laid me down beneath him I'd never felt more safe. The scent of his freshly washed body, the lines of bones that now protruded signalled his struggle and I held them close to me as he parted my legs.

The nightmares we'd had could wait. I welcomed him between my thighs and let him push his hard cock into my desperately wet pussy that had pined for him just as much as my heart had. Soon he was writhing above me, panting for breath and sealing his lips to my nipples as he thrusted against me. And I forgot that I'd wanted to die. The invisible thread which kept me tethered to this life had returned to me. And I could never tell him what I'd intended to do.

"Fuck, I missed you...I missed this." He breathed the words against my chest, sliding his tongue across the valley of my breasts.

There was nothing more erotic than the sweet reunion of lovers who had never known that they would ever meet again. In the world we'd once lived in, a call or a text would have eased our worried minds. But without so much as a letter to be delivered, I'd lived in a state of unknowing. It felt almost unreal to have him bared to me, making love to me in a bed he'd been wholly absent from.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me. I wanted to drop mine on him. To feel the bitterness that had kept us apart dissipate in the feral moans that rang out from that bedroom of ours.

"Never again Jake..." I made him swear. "Don't you ever leave me again... Don't leave me alone in this world."

He was breathless and covered in sweat. His and mine. Pussy juice and the cum which had leaked from his tip smeared across our bodies. The gentle rhythm of our love making turning into fierce sex that would bring us to completion.

The depth of his despair was in the way he looked at me then. He took my hair in his fist, holding me still. My legs spread wide for him, his hips grinding into me as if he couldn't bear it.

"I'll die before I ever leave you alone, my love." He whispered solemnly, pressing his mouth against my ear.

"Now hush." He ordered, "And take what I have to give you..."

I could only submit to the violent way he fucked me. Screaming his name into the night. And somewhere in the distance, under the light of the full moon, a wolf howled into the wind...

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader

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jackiequick · 1 month ago

Text

In fifty years, will all this be declassified? | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Pairing: Amelia M. Parker & Grant Ward (WardParker)

Summary: In other words, suffering is worse than falling down low..

Characters feature/mentioned: Kara Palamas, Melissa Wallace, Marlene Kassdy, The Young Avengers

Timeline: Set a year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Agents Of Shield Season 2 (2014-2015)

Warning: Mentions of torture, blood, needles, heartbreak and fighting

Fic Type: Angst

——

A/N: Goodness, someone help them all. Also sorry if it's a long fic! I hope you enjoy it ;) And yes I reference a Taylor Swift song as the title hehe

Inspired by: Agents Of Shield 2x21/22

—

Dry pastel lit color faded between the clouds, as the soft yet grime shades filled the room.

The air thick with dust and the distant sound of wind howling against the cracked windows. A mild, yet faint screeching pierced the silence, mingling with the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere in the shadows.

The autumn chill that sinked though the cracks of the door made its way towards her body, responding her eyes to slowly flutter open. She squinted her eyes turning her around to see the area she was set in.

Confusion wrapped around her like a mask; the last thing she remembered was sifting through the scattered remnants of an old agent’s life in a deserted apartment, searching for files that could’ve been used for other purposes.

It was darkly and dimly lit when she made herself present in that apartment reaching for the last lines of the forgotten report, hearing a soft thud, a shadow looming behind her—then nothing.

Amelia blinked, forcing her mind to piece together the fragments, but all she grasp was the nagging dull pain against her neck. Her fingers twitching waking themselves up only to hit a wooden board. She glanced down to noticed her wrists were against a table, yet her ankles were tied backwards to the chair.

She tugged against the restraints, but they held firm, the rough fibers biting into her skin. Panic clawed at her throat as she took in her surroundings: the rusted beams overhead, the scattered debris underfoot, and the faint light filtering through the grime-coated windows.

With every strained breath, the cold air seeped deeper into her bones, heightening her senses. The screeching outside grew louder, mingling with the pounding of her heart.

Just then, a door creaked open somewhere in the warehouse, and her breath caught in her throat. Amelia huffed and winced catching sight of who it was.

Grant Ward.

Following behind him was Agent 33, Kara Palamas, an a former SHIELD agent. Her was brain given some deep suffering, due to memory loss from Daniel Whitehall and of course she was helped afterward, tested by Fitzsimmons, then she left again. More or less…

Grant smiled sitting across the table from her. One of fingers lightly pushes a strand of hair away from Amelia’s face to see her clearly. Grant will never admit it but he didn’t like having her kidnapped, but he needed SHIELD to reveal any information that had on the Projects and Daniel Whitehall.

Amelia was one of SHIELD most well known and possibly active agents they had. According to the rumor mill she was loved and appreciated, having help put The Young Avengers together, being his co-captain in the very beginning of Coulson’s team back in 2013 and the list went on.

But he knew that Amelia Parker only scratched the surface, of the people she was surrounded by. He knew that none of the recruits and so-called friends truly cared for her, watched her six. If they did care, they would’ve found her by now. Hell, Agent Hill was the one who pushed her senseless into being the agent she was today.

The poor workaholic agent who was pushed to the brink of it all, making the choices to see the good in others and step in to put herself in danger for the sake of the people around her.

For the sake of the mission.

Pushing down all the hurt and blame for her own sake. Taking the hits, making the kills and watching the ones she cared for suffer.

All Grant wanted to do was keep her safe, have her join him in the mist of SHIELD’s fall back in 2014 and live on the run. But she refused to stay with him.

Because her loyalty was too high and her trust in others were on the balancing act of being destroy right before her eyes.

And yet, here she sat in front of him, her own green eyes staring right into his brown ones.

“Hi baby.” He said in a calm low tone.

She held a tight calm smile as she responded, “Hi.

“I’mma cut to the chase. You do know why you’re here, right?”

“Cause you miss me, hon?”

Kara, who was standing a few steps behind Grant, crossed her arms and held back a scoff at her remark. She knew the two had history, which annoyed her completely.

“Miss you? That’s a bold assumption,” Kara shot back, forcing the humor even as her pulse raced slightly.

Grant leaned forward, the smile fading as he studied her. “You’re in a warehouse, tied to a chair. I don’t want to play games, Ames.”

Kara shifted, her posture rigid as she eyed Amelia. “You don’t have to protect her anymore, Grant. She’s not one of us…”

“Not one of us?” Amelia echoed, the bite in her voice sharper than she intended. “You think that just because you’re playing for a different side now, it makes you less of a traitor?”

Kara bristled, but Grant raised a hand, silencing the tension in the room. “This isn’t about sides,” he said, his tone even but strained. “It’s about information. SHIELD’s been sitting on something big, and I need you to help me find it.”

Amelia’s mind raced at the thought. The thought of betraying her former team sent a chill through her. “And what if I refuse? What makes you think I will help you?”

He leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. “Then you’ll stay here. And trust me, we both know I always find another way to get what I need. But it won’t be pretty for you.”

“Is that a threat, baby?”

“Call it a promise. I said don’t ever want to hurt you, Ames, not again, but if it comes to it, I will.”

Amelia’s eyes fell of Kara and exhaled, “And her?”

Grant noticed her gaze and leaned backwards. His expression turned serious as he said, “Kara, is none of your concern.”

“Liar. What is it that I did that so wrong to her?”

Kara shifted and met her gaze, leaning forward with a slight glare. “You know what you did, you're responsible for my kidnapping, you and Wallace had my location rigid and led me to Whitehall. When I did escape, Marlene and the others were late to get me back to base. I was tortured and enslaved for what felt like ages!”

Amelia’s eyes darted as she shifted, trying to stand up from her chair. She snarled, “The location was rigid to begin with! It wasn’t mine or Melissa’s fault. It was none of our faults!”

“Then apologize!”

“For a miscommunication? I did weeks ago!”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“..why have it be just me? Not strap Melissa or anyone else to a chair?”

That’s when Kara allowed a small smirk to appear on her face.

“Because. Melissa will just give me a snarky remark and scream, she’s not trained for the physical and mental discomfort across the body. But you are.” Kara explained to Amelia.

Amelia’s eyes darted back to Ward with a warning tone. “Grant.” She muttered.

Grant stood from his seat and grabbed a device from the wall as he contained the explanation to a minimum, “We’re using you as an advantage here, Ames. If we want SHIELD to give us what they want as well and see a piece of them crumble, why not have one of their finest agents be the representation of it all?”

“Which means?” Amelia asked.

“We will keep you here.” Kara said, “In result, disorient the other agents such as Melissa, Marlene and your precious boyfriend, who I bet has no idea that your gone, into running around in rampage looking for you. The more pain you inflect, will give the others no choice but to give us the information needed.”

Amelia’s heart raced with a mix of fear and defiance as the words hung in the air.

She scoffed as a small smile broke across her face. A shake chuckle escaped her hips for whatever reason. “You’re both just petty and delusional.” Amelia remarked. “Even if it I am not found by them, and I’m tortured. You realize that The Young Avengers will get concerned and try to find me, right?”

Grant crossed his arms and shook her head, as he strapped a wires and tightened the chair a bit more. Beforehand, he used anesthetic to remove any sensation of pain from Morse-Parker, however the sensation of the shockwaves and needles will be an unbearable pain, hitting her body all at once.

Kara claimed to many beforehand, that was the pain she felt when she was harmed by Whitehall and when she regained control of her mind once again.

When no one answered her remarked about The Young Avengers—Liane, Rick, Rochelle, Cole and the others—would grow panicked and try to find her, it was a clear as day response. They were too busy and selfish to care for others’s turmoil to save them. Kara and Grant convey that answer by just exchanging a glance at Amelia.

Amelia's heart raced, a mixture of defiance and dread coursing through her veins. “You really think that will work? You’re underestimating them.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, masking the worry gnawing at her.

Grant tightened the straps, his brow furrowed with frustration. “It’s not about underestimating them. It’s about making them desperate.”

Kara’s smirk faded as she stepped closer. “You think they care enough to risk everything for you? They’ve got their own battles to fight. You’re just a pawn in this game, Amelia.”

The weight of her words hit harder than any blow. Memories of laughter and camaraderie flashed through Amelia’s mind, but the shadows of doubt loomed larger. She shook her head, unwilling to let them see her falter. “You’re wrong. They won’t stop searching for me.”

Grant leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “And if they do find you, what then? You think they’ll storm in here and rescue you? They don’t even know where you are.”

Kara stepped closer, her voice low and chilling. “They’ll waste time chasing ghosts, and by the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late.”

-----

A silence fell, heavy with unspoken truths. Amelia felt the chill in the air deepen, a reminder of her vulnerability as the hours went by. She felt herself growing hungry and weak by the second, as her eyes tried their hardest to not give into the weight and close themselves.

Deep into the night, the weight of Grant and Kara’s words hit pierced harder than any words. Every moment spent in the room, tied to the chair, her wrists trying to wiggle out of the restrains and the needles digging into her fingers send an engulfing pain across her body. The wires sending shockwaves through her body, were just as bad, she could practically taste the metal in the air, under her skin.

Amelia was on the brink of giving into the pain and torment, that she was lost caused. She wasn’t going to be saved. That Kara and Grant were right. She was fool to think SHIELD and The Young Avengers—her friends—would care to save her. To release any evidence in hopes of having her come back to them.

That loyalty and trust that tied her to her team was slipping between her fingers.

She could’ve sworn she heard typing of a laptop and invoices being messaged between the two in another room, whenever Kara or Grant weren’t inside with her. She could hear Grant’s low murmur, the occasional sharp retort from Kara. The sound of certain agents from the messages, such as Marlene, her voice was faintly heard, so was Melissa. A flicker of Jeremy’s tone of voice and a few others that she didn’t quite recognize.

She wondered if Jeremy was negotiating a deal to the data on Whitehall or some kind of information in general. She wondered if Melissa trying to relocate the trace of the phone's pattern to her location, or maybe Marlene had just threaten to murder Ward.

Gods know what the others on the line must've been discussing.

However nothing from The Young Avengers.

As for their mouths moving? Conversation between the three echo though the warehouse, a mixture of screams, snarky remarks, and words that were sharper than a knife. Grant was one of the few people, who knew her better than anyone, he had a hand in training her and sense her downfall from a mile away.

He knew that she knows that there was no one coming from her. And if they did. They would be too late, suffering the lost of someone who they assumed, they care for deeply. It was a twisted symphony of betrayal and desperation that echoed around her, each note driving the point home: she was alone.

Speaking of echos being said, at one point, when Amelia refused to once again to apologize to Kara, the closure to heal according to Grant, the brunette slapped Amelia across the face before she walked around the chair with a wicked smirk.

“If you want a nice view of my ass, sweetheart, that will be...” Amelia said in a slight witty tone, however her voice trailed off, hearing the sound of fabric and a wince of a blade, “..what is she doing?”

Grant didn’t let her swift her neck around to see the damage about to inflect upon her, instead snatching her chin under his fingers, forcing her to face him. For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, a hint of regret flickering in his brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Ames. We can work this out—” He said in a soft tone.

“No.“ Amelia cut him off, her tone resolute, almost shaking in a hush tone, “Not like this..”

Before she can even repeat her words, a sharp passing of a knife slide across the back of her knees, her inner knees, as she let out a deep whine. She squeezed her eyes and gasped breathing heavily, her chest rising and fall, due to the action taking place. Her eyes water as she gulped, catching Grant’s gaze as she tried to wipe her face towards Kara.

Amelia’s breath came in ragged gasps, the pain radiating through her legs, refusing to show weakness, however it was clear. Grant’s grip on her chin tightened, his gaze searching hers for a flicker of compliance.

Kara stepped closer, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You really think you’re in control here? You’re tied up, and your friends are miles away. This is your reality now.”

Amelia felt the weight of her words sink in, but she wouldn’t give in just yet. “And if I break? If I give they what you want? What happens then?”

She shrugged, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Maybe we’ll let you go. Maybe I won’t. It all depends on how entertaining you are.”

Before Amelia could respond, Grant’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “Enough, Kara. This isn’t a game.”

Kara rolled her eyes, dismissing his concern. “Oh please, Grant. You’re not her keeper. She made her choices.”

Amelia’s eyes flickered between the pair. Despite Grant’s protectiveness over her, he was true as day that he cared for Kara just the same. He may claim to still love her, but his heart had made space for Kara. She scoffed, honestly, with how delusional they both were, they desires each other.

“Choices?” Amelia scoffed, her voice steady despite the pain. “Um, I didn’t choose to be here, and you know it.”

Grant’s jaw tightened, a mix of frustration and a hint of guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t want this for you, Amelia. I wanted to protect you.”

“By letting Kara and yourself torture me?” she shot back, her gaze unwavering. “You’re not protecting me, Grant. You lied to me once, you’ll do it again.”

He always said that one thing, she will understand everything he ever done, but she won’t. One look from Kara and Grant, and she realized she was more than a pawn, in this sick game. She’s the queen. The moment she decide to cooperate or her teammates come and find her, give them any information about Whitehall, the game changes.

If she might even survive this.

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

The hours went by, no help, no hope of salvation—none.

It was hopeless.

She whimpered and winced, gasping for air as her fingers were being pierced by needles and her body was attached to the wires from earlier. She has been yelled at, bleeding and bruised.

She was purely shaking at this point. At least she was able to convince Ward to release her ankles for some breathing room. However, she was cold. From her feet to her toes, despite the clothing she was wearing, she was feeling the air bouncing against her skin.

As she wiggled her wrists against the restraints, searching for any weakness, the faint sound of footsteps approached. She held her breath, heart pounding, readying herself for whatever was to come.

The door creaked open, and Grant stepped inside. He paused, meeting her gaze with a mixture of concern and resolve.

“You okay?” he asked, a hint of sincerity breaking through his hardened facade.

Her voice was slightly shaky under her breath, “Is that even a question?”

“Ames.”

“Not even close, and you know it.”

“It’s gonna be a long night, I knew you’ll be tough. Coulson’s got an eye for talent.”

“So did you..”

He sighed, his harden facade slowly returned, as a tone that was undoubtedly unreadable appeared. He sat down across from her. Her breathing was deep and hitched, her glares softened ever so slightly, before slowly hardening once again.

“You and I are a lot alike, Ames.” He began, his voice simple yet smooth. “Emotions buried deep inside where nowhere will ever find it.”

She shook her head lightly, “Why’s that? Because you know me very well?” “Because the reason why you kill and fight and recruit others..it’s not because you feel it’s a duty.”

“It is..you caught onto that lesson very early on. Being pushed to the prime level, because it hides whatever uncertainty you have..”

“That’s what you think? Are you referring to me or yourself?”

Amelia paused remembering a conversation she had with Skye involving the context of Ward. He kills because of his emotional attachment and his desire to help, not just for his own desire but for a gain.

But there was something more to that.

After a moment Amelia said under her breath as she admitted, “..it’s not because of nothing, or that it’s a duty to serve..it’s because you feel too much..i feel too much..”

Grant watched her eyes gearing up, the shift in her eyes, at the realization. The pain, the despair, the suffering, the repeated questions and conversation. It was like memories flashed—every laugh, every time she was snapped at, every snarl or glare, every moment of believing in trust and faith—it all came crashing down upon her.

The right push and she can be forced to see the truth, even if she denied it. Hell, the words that Amelia said hit Grant as hard a brick. It wasn’t false, he did care, sometimes way too much. But like he said, he buried it deep, to save himself the heartbreak and torment.

However he did say if Amelia didn’t corporate, or if SHIELD didn’t release information on Whitehall, he will do a certain job. One that she has seen done before..

“Baby, listen to me.” Grant said, bringing her back to the moment holding up needle in-between his fingers. “Kara needs closure. Your teammates are already suffering with no idea where you are, thanks to Kara. But you, just admit you betrayed her and we can end this.”

She scoffed, “You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Betray her? Honey, may I remind you that you betrayed your whole entire team! You betrayed me.”

“For the—! For the hundredth time, I was loyal to Garrett, not HYDRA!”

“For the hundredth time, I don’t care!”

“Amelia!”

“What?! You always have that excuse or decide to blame Garrett for your choices!”

“We both know, if it was the other way another and you were in my shoes, you would understand! We talked about this!”

“I know! And for the that, I say, screw you!”

That’s when Grant leaned forward against the table, his body dangling among the chair he sat in. Their face were mere inches apart, they can feel the other’s hot breath against one another’s face. Every scare, bump and bruise, laced across their face.

The tension was heating off their bodies, their breathing was thick and hitched.

“You don’t know me as well, as you think you do.” He growled under his breath, his back arched and his palms pressed against the table.

“Sure I do, baby.” She responded, growling in the same exact intensity.

However she held a light smirk, ripping off her restraints that she spent the last hours loosing up, grunted as she both hands grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the table.

She held out a breath, snatching the needle from his grasp and stabbing him with it. Grant broke free from her grasp just as quickly, as Amelia stumbled backwards. He launched at her as she jumped over the table and kicked him the chest.

Before they two knew it, they were dancing around, blocking and trying to punch one another into corners. Spinning, turning and trying to slam the other into a wall. Grunts, pounding from footsteps against the ground, shouts and screaming were heard from within the warehouse, as they broke though the walls and into the hallways.

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

At one point, Amelia raised her height was going to cause her a real disadvantage, Grant was taller than her by a lot. So just as he was about to launch at her once again, she reached up to a poll, grasping a tight grip before swinging her legs forwards launching Grant to break though the window of the door.

“I taught you well..” He muttered, a hint of pride in his voice, before grabbing her and swinging the brunette around as they head butted one another hitting against the tight narrow hallway.

Amelia head was slammed backwards, pounding firm near a wall, before her body slid downwards onto the floor as she grunted and let out a groaned. Grant towered over her just as Kara hurried in, holding her gun towards Amelia.

She was ready to shoot her, but didn’t, yet. She wanted to hear the apology, understand her pain. She exchanged a look with Ward.

“Anything you want to say to Kara?” Grant asked, letting out a deep breath.

Amelia’s eyes darted between the door of them, her vision was blurry as she said, “..yeah.”

“She’s waiting.”

“I’m not sorry anymore..” Amelia muttered under her breath.

Kara exhaled, lowering the gun, “This isn’t right..I’m not feeling, she’s not sorry..”

Grant took the gun from her stuffing it into his back pocket and placed a hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright, baby, I know what to do..”

Her gaze flickered between the pair, one look from Grant and Amelia knew what was coming for her, he going to pull the trigger. The hours were running up.

He’ll do the one thing she seen him do, only once, years ago.

It will not just make her suffer but the ones who claimed to love her...

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

AHH! It was a lot I know but let me know what you think! Thoughts, comments and what you love about it all. Pls like, comment and share for more.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines s @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary y @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle @infinetlyforgotten and etc

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mindofharry · 1 year ago

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Y/N didn’t know why she came back to Hallows Creek. After everything that happened, she promised herself she would never step foot back in that town. But Y/N is loyal and if you need her, she’s there. Her best friend, Niall from high school, is expecting his fifth child. His wife, Amelia needed some extra hands around the house while Niall was working on the farm, but didn’t want a stranger in her home. So Y/N offered. They knew her background here. But she insisted. Her job wasn’t doing much for her, her rent was insane and she had no one around to support her, so many Hallows Creek would be good for Y/N.

It would be good if she didn’t bump into him.

Y/N left for a reason.

And that reason was Harry Styles.

She was so infatuated with that man, always following him around like a lost puppy until he eventually gave in and gave her a chance. Y/N likes to think they were high school sweethearts, but that might be too nice. They dated for a year and then Harry got bored. He’s a cowboy, he needed something more and Y/N wasn’t interested in that. And so Harry broke her heart and chose his farm, instead of the girl.

Y/N didn’t blame him for that. The farm had been in his family for centuries and he was always going to be the one to take over when his father and mother retired. She blamed him for the way things went down. When he took her to the prom and publicly humiliated her.

He thought that dating Margaret Miller, the mayors daughter, would be better than little old Y/N.

That’s what Y/N thought anyways. Why else would he kiss her while he was meant to be with Y/N?

After the whole prom fiasco, her parents told her they were moving. She could stay with her grandparents or she move up her whole life and move to the coast with them. And Y/N knew what she had to do. She left when she was 17 and never once came back.

And now at 28, she wasn’t sure if she made the right decision.

Hallows Creek looked the exact same. People everywhere, all the stores open, kids running up and down the street, the ice cream parlour that everyone knows still up and running. She smiled to herself. It was like she never left. Y/N clutched her bag and made her way through the crowd, not recognising anyone. These were the knew locals now and Y/N just wanted to fit in, so she smiled and lugged her suitcase up the road to the diner she used to eat at everyday.

“Well, I never! Is that Ms Y/N I see?” Missy yelled from behind the counter, throwing her cloth down and running down the diner to throw her hands around Y/N. Y/N laughed loudly as the swayed side to side.

Missy had been here for over 30 years. Her father opened this diner and after he passed away, she made it her mission to make the best diner on earth. And that she did. She was here for everything. For Y/N’s first kiss, her first bully, her first everything. Y/N worked here during the summers and Missy was like the older sister she never had.

“You look so beautiful,” Missy cried out, throwing her arms around Y/N again.

Y/N blushed, “Oh, stop. I look a mess,”

Missy smacked her arm and took her suitcase, “Please, you look like you got off the runway,” she replied, dropping her suitcase at the first booth. Their both.

Harry and Y/N came to this diner for their dates. There wasn’t much to do in this town, but that didn’t bother Y/N. She loved coming here.

“Let me get you your usual and then you can tell me why the fuck it took you so long to come back,” Missy said, Y/N scoffed and tutted.

“I think everyone knows,” She murmured, looking out the window.

Y/N took her phone out and texted Niall that she was at the diner having some lunch and that she’d walk over to his soon, but Niall insisted on collecting her. So here she was, an hour later on her third milkshake, filling Missy in on everything she missed.

“So let me get this straight.. you could literally be the president of the united states and you’re here.. in Hallows Creek?” Missy asked incredulously.

Y/N cackled, “I’m a lawyer Miss. A bad one at that,”

“Who’s a bad lawyer?”

Y/N peeked over the booth and saw him.

Harry Styles was now standing in front of her for the first time in almost 11 years. He changed. He was more tanned, had tattoos up and down his arms. His eyes were the same, green and wide. And he wore the same cowboy hat, that Y/N used to steal.

They met eyes and it was like all the air was knocked out of her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not this fast, she couldn’t do this.

She threw out a couple of dollars and a tip, grabbed her bags and then practically flew out of the door.

“Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me. Don’t follow,” She chanted as she walked away from the diner.

“Y/N! Come on. Y/N!” Harry yelled, jogging up to her.

“God, woman you move fast,” He smirked, looking her up and down. Y/N scoffed and kept walking forward.

“Come on, let me talk. Please,” He begged, reaching out to hold her arm.

Y/N stopped abruptly and looked up at him. He’s taller than she remembered.

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” He said, biting his lip.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Y/N whispered, moving forward again.

“Of course I’d care. You left me,” Harry said, his voice breaking. Y/N turned around quickly, her suitcase falling to the ground.

“You broke me! You did,” She whisper yelled, she looked around and tried to contain herself, picking up her suitcase.

“Don’t follow me, Harry,”

And he didn’t.

Y/N spotted Niall’s car and immediately walked towards it like her life depended on it — in a way, it did. Niall didn’t ask questions when she saw the tears running down her cheeks. He just hugged her and let her deal with this. He knew it would be hard. Not just seeing Harry, but coming back to a town with no great memories.

“Let’s get you home,” Niall said kissing the top of her head.

“I think I am home,” Y/N said, pushing him away playfully.

“The kids and Amelia are so excited to see you. Millie has grown so much since Christmas,” Niall said, putting her bags into the boot of the car.

“Yeah?”

Niall nodded, “Knox had a growth spurt as well. Jesus, they’re all growing up,” Niall said, turning on the ignition. Y/N looked out the car window and saw Harry still in the same spot, his hat off and in his hands.

“He’s not with Margaret anymore,” Niall said. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Don’t care,”

Niall chuckled, “Sure,”

Niall’s farm wasn’t anything special, but he took major pride in it. And it paid the bills. It wasn’t anything like Harry’s, but Niall liked it more as a hobby than a job. His whole life didn’t depend on it. During the winter, he taught middle school. In the summer, he helped his workers on the farm.

Amelia and Niall met in college. Both teachers and had so much love for kids, both coming from big families. Five kids might be a too much for Y/N though. But she loved them all like they were her own, and she’d love this baby too.

The rolled up the driveway and there they were. Her family.

Amelia had the youngest, Peter, in her arms and her bump was absolutely huge.

“Sure it’s not twins?” Y/N joked, Niall scoffed.

“The last time you said that, we actually had twins. So keep it to yourself,”

Millie and Knox, the twins, were jumping up and down in front of their mother. Taylor and Matthew were on the porch playing with their trucks, but immediately perked up with they saw their father. Y/N loved seeing him this happy.

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Amelia smiled, putting peter down and pulling Y/N into a hug.

“Eight months pregnant and still looking sexy as ever,” Y/N replied, as Niall took her bags in.

“Now where are all my hugs!”

After settling in, Y/N decided it would be nice for her and Niall to catch up. So they went to the local bar. Amelia did not want to go, cause she could barley see her feet, but she pushed the other two out of the house told them to have fun.

Niall placed a cowboy hat on her head as they walked to the car.

“Now, you’re home,”

Y/N grinned and skipped to the car.

“Feels like I never left,”

They arrived at Earl’s Bar at just the right time. A couple was leaving so they robbed their table quickly, laughing to themselves.

“I’ve missed this,” Y/N said, putting her hat down on the table.

“Remember when you grew boobs and everyone started give us free beers?” Niall laughed and Y/N hit his arm.

“Don’t even,”

“What did I miss?”

Niall stood up quickly, puffing his chest out. Y/N rolled her eyes and stood between Niall and Harry.

“No need to play Alpha, boys,”

Harry tipped his hat at Niall, “Just wanted to say hi to the competition,”

Y/N scoffed, “I’m getting a drink,”

She walked away and up to the bar.

“We need to talk,” Harry said placing a hand on her hip. She melted into his touch.

“No, we actually don’t,”

She turned around and looked him in his eyes.

Huge mistake.

“We’ll talk. But you buy me a drink first,”

#part 2?#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic

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litgwritersroom · 9 months ago

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amelia. Rip her apart I don’t care how.

Amelia Gets her Heart Ripped Out

S6 |Amelia/Heartbreak | 700 words | @i-boop-you

It's a miserable morning, but it perks up for Amelia when she bumps into the Portuguese Squeeze at the coffee shop.

Not for the faint hearted, but for the Amelia haters.

It was a chilled morning in January. The city was awake but the dusky morning hadn’t gotten the message yet. Amelia trudged through the puddled streets, shielding her £500 blow-dry from the drizzle of rain.

She wasn’t really a city girl, more of a beach girl, but she was in the city visiting her twin sister and she couldn’t wait to be gone again. She’d take sunsets setting above the seaside over the miserable grey skyscraper hell anyday. One thing the city did get right though was its coffee.

With some time to spare, Amelia dipped her head into the nearest Starbucks. There was another across the street, but that one didn’t have the cute barista this one had. Sure, he always burned the milk, but his shiny smile more than made up for it.

Amelia went in prepared with her most winning smile for him, but as she flashed it upon entrance, her face slipped, that winning smile faltering. Before her eyes stood a handsome stranger with swishy brown hair and a golden tan.

Cute barista who?

“Oh,” she said, stunned into silence momentarily.

He visibly took her in, leaning back with widening eyes as he looked her up and down. Well, if he didn’t like it, she’d stolen everything she had on out of her sister’s drawers before heading out, so it would be entirely her twin's fault. His gaze was intense, smouldering, like he saw right through her, but knew everything about her at the same time.

“Olá,” he said, side stepping out of her way, “excuse me, gaja bonita.”

“Oh, Spanish?” She asked.

He smiled coyly. “Not quite,” he said, taking her hand in his, “I am Roberto. The Portuguese squeeze.”

“Roberto,” she said, matching his accent and rolling his name on her tongue like it was a sweet treat. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Amelia.”

“Tell me, gaja bonita, but where are you going on such a poor morning? Surely a lady such as you should have a … man … to fetch her beverages?”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “I’m single.”

“Excelente,” he smiled, flashing her another stunner. “Perhaps I could then treat you to a drink? That way you would owe me one back, and I am a thirsty man.”

“I’d be happy to return the favour, Roberto.”

“Ah excelente. Please, let me …”

He strolled off, practically floating - wait, was he floating? It was hard to tell with the cape on – and he ordered from some barista. He looked back at her, and when he saw her lovestruck stare, he cocked a grin, exposing his sharp canines.

They exited out into the dark morning again, smiling bashfully over at one another all the while until Roberto asked her, “Do you have any place to be this morning? I was planning to stroll through the park if you would care to join me.”

“That sounds lovely.”

So they set out, never straying from the path, all until they got to the gates of the cemetery. Roberto steered her to a bench under an old oak tree that loomed over the graves.

“Spooky,” Amelia said with a pout, looking in. “Death makes me so sad.”

“How so, gaja?”

“It’s just so sad to think of the life left behind.”

“Ah, think instead of the life they lived, and all it came to.”

“I guess. It’s pretty secluded here.”

It was cold, so Amelia slurped down her drink despite the burnt milk to keep herself warm.

“Are you chilled?” He asked, scooching closer.

She nodded, casting a doe-eyed look up at him through her lashes.

“Yes, it is cold, is it not? And you … you are so warm-blooded.”

Amelia giggled. And he smiled. That beautiful smile. God she was a sucker for a lovely smile. He leant in closer, his lips puckered, his eyes on her neck –

He reached up to her chest –

Her heart hammered away –

His lips brushed hers –

And Roberto hissed, revealing his vampiric fangs, and in one strong swoop, he punched through her chest, grabbing a hold of her still beating heart. He ripped it out and squeezed it until it exploded, spraying them both with blood.

With her oozing away in his hand, he whispered, “I am Roberto, vampire, and Portuguese squeeze.”

#litg #litg amelia #litg roberto #litg writers room #writers room #litg fanfic #love island the game #litg double trouble #litg s6 #i-boop-you

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 1 year ago

Text

here to stay | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: The Amelia County Boy's Home is having a back-to-school clothing drive and Cecelia Abbott forces her son to finally get rid of those old clothes that no longer fit. However, Rhett encounters someone he doesn't expect. (wc: 4174)

Warnings: flashbacks, rhett's a bit of an idiot but he's got the spirit

✎……here it is! the long-awaited rewrite! i hope anyone who reads this finds as much joy in it as i have the past few months. this story has helped me find my love of writing again so it's near and dear to my heart - so please be kind!

✎……MASTERLIST || NEXT CHAPTER

Rhett didn’t check to see if there were any holes in the old pair of Wranglers before he chucked them into the box along with everything else. Old shirts from high school that he couldn’t remember the reason for keeping and had been too small for him for quite some time. Sweatshirts and hoodies he bought at rodeos that made him cringe — their airbrushed images of bucking bulls and rearing stallions large. And a few other pairs of jeans that were just on the wearable side of thread-bare. All this he tossed into the cardboard box his mother had given him. Not caring to fold any of it.

They were just donations, after all.

Picking up the box from his bed, and plopping his old brown stetson on his head, Rhett made his way downstairs. The stairs creaked under his booted feet like they had since before he was born.

That was the thing about old farmhouses. They were noisy. Groaned and shook against the winds that rolled along the great Wyoming plains. Settled at odd hours of the night. There was no use in trying to sneak around. Wherever you walked, a floorboard wailed. Over the years, growing up in that old farmhouse, Rhett had learned which polished planks were less squeaky than others. Which steps to avoid in the wee hours of the night. Attempts at creeping through the house, smelling like hay and cheap booze, even his mother — who grew up in that same noisy old farmhouse — found valiant.

But he didn’t care about sneaking now. It was ten in the morning and he had chores to do. One of which was already complete: gather clothes he wouldn’t mind donating to the Amelia County Boys Home.

Rhett stepped into the overcrowded kitchen to the lingering smells of bacon and eggs. He knew he missed breakfast. He slept in late, and everyone else had already been awake for hours. His father and his older brother, Perry, were probably out in the fields counting cattle by now. He hoped he wouldn’t have to see them before he left for town. Rhett set the box down on the small kitchen table in the middle of the room with a sigh. Wondering if there was any coffee left.

“That you Rhett?” his mother called from her office.

Once upon a time, that office was the family dining room. But that conversion took place long before Rhett was born. His grandfather turned it into an office space for the family ranch when he inherited it from his father. Hence the crowded kitchen.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking off his hat and setting it beside the box, knowing his mother would give him a look for wearing it inside the house. “There any coffee?”

“A little, maybe.”

Rhett turned to the coffeemaker, and sure enough, there was enough for one cup. That was all he needed. Getting down a mug from the hooks over the window, he poured what remained in the decanter and took a sip. Nothing fancy, but it did the job in waking him up some.

His mother’s small steps echoed, floors creaking, as she walked into the kitchen. She pointed at the box on the table. “Those the clothes y’re donatin’?”

Cecelia Abbott was a stout woman. Both in heart and stature. Her brown hair much like her younger son’s was cropped short around her ears. She never did anything to it like the other rancher’s wives, just let it hang around her face and hoped for the best. And her face was hard, wrinkled like old leather. Evidence of a hard life and years of hard work. She was kind — but often silent.

“Yeah,” Rhett replied, turning to lean back against the counter.

Cecelia picked up the sweatshirt laying on top. A sweatshirt with Amelia County Rodeo printed on the front with peeling letters — a cowboy riding a bull just underneath (also peeling at the edges). A relic from his days on the high school rodeo team. First time he ever rode a bull and really caught the thrill for it. The best part of his high school days, in his opinion. She turned it around so he could get a look at the logo. A small, fond smile flashed across her face only long enough for him to recognize it.

“Sure ya don’t wanna keep this one?” she asked, turning it back over and tracing the letters with her thumb.

Rhett took a gulp of his coffee. “Why would I?”

“I don’know…For the memories?” she suggested, “Show your kids one day?”

He scoffed over the lip of his mug. At this rate, there was a slim chance of that happening. A wife, couple kids — that entire settled-down life that it felt like everyone in their small western town was ready for him to have. He was twenty-three and every girl he tried to date either left him or didn’t seem interested in getting married until the relationship after him. He blamed the bad luck on still living at home and his reputation as a bull rider, but really, deep down, he knew it was him that was the problem. Every time. There wasn’t any sense in holding out hope for something that wasn’t in the cards for him. So he shook his head and sipped up the last of his coffee.

“‘Member jus’ fine without it,” he said, watching as his mother folded the sweatshirt gently and put it back in the box.

All she did was hum in answer.

Amelia County, Wyoming had one real city, along with a few other unincorporated communities. Wabang. The Dirty Bang to those who managed to escape but still came back from time to time. Rhett thought the name was funny, though his parents gave him a glare any time he used it in front of them (Perry, without fail, always laughed).

The city itself was small. With a square downtown full of mom-and-pop shops or empty storefronts. Just enough stuff for the ranchers and farmers that made up the population to get by. If you wanted clothes from somewhere besides the Tractor Supply or watch a movie in theaters or eat someplace nice — you had to drive the two hours to Casper.

Everything felt a little dusty in Wabang. A little worse for wear. A little like everything and everyone was on the verge of keeling over. Like that old horse put out to pasture a long time ago. Just waiting for the day to come but stubbornly refusing to give in. Stuck in some space between life and death.

At least, that was how Rhett saw it.

He remembered when he was eighteen and telling anyone who would listen that as soon as he graduated, he was getting off his family’s ranch and out of that little nothing town. Graduation came and went. He knew he couldn’t go to college. His grades were never going to be good enough for that. And getting up and leaving everything he knew, no matter how much he wanted something more, scared him — now that the time had come. So he decided to wait a year. Save up. Make a solid plan. Then one year turned into two. And so on until suddenly he was twenty-three and he was still on that ranch and still in that town.

Maybe he too was dusty, worse for wear, on the precipice of some death that he saw coming a mile away. Stuck between.

He glanced at the box full of clothes sitting in his passenger seat as he drove into town. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as well as the lay of his hat.

It wasn’t that the Boy’s Home scared him. It just made him uneasy. A big Victorian with peeling white paint and missing roof tiles on the outskirts of town — surrounded on either side by more old houses with faded colors and rotted porches — rumors spread easily that the place was haunted. At the very least ghost adjacent. Or maybe the real source of his unease was the fact that anytime he misbehaved as a kid his dad would purposefully drive by and threatened to drop him off and leave him there.

Either way, whether by the speculation of specters or his father’s threats, he felt slightly wary as he pulled up in front of the Boy’s Home now.

Only, it wasn’t like how he remembered it.

The paint had been redone. It was no longer chipped and faded but pristinely, bright white. Even the roof was fixed, completely replaced by brick red tiles all in neat rows. There were flowers, brightly colored mums and coneflowers, and bushes planted out front. The plack that read Amelia County Boy’s Home est. 1905 by Miss Abigail Granger was no longer crooked, hanging by one screw beside the front door, but perfectly straight. A sign was pushed into the lawn about the clothing drive. The entire house stood out in stark contrast to the still decrepit buildings surrounding it. The only blemish was a porch swing with a broken chain.

This place didn’t feel dusty. Or worse for wear. Or on the verge of some slow, long-awaited death. It felt…Welcoming. Homey. Full of life.

Suddenly, he was feeling like he should have checked those Wranglers for holes.

Rhett sighed as he cut the engine and climbed out of his truck. Box cradled in his arms. He followed the short stone path up to the front porch, looking for somewhere to put his donation or at least someone to leave it with. But there was nothing except that porch swing, one side still held aloft by the intact chain. Another sigh slipped past his lips, huffed and slightly agitated. He was hoping to get by with this chore without having to talk to anyone besides maybe a here ya go and you’re welcome. But alas, he adjusted his hat one more time and rang the doorbell.

“Coming!” a feminine voice called from inside. A few moments later, the blue door was pulled open. “Can I help you?”

He knew her. Nearly a head shorter than him, athletic build gone slightly soft, with long light brown hair kept back from her face by a kerchief covered in daffodils. Her eyes were big and blue and expectant. The corner of her full pink lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. She looked kind, but not silent about it.

Her name was just out of his reach though, on the tip of his tongue.

But he remembered her from high school.

The Wyoming/South Dakota Rodeo Invitational was always the one event in the season that Rhett looked forward to the least. He hated the South Dakota team. Mostly because they were good, but also because they knew it too. Liked to rub it in their faces. Call them a bunch of dirty hicks when they were all a bunch of dirty kids of hicks with something to prove.

It made Rhett angry, so he rode better. But not good enough. He only placed third. Shiny yellow ribbon pinned to his protective vest nearly mocking him as he walked back to grab his gear.

He passed by the dirt riding pit, the stands now completely empty and the fairgrounds only lit by the yellow street lamps above. A few people still milled about. Other kids and their parents, talking excitedly about their scores or abysmal about their performance. Rhett was just glad his parents couldn’t make it to this one. He didn’t know if he would have been able to stand the fake positivity from his father or his mother’s sympathetic face.

There was a girl standing at the pit railing, still wearing her back number with Amelia County printed at the top. She was alone, hands in her back pockets, white stetson tilted back on her head.

“Bus’s leavin’ soon,” he called out to her.

She turned to face him with a bewildered look, eyebrows raised and pink lips downturned, and he stopped walking. A big blue ribbon was pinned to her flannel.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, pushing away from the fence and walking towards the show barn where their teams' gear was stored during the rodeo.

Rhett only had to take a few long strides to catch up with her. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she said again as she glanced down at her ribbon.

“Barrel racin’, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Her cheeks looked pink in the yellow light. “Bull rider, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughed softly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. He waited for her to grab her things and walked back to the bus with her. She sat towards the front, by herself. And Rhett went towards the back where his friends were calling his name.

She was that same girl. That same barrel racer who won first place and walked with him quietly and pink-cheeked. Looking up at him now with some sort of knowing smile forming on her face. Like she was in on the joke but he didn’t get it. His tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth, too large for the space, as he adjusted his grip on the box and tried to say something.

He still couldn’t remember her name.

He also couldn’t remember if she had been that pretty before.

Her head cocked to one side, knowing smile growing as she prompted, “Is that for the clothing drive?”

“Y-Yeah,” he managed to stutter out around the growing weight of his tongue, blinking rapidly as he glanced down at the Amelia County Rodeo Team sweatshirt neatly folded on top. “Uh — there-there wasn’t a place f’me t’put it, so…”

“Oh, God, sorry! Brought everythin’ in t’start organizin’. Got more than I’thought we would,” she replied, smile that showed maybe too much of her teeth never leaving her face, then she reached for the box. “Here, lemme take that.”

Her small hands slid over the sides of the cardboard box and caught his fingers by accident. Rhett felt something flutter inside him, like his gut twisting in a knot. Her skin was warm. Even from such a brief touch, he knew her hands were soft — untouched by years of hard work. He glanced down at his now empty hands. Rough, hard callouses stared back at him. Immediately, he dropped them back down at his sides. Adjusting the weight of the box in her arms, she stepped back into the doorframe.

Her name scratched at the back of his mind like the dog he left out in the rain. It was right there. But he just couldn’t grasp it — and he knew he couldn’t just ignore it.

“You went t’Amelia County High, right?” he asked.

Her mouth shut with an audible clack, smile and teeth gone, as she cocked her head at him. Brows furrowed in something like curiosity. Rhett smiled as he watched her. She looked cute when she did that.

“Yeah, I did.” She adjusted her grip on the box, thigh coming up to push it further into her arms. “Uh — we sat next t’each other at graduation, actually.”

It was an absolutely sweltering day in May, 2015. The sun high in the sky by mid-morning and not a cloud in sight to block the bright rays. Rhett wished he could have at least worn his stetson to keep the light out of his eyes. But he had a different hat to wear today.

A golden graduation cap with a blue tassel hanging by his left ear.

Amelia County High School held its graduation ceremony at the fairgrounds, in one of the big metal-sided show barns with stands already set up on either side of the dirt-covered floor. There was always a notice sent out to all the seniors not to wear nice shoes.

Inside the barn, the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes, but he could feel the sweat running down his back. The air pulled into his lungs thick with that early summer heat and the smell of old cow shit. With the last name Abbott, Rhett had the distinct privilege of sitting in the front row of his graduating class of 150. Closest to the makeshift stage and the valedictorian finishing up her speech. She was going off to Georgia for school — something medical — and Rhett could only wish he had that kind of excuse to get out of Wabang. But senioritis had hit him hard, and his grades suffered for it. He hadn’t even bothered putting in an application anywhere. It wasn’t like he would’ve known what to major in any way.

His plan was to leave the following morning. Pack up his stuff and go west. Follow the rodeo, live out of his truck. Find…Whatever it was he was looking for. There had to be something out there for him. He just knew it. And he wanted to find it.

He looked over his shoulder at the rest of his classmates. All in those matching golden gowns. Maria Olivares stood out to him easily. Beautiful and posed and smiling up at her friend on stage. With skin like caramel, full lips painted pink, and hair dark as night. She was getting out of this town too. California to learn how to be a veterinarian.

Maybe she was part of what he would find out there in the wide world.

“Rhett Theodore Abbott.”

He strode across the stage, his family cheering wildly from the stands. Taking his diploma, carefully tucked in a blue leather case, he shook the principles hand. Then he walked off the stage and back to his seat. It was over in seconds. Four years — and it was done. Part of him felt as if it, getting his diploma and walking across the stage, should have felt like more. More momentous, more exciting, more something had ended and something else was beginning. Instead, it felt like nothing. There he sat, sweating in his seat, diploma in hand.

And he just felt stuck.

The next person’s name was called. Another last name starting with A. She was short, her gown nearly covering completely the old cowboy boots she wore. Her hair, brown as young tree bark, shone with hairspray and curled around her shoulders. Her smile big and wide as she accepted her diploma and walked across the stage. Her applause was just a bit louder than Rhett’s — a whistle piercing the air that made her laugh.

That whistle sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had heard it before.

The girl came down from the stage and sat next to him back in their row. For a moment, it was just the two of them.

“We did it!” she laughed awkwardly, fists slightly raised in celebration.

Rhett chuckled. “Yeah.”

They said no more as the ceremony went on. As the names of all their classmates were called. As they got to their feet and moved their tassels from the right — to the left. And as everyone cheered, Rhett looked back to see Maria Olivares kissing her boyfriend.

“Abernathy.”

The name he suddenly remembered came past his lips more like a question than he intended. His head tilted down as he looked at her through squinted eyes, wondering if he was right or if he had just made a fool of himself. Her lips peeled back in a smile before she laughed, loud and beautiful. A relieving sound to his doubt.

“Yeah,” she laughed again, adjusting her grip on the box again. “Most people call me Tessa, though.”

He repeated her name on a mutter, tried it out on his tongue. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth when her cheeks turned pink. Just like they did under the yellow lights of the rodeo. But in the mid-morning sun, the blush tint made the freckles high on her cheekbones stand out more. Like wildflowers dotted in a field.

Tessa Abernathy. Now that her name was in his grasp, memories of her came flooding back. Watching her barrel race with a kind of determination that cast her face in shadows that gave him chills. Her standing across a circle of mutual friends in the school hallway, never saying much and shifting foot to foot. He remembered her eyes. Blue as a cloudless day in July and always looking at him like she was just caught doing what she shouldn’t. A little different maybe, but harmless. They hardly ever spoke to each other and they both seemed content that way.

That girl from Amelia County High was nothing like the woman that stood before him now. Or had she really always been that pretty and he was too stupid to notice? She looked up at him with those same July eyes — only all he could see was confidence. Maybe amusement as she waited for him to say more. Should he say more? He didn’t know what, only that he wanted to.

Swallowing down the weighty feeling on his tongue, he rubbed at the rough material of his work jeans as he started, “I d’know if y’member me — “

“‘Course I ‘member you, Rhett Abbott.” She grinned, ear to ear, as if they shared some secret.

She remembered him too. Probably from the instant she saw him. An unexpected guilt tugged at the pit of his gut. He was always doing that. Forgetting shit he shouldn’t. Like the name of the pretty girl he went to high school with. Just another one of those things he didn’t know how to fix and at this point, no one expected any better from him. So he stopped trying a long time ago.

“I — m’sorry,” he muttered, gaze focused on his dirty boots.

“Nothin’ t’be sorry for,” she answered, “S’not like we were friends or whatever.”

“You were friends with Laney, right?”

Laney Griner. Small and blonde with big opinions and an even bigger voice. The life and organizer of many parties. But still sweet as the pies she liked to bring to bake sales. Rhett never liked the way she would play dumb in order to get the other guys to pay attention to her. It never worked on him — and he wasn’t sure if Laney ever wanted it to. She really only had her eyes set on one boy.

“And you were friends with Walker.”

Walker Browning was that boy. Rhett’s best friend since kindergarten. He was shorter than Rhett and broader. Built like the son of a ranch hand he was. Walker liked to dream — but he wasn’t much of a doer. He liked to drink and party and everyone wondered when he was going to grow up. Cecelia Abbott liked to blame Rhett’s lack of ambition on the Browning boy, but there was never any real malice behind it

Laney and Walker came as a package deal, forcing their friend groups to be together often. Though that never seemed to mean the two halves talked to each other much.

“Yeah,” Rhett chuckled nervously, wiping at his mouth. “Um — when-when’d you get back in town?”

Tessa laughed again, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “I never left.”

All Rhett could do was stare at her for a moment, thinking. There was no way. It had been six years since they graduated. Surely he would have seen her around town in that length of time. One of the bars, the rodeo, a weekend bonfire, the grocery store — something. But he couldn’t recall anything. Not that too big smile or eyes like easy summer days. He even still hung out with Walker, and Laney was with them often (when they weren’t broken up for the time being).

“Seriously?” he questioned, still racking his brain for somewhere he might have seen her but just missed it — guilt pulling at his insides again.

“Seriously.” She turned and set the box down on the floor inside with a soft groan, when she straightened, she leaned against the doorframe with arms crossed. “Don’t feel bad — don’t get much free time workin’ here.”

Rhett glanced around the porch, eyes catching on the black metal plack. Right. He had nearly forgotten. “Y’like it?”

“I do. What about you? I’know ya still ride bulls, but — uh — ?”

“Family’s ranch,” he replied with a nod.

Tessa smiled, and suddenly it didn’t seem too big or to show too much teeth, it was perfect for her. Beautiful even. Like her own personal bit of sunshine that she graciously blessed him with — that warmed his belly and made his own small smile try and form some reply.

“Nice,” she said, then a voice called from inside the house. She looked over her shoulder, then back to him apologetically. “I gotta get back t’work. Thanks — f’r’the donation. It was nice talkin’ to ya.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” He nodded with a small smile, stepping back towards the porch steps.

Tessa Abernathy smiled at him one last time as she grabbed hold of the door, lip caught in her teeth and that pink back in her cheeks. “See ya around, Rhett.”

He really hoped that he did.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

a/n: yeah i rewrote the fic...don't look at me. i originally wrote this when i was deeply lost in trying to please literally everyone besides myself and i lost my creative voice. so here we are. i am much happier and i hope the people who enjoyed the og version of this fic like it too.

#oc: tessa abernathy #fic: here to stay #fd: outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range oc #ocapp #chapter update #fic rewrite #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy #lewis pullman

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 2 years ago

Text

Delicate, Chapter One: Mary

next chapter >

ok so. here it is. i’m so fucking terrified hahahaha

i’d like to specify that 1) this is an experiment 2) i’m not 100% sure where i’m going w it and i don’t even know what title to put but i’ll think about it (eventually) 3) i’ll post it here on tumblr first and *maybe* one day i’ll publish it on ao3. for now, however, i want this to stay here where i can change/delete whenever i want :)

and, 4) english isn’t my first language, so bear with me. Enjoy!

CW: drinking, mentions of drug abuse, mommy issues™️

It was very fucking hot.

Too fucking hot, in Narcissa’s opinion.

The windows of her car were rolled down, her sweaty forehead rested against the wheel, hair sticking to the melting plastic. There were many things to be annoyed at, really, but all Narcissa could think about were those suitcases in the back seats behind her, and the realisation she had run away from home.

“He followed in his brother’s footsteps, surely. Poor Walburga, she must be destroyed now that even her spare star has abandoned her.”

Regulus was only 18, and arguably Narcissa’s favourite cousin: he cared about their family’s reputation in the acting and music industry, just like her, and he was willing to do everything to become famous, for his name’s sake.

Oh, he had also been left behind and forgotten by an older sibling, which was another thing they had bonded over.

Narcissa thought that out of everyone in that deranged family, Regulus was the one she could really, fully understand.

Except maybe Narcissa didn’t know him that well after all, because he had left. As soon as he had legally become an adult, he had hopped off that derailing train that was the Black family, and had continued to pursue his acting career independently from his mother.

And Narcissa was still there.

24 years old, still following her parents’ orders like a puppet, her strings attached to her Father’s label. It had probably fucked her up a bit: it would’ve broken her Mother’s heart to know, but she had been running on drugs and alcohol for years now.

And drugs and alcohol were in her system while she was standing in her room, the news about Regulus still floating in her head.

She had been here before.

When Sirius had left.

When Andy-

She had thrown all the clothes she could fit into two suitcases, filled a couple of bags with few personal belongings (papers, essential equipment for singing) and she had gotten into her Mercedes, and started the engine.

But now the high had worn off, and she was slowly boiling to death in the cabin of her car, parked in front of a building she couldn’t even look at.

“If you ever change your mind, Narcissa, this is the address. My brother and I would be delighted to work with you.”

The Bones Records building was towering over her, glorious. Presumptuous, even, like Amelia Bones herself. Daring her to enter with a shine of its windows, a sparkle of her eyes.

In the end, she had stepped out of the car.

And Narcissa Black stepped into a new life.

Mary was pacing back and forth in the cold November air, an impossibly heavy usb drive in her pocket, trying to slow down her own heartbeat.

And, possibly, ring the doorbell of the mansion standing in front of her.

That day, Mary had taken a detour after work, her mind set on a plan. But right at the last step, she had discovered that the possibility of changing her future with a simple touch terrified her, and so she hesitated.

She had done scarier things in her past: babysitting her younger, reckless brothers, eating the suspicious meals her high school had to offer, doing her homework while the teacher was collecting it.

Pushing a button should sound like an incredibly simple task.

With herculean effort, she rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She rang again.

“Coming, coming!” chanted a slightly irritated woman, stomping towards the door.

Mary knew that voice, of course.

She’d listened to it for years.

Leaning against the doorframe, with an inquisitive look, was Narcissa Black.

However, with her long, blonde hair precariously pinned up, sporting old pyjamas and bags under her eyes, the singer was very different from how Mary was used to seeing her in magazines and interviews.

Wait, what time was it? It had gotten dark, how long had Mary been walking up and down the street like an idiot?

“Hello? Anything i can do for you?” asked Narcissa, with a raised brow.

“Uhm, yes, actually,” replied Mary, now intent on getting this whole conversation over with. “I’m Mary Macdonald. I’ve been your fan since your debut under the Black Studios-“

“Sorry, girl, but if you want an autograph, showing up at my door isn’t exactly the best way to get it.” interrupted Narcissa, now clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

But Mary had come prepared.

“It’s not an autograph i’m after, really. I wanted you to listen to these songs-“

“You’re brave, I’ll admit, knocking at my door in the middle of the night. But i’m no talent scout, so I suggest you take your songs, that i bet are very promising, and take them to someone that will know what to do with them. Maybe try contacting them a bit earlier.” sniffed Narcissa, already closing the door. Her movements were a bit slow, careful, like her hand could slip from the handle if she didn’t focus on it.

“Wait!” Mary stopped the door with her foot, fully catching Narcissa’s attention. She smelled of alcohol, but Mary guessed that famous people could afford getting wasted whenever they wanted, even on a random Tuesday night.

“Please. I want to become a singer, and I need you to listen to this. If you don’t like it, or think it’s not good enough, I won’t bother you, but i need someone to give me a chance. Please.” Mary pleaded, trying her best to convey her desperation through her eyes. Never once in her life had she ever begged for something, but God did she hate it. She was willing to make this sacrifice, for once.

Narcissa regarded her carefully, considering how big of a threat (or annoyance) the young woman in front of her could be. She sighed.

“Fine, come inside. And close the door.”

Mary followed the woman (who was muttering about how bravery, audacity and stupidity all go hand in hand) into her home. Honestly, she didn’t think she would’ve gotten this far with the plan, and when realized she was stepping into Narcissa Black’s residence, she tried to memorize every single detail.

The white walls were decorated with various paintings in different styles, and there were magazines everywhere, left open on the articles about members of the Black family: Bellatrix’s imminent marriage, Regulus’ Oscar nomination, Sirius’ new dog…

Mary wondered if, one day, her mother would be reading news about her from magazines, too. If she was ever going to swallow her pride, accepting that she had been wrong all along.

But first, she needed someone to get her into the Bones Studios.

She had heard Amelia and Edgar Bones weren’t afraid of working with new, young artists. They took risks in their investments, and Narcissa was a clear example of that: working with a fleeting, already successful singer and changing her whole image was a dangerous move, but it had made the label famous: the twins undoubtedly owed part of their success to Narcissa, and Mary hoped she could sneakily make her way under the singer’s wing and work her way up from there.

So. she had to get Narcissa’s approval.

“Ignore the mess, you chose a bad night to come knocking at my door.” said the woman, plopping herself onto a red velvet sofa and picking a half-full glass of wine from the round coffee table in front of her. She took a sip, opened her expensive laptop (one day Mary, one day), but then she gulped and started clicking the keys agitatedly, like she had seen something disturbing on the screen and desperately wanted to delete it.

Mary stood awkwardly in front of her, the usb drive in her hand and a mess in her head.

“So? Are you going to stand there and do nothing? Take seat, give me that drive, and have a glass of wine, honey, you look horrified.” prompted Narcissa, pointing to the couch and the bottle in front of her with her chin.

“Oh I…I don’t drink,” replied Mary, giving the other woman her drive and sitting down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, the material soft. The whole house, although a bit messy and smelling of alcohol, felt expensive. One day, one day.

“Mh, I should’ve guessed,” smiled Narcissa, looking up from the screen for an instant.

“You should’ve seen your face when you came in! Nose scrunched like a child. Are you doing it for religious reasons?”

“Not really,” Mary watched Narcissa getting up and searching for something around her, inside a bag, under the table. It was a long story, and surely not one enjoyable enough to be a conversation starter, so she just kept quiet.

“Well, it’s not like you have to get blacked-out drunk every time you drink. I hope one day you’ll find it in yourself to enjoy some tasteful liquor again.” Narcissa replied, pulling out a set of headphones from the sofa’s pillows.

“Now, I’ll listen to your…15 songs?!” Narcissa gave her an incredulous look. “That’s a whole-ass album! Did you write it yourself?”

“I wrote the music, the lyrics, arranged everything together, and sang. But it’s just…something i’ve been working on as practice, since i couldn’t get into a conservatory. I ended up liking it, though”

For Mary, her lack of professional musical knowledge was a sore subject: she had tried to make up for it on her own, but most talent scouts lost interest in her after guessing her family’s financial situation, so she’d had to compensate her lack of money with an abundance of nerve.

And there she was. Sitting on Narcissa Black’s couch, waiting for her opinion on her work like a sinner’s soul on Judgement Day.

Mary, upon telling Narcissa (born rich and famous) about her self-studying, had expected disdain, but surprisingly, Narcissa was looking at her with something uncannily resembling respect.

Mary watched her wine-stained lips curl with fondness. “‘No one cares about artists unless they’re not penniless’, right?”

“You can say that, yeah”

“Then I’ll be the one to start. I’ll be back in…63 minutes. Don’t wander around the house. The bathroom is the first room on the right, next to the painting of the girl with her tits out.”

Mary nodded, but stayed on the couch. Her leg kept bouncing, her palms were sweaty, and Narcissa was looking right at her, which was really not helping. She couldn’t even let her mind drift somewhere more calming, since that pair of blue, wide-opened eyes were fixed on hers.

Just as Mary had started to worry the eye contact would last all 63 minutes, Narcissa inhaled sharply and conjoined her hands in front of her face, like a prayer, closing her eyes.

Were all artists this…strange?

Narcissa stayed like that for about 37 minutes, and now Mary suspected she had fallen asleep.

Mary went to the bathroom, appreciated the painting’s tits, came back. The scene hadn’t changed.

After a while, Narcissa lowered her headset, deep in thought, eyes still closed.

Then she got up swiftly, removed the drive from the computer, and led Mary to the door. “I’ll talk to Amelia. Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know in a few days. Can you send me a copy of the tracks? I want her to listen to your work.”

“…Just like this? You don’t have any…criticism, comments, questions, anything? I made you listen to my songs and-“

“Mary,” Narcissa interrupted, taking the girl’s face in her hands in an unexpected display of affection. “I like your style. You have an amazing voice, the songs are surprisingly good for a beginner. You lack a bit of technique and some aspects need to be refined, but it’s nothing a bit of practice can’t solve.” She patted her cheek. “Plus, you have the guts, and they’re always useful in the music industry. Let me talk to Amelia. I’ll get back to you.”

“I-Woah. Thank you. Woah. Okay, uhm, this is my number…” After Narcissa had typed and double-checked the digits (double-checked! Was she really going to call her back?), she gave her her email address, wished her goodnight, and Mary was left standing in the porch, still shocked.

It was happening. It was really, actually happening. Oh, Mary wanted to scream, to walk up and down the street like she had done just two hours before: she caught Narcissa Black’s attention! Her dreams had a chance of finally coming true, the life she had always wanted was getting closer and-

“Wait,” Narcissa’s head reappeared, temporarily knocking Mary out of her hysterical state. “Before you go…how did you find my address?”

“Y-You’re a famous singer. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Ugh. What a bother. Whatever, goodnight.”

Mary was lightly strumming her guitar, humming lyrics quietly on her bed, window open despite the cold. She loved those early-winter afternoons, when the sun sunk earlier and the air was crisp, the smell of rain a constant reminder of the clouds in the sky.

Narcissa hadn’t called her yet, but it had only been a couple of days, so Mary still held hope and spent most of her free time in her room practising and recording.

Then her mother entered her bedroom. She had just come back from work, still had the shoes and jacket on. Mary hadn’t noticed her at first, but she immediately stopped playing when she did, feeling guilty and then hating herself for it.

To be completely honest, Mary wasn’t sure her mum liked her.

She loved Mary, of course, but because she happened to be her mother. Not because she chose to. Affection born from blood, something a mother is expected to give.

“Mum, I didn’t hear you come in, do you need me to lay the table for dinner?” Mary asked, watching her mother sitting down on the bed in front of her.

She was eyeing her guitar, her notebook and her computer like she didn’t know what to do with them. What to do with Mary.

“No, no, it’s okay. Your brother can do it, he’s old enough now,” she answered with a weak smile, still not meeting Mary’s gaze. She knew the two of them looked quite similar: same dark skin, curly hair, the same dimples that appeared when they smiled. However, Mary also noticed her mother’s wrinkles, proof of a life spent worrying and worrying, the way her shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, the way she sighed instead of exhaling when she breathed.

“Are you playing something?”

“Yes, actually,” Mary knew this was an attempt. It wouldn’t get them anywhere, but she was thankful for it regardless. “Do you want to listen?”

“…it would be a waste of time, darling, you know I don’t really get these…things,” her mother replied, still smiling sadly with her hands on her lap.

One step forward, two steps back, always retreating. Mary didn’t know what was she expecting, really. Her mother never got it, and had never showed any interest in trying.

“Did you want to talk about something specific?” Mary asked, curtly.

Her mum stayed silent for a moment.

“…Let me read a verse or two, love,” she complied. Mary offered her the notebook, carefully watching her read her songs, her soul.

“Do you like them?”

Mary was met with unreadable dark eyes. And a sad smile. Mary was so tired of sad smiles.

Narcissa said they were good. She just wants you to give up.

She closed her stinging eyes, and felt the warmth of a calloused hand on her face.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Mary,”

“…So?”

“You could get a good job easily-“

“I do have a job” Mary glared at her mother, swatting her hand away.

“A part-time job-“ she replied, slightly frustrated.

“Did you want to talk about anything specific?” Mary could hear her voice break and feel a tear run down her cheek. Fuck.

The two just stared at each other.

Mary wished she didn’t have to choose between her mother’s approval and herself.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll go make dinner.”

Another step back.

And Mary was alone in her room.

narcissa black here, i need you to come to my place asap.

if this isn’t mary macdonald, i was joking. this isn’t narcissa black, it was a prank.

Mary had just come back from her morning shift at the cafe (Madame Puddifoot, serving the best food!), when Narcissa texted her. She had almost tripped on the doorway.

this is mary macdonald

sorry, do you mind sending the address?

Narcissa replied shortly after.

…you funny bitch.

Mary was at Narcissa’s place in thirty minutes, and before she could even lift her hand, Narcissa had opened the door, leaning against it. She was dressed casually, hair down and eyes bright with trouble.

“Hello sweetie, thanks for coming,” Narcissa greeted, but she kept standing there, a bit awkwardly.

“…Hi, has something happened? Did Amelia call you?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, love, I would’ve told you if I had heard from her. But something did happen, yes, and I wanted to show you,” she said with a smile, moving towards the middle of the doorway. Mary jumped back in horror, but she managed to not scream: Narcissa had a fucking snake, with black and blue scales, wrapped around her forearm. And it looked terribly real and alive.

“Narcissa what the hell??”

But the woman was still smiling, delighted by Mary’s reaction and the creature slithering up her arm. “I bought a snake!”

“I can fucking see it! But why?”

“If you’re going to be so loud about it, it’s better if we go inside,” and Narcissa led Mary to the living room. Everything looked tidier than last time, even Narcissa herself seemed more put together, although she was playing with a potentially poisonous reptile while walking towards the red sofa.

“…You’d better put it in its tank, Narcissa,” Mary suggested sitting as far from her as possible. The other woman just looked at her in confusion.

“Tank?”

Mary blinked slowly. “Where do you keep it, Narcissa?”

“I don’t have a dedicated place for her yet, but I was thinking of keeping her in my room.” Narcissa answered, offering a finger to the dark snake.

“Didn’t they give you a tank at the pet shop? And why are you putting you fingers near her?” Mary was staring at Narcissa, appalled. How did this woman survive for so long?

“She’s not poisonous, she kills by strangling her preys,” Narcissa said like a proud mother, “And they did give me a tank, but I didn’t like it so I threw it away. I was thinking of letting her sleep next to me.”

“That’s-I’m-“ Mary stuttered, “God. We’re getting a tank, before she kills you in your sleep. Let’s go, I’ll drive.” She got up and took her car keys.

“Can I bring her with me? I don’t want her to feel lonely,” Narcissa explained as the snake made its way around her neck. Mary was progressively getting more and more afraid of Narcissa getting strangled under her very own eyes.

“Just…sit in the backseat and don’t get killed?”

“She would never. I’m her Ma,” Narcissa smiled grabbing a coat, a hat and sunglasses, probably to avoid being recognised in public. The downside of being a celebrity, Mary assumed, although her showy and very much alive necklace probably wasn’t of much help keeping a low profile.

When Mary had mustered up the courage to knock at Narcissa’s door, she hadn’t expected this: walking down the aisle of a pet store pushing a rusty cart, looking for a tank for Narcissa Black’s latest (and murderous) purchase.

She had been enthusiastic to find out she could decorate the tank, so she was looking for the rocks that would fit best with the rest of the furniture in her bedroom.

Because she wanted to keep the snake in her room, the freak.

“Just a question, Narcissa…How long have you had her?”

She turned around and checked her shiny watch. “About six hours. Why?”

“Was just wondering if you had actually slept with the thing. It sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh no, but we did take a nap together. I couldn’t find her when I woke up,” she turned back to the rocks. The black ones seemed to have piqued her interest.

“I still don’t know what to call her. Any suggestions?”

“Narcissa junior?” suggested Mary.

“That’s lazy. I want something…meaningful. Think about snakes. What do they do?”

Oh, so she was serious about it.

“I don’t know, they crawl around, lay eggs, eat rabbits…”

“Rabbits! I can work with that…White Rabbit?” Narcissa offered.

“It’s a bit long. Is it an Alice in Wonderland reference?” Mary answered.

“…Yeah, never-mind. What about Bunny?” Narcissa looked at Mary from above her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You want to call your snake Bunny, because she eats rabbits.”

“Yes. It’s ironic, it’s cute, it’s perfect. Bunny.”

“Bunny it is, then.” Mary sighed with a soft smile, as Narcissa put the black rocks in the cart. “Why did you even buy a pet snake?”

“I have many reasons. But I won’t explain myself, and you’ll have to deal with it.”

“Fair. Why did you text me, though?” Mary asked. She was just a random fan, after all, and although she wasn’t complaining, she was a bit disoriented.

Narcissa simply shrugged. “Because Amelia would’ve ripped me to pieces, Edgar would’ve acted like a disappointed father, and I’ve listened to your songs, so we’re basically best friends now.”

“You see, it’s the last passage that I don’t get,” Mary replied while Narcissa put the rocks in the shopping cart. “Do you consider friends all the singers you listen to?”

Narcissa walked next to her as they were approaching the register. “Only the ones that make me feel like I know them. Mary, I don’t think you understand the power music holds.”

The cashier, a poor teenage girl, was too worried about the snake wrapped around Narcissa’s neck to question her suspicious outfit.

“Is-is that a real snake?”

“Yes, darling. Why are you surprised, we’re in a pet shop, after all,” Narcissa answered, lowering her sunglasses. The cashier’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are-are you Narcissa Black?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’d like to pay for my little girl’s needs, please.”

“S-sure.”

Mary watched the girl, and wondered if her hands were trembling because of the reptile or Narcissa.

As I was saying, Mary,” the woman continued once they were out of the shop, marching towards the car.

“Music is powerful. One of the best things about being a songwriter is that you can reveal the world all the thoughts you keep in your mind, the memories you hold close, your regrets or hopes. I liked your songs, Mary, because when I listened to them I got to know you. Music is clearly very important to you, you’re a voice screaming to be heard, love.”

“Narcissa,” Mary called, voice a bit hoarse. She had to shut her up in some way or she’d start crying in the car park and then die of embarrassment.

“Mary,” She replied.

“Should Amelia refuse to sign a contract with me, I want you to know that I’m glad you gave me a chance. It’s more than anyone has ever done, so thank you.” Mary smiled, grateful.

Narcissa looked at her, layers and layers of emotions Mary couldn’t quite decipher in her eyes.

“It’s nothing, really,” she nodded towards the car, not too far from them. “Now get in, before you start crying in the middle of a car park.”

“No offense, but fuck you.” Mary replied pulling out the keys, while Narcissa laughed, Bunny resting around her shoulders.

come to my place

there’s a surprise for you

For the third time that week, Mary knocked at Narcissa’s door. She was getting used to the singer’s cryptic texts, and had learnt to expect the unexpected: she was now wondering if Narcissa had bought a snake for her, too, or if she had found some top-quality tree branches for Bunny’s tank and needed an opinion.

However, when Amelia Bones opened the front door, Mary was admittedly caught by surprise.

“Amelia Bones,” she offered her hand, straight to the point. Mary held it, but she was interrupted before she could even introduce herself.

“So here’s the Mary Macdonald I’ve heard so much about. Come inside, you have a contract to sign,” she lead her to Narcissa’s kitchen, like it was her own house. Narcissa was sitting on a tall seat and leaning on the marble counter, placid like a cat.

Amelia and Narcissa looked quite similar, next to each other. The blonde, straight hair, the attentive eyes, the relaxed demeanor of someone who doesn’t get fucked with.

Overall, really intimidating.

“A few days ago, I happened to receive an email by our dearest Narcissa, with 15 songs and just two words, ‘Mary Macdonald’” began Amelia, in a calm tone. “Of course, I’m used to Narcissa’s enigmatic shit, so I wasn’t at all surprised by her temporary loss of words,” the other woman smiled at that.

“What did surprise me, though, were the tracks. I really liked them, Mary. So, I called Narcissa to explain the situation to me.”

Mary just nodded: most of her attention was focused on trying to read Amelia, the way she talked, her movements, her expressions. The rest was consumed by stopping herself from fidgeting.

“You are a brave one, girl. I appreciate that in an artist,” Amelia’s smile dropped. “But I need more. I’m not asking for a musical genius, of course. I need the promise of a star, something we can work with to create a legend. The substance is there, but we need to shape it to make you survive the industry, and it will take some time. You following me?”

“Yes,” replied Mary, because it seemed like an obvious question that still required an explicit, confident answer. Amelia seemed to appreciate it.

“Then this is where Narcissa comes in. She’s offered to become your guide, and help you in this process.”

“I won’t try to change you, Mary,” Narcissa chimed in, “I would help you on the technical preparation and with getting used to this type of life, and once we’re sure you can stand on your feet, we’ll let you go. In this way, I’ll lift some weight off of Amelia’s shoulders,” she smiled, patting her friend’s back, “who will only have to work on the production of the album. After all, the Bones Studios are still relatively small, all in the hands of the Bones twins alone. Are you in? You’re still in time to chicken out.”

Narcissa’s smile was challenging.

Amelia’s was unreadable.

Maybe they weren’t that similar, after all.

“I don’t see why I would refuse,” Mary replied. “Where do I sign?”

Amelia took out the contract, Mary read every single word carefully (and missed the impressed glance that passed between the other two women), and then signed it.

“Welcome to the family, Macdonald. Got any questions?”

“Please, Amelia, you’re itching to get out of here. I can play the evil manager for tonight.” Narcissa intervened, with raised eyebrows.

“It’s work, private matters come second. Mary, do you have any doubts about the contract? Or questions?”

“Not really, everything was pretty clear, and now Narcissa is legally obliged to answer all of my questions, so…”

“You heard her!” laughed Narcissa, “Now go or you’ll be late to your date.”

Amelia grabbed her coat from a chair, heading towards the door but still talking business. “Narcissa will tell me when she considers you ready to work on your debut album.”

“Yeah we know! Hurry, your Hestia is waiting!” Narcissa mocked as Amelia, who was flipping her off, closed the door behind herself.

“Hello,” Narcissa greeted, once it was just the two of them. “We’re coworkers now.”

“It seems so, yeah. That was…fast.” Mary answered, still a bit shaken.

She had just signed a contract with a label.

A real label.

And Narcissa Black was going to teach her to become a proper singer.

The Narcissa Black.

Mary was euphoric.

“Listen, I know you don’t drink, but I think we deserve to celebrate. Do you want a sip?” Narcissa said, pulling out an expensive-looking wine bottle and two fancy glasses.

“No pressure. If you don’t drink, I won’t either.”

Mary considered the offer. She was ecstatic, and she had grown to trust Narcissa, so maybe a glass wouldn’t be so harmful.

“Okay.” she answered, aware she didn’t sound too sure.

“Okay?” Narcissa repeated.

“I’ll take a glass. It’s the beginning of a new era, Narcissa.” Mary assured, sounding more certain. She felt like she could fight God, she wasn’t letting a glass of wine scare her anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetie,” Narcissa smiled, filling the two glasses. “Oh, and you can call me Cissa. You’re my student now!”

“Having you as a teacher will truly be an experience.” Mary grinned, lifting the glass to her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

When Mary left Narcissa’s house, she did so with a newfound hope, and the taste of wine strong but harmless on her lips.

shoutout to @prongsxsluv for being the first to hear abt this <3

@imintothemaraudersera @jpg-of-dorian-slay (i’ve always loved your user no joke)

#let me know if you want more parts!!#the povs will switch and the chapters will be shorter #but since it’s the first it’s almost all #mary #still anxious af #i’ll tag some ppl later #marauders #marauders era #nobleflower #marylily #mary macdonald #narcissa black #amelia bones #marauders era girls #there will be the boys too #at some point lmao #fic: delicate

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