#when the door to my prison is locked shut before me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsofang · 6 months ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months ago

Note

Mob!Bucky having to call his lawyer!wife!reader from prison? And she’s really mad at him? Because she already told him how to not get caught on multiple occasions? And he doesn’t listen to her, even though she’s been manipulating the law for him for years?

So she pays for Sam and Steve’s bail but leaves him in there overnight (just one night) to prove a point?

Lesson Learned » Bucky Barnes (AU)

Pairings: Husband/Mob!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You leave Bucky in jail overnight to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, jail, manipulating the law, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator @jasontoddsmommyissues

Your phone started ringing as soon as you closed your car door. You put your purse and work bag in the passengers seat and looked at the caller ID. It’s the phone number for the local police station. You sighed before answering it.

“Hello?” You answered, leaning back in the driver’s seat.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Bucky smiles on the other side of the phone. “I need your help.” He tells you. “So does Steve and Sam.” He adds on.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” You say before hanging up the phone.

You tossed your phone in the passenger’s seat and started your car, putting your seatbelt on as well. During the drive to the police station, multiple different scenarios of why Bucky got arrested went through your head. You always managed to bend the law so your mob boss husband can stay out of trouble. You know it’s wrong and risky to manipulate the law, but you do it out of love.

You pulled into the parking lot of the police station and shut your car off. Your briefly closed your eyes and took a deep breath before getting of the car and walked towards the entrance of the police station and went inside. You walked to the front desk, your heels echoing through the quiet building. The deputy behind the desk looked up from his phone and looked at you.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The deputy asks.

“I’m here for my husband’s friends Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.” You tell him.

“What about your husband?” He asks, knowing well who Bucky is.

“Keep him overnight and I’ll get him in the morning.” You tell him. “Tell him I love him and I’ll be back in the morning.” You say.

The deputy nodded and went to the holding cell where Bucky, Steve, and Sam are. He took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the cell door.

“Rogers, Wilson, you guys are getting bailed out.” He says.

Steve and Sam stood up and walked out of the cell. Bucky followed suit, but the deputy stopped him.

“Your wife said to keep you overnight.” He said to Bucky.

“That’s funny.” Bucky laughs. “She wouldn’t do that to me.” He says.

“She told me to tell you that she loves you and she’ll be back in the morning for you.” He told him.

Bucky laughed at the deputy, thinking he was joking. Steve and Sam furrowed their eyebrows in confusion and exchanged looks. The deputy closed the cell door and locked it, walking away with Steve and Sam following behind him.

“Seriously?!” Bucky shouts.

Steve and Sam seen the pissed off look on your face when they walked in the lobby of the police station. They know that look. They’ve seen that look one too many times.

You gave the deputy a kind smile before opening the door, waiting for Steve and Sam to walk out. You followed behind them and the three of you got in the car without saying a word.

“How come you didn’t bail Bucky out like you normally do?” Sam asks curiously.

“I’m doing this to teach him a lesson.” You say, keeping your eyes on the road.

The car ride was silent the whole time. You took Sam home first. He said a quiet goodbye and got out of the car. Then you took Steve home.

“Y/N?” Steve speaks up.

“Don’t.” You say, almost clenching your teeth.

“At least hear Bucky out.” He says before getting out of the car.

You sighed and went home. You walked inside of yours and Bucky’s mansion. It’s quiet without Bucky. Too quiet. You went upstairs to yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You put your purse and work bag on the floor next to the dresser. You changed out of your work clothes and into pajamas -Bucky’s- t-shirt. You flopped on the bed and sighed loudly. After a moment, you got comfortable in bed and turned the TV on to take your mind off the fact that your husband is staying in jail overnight.

Meanwhile, Bucky was sitting on the bench in the cell. His head was leaning against the wall and his jaw was clenched, trying to think of why his wife would leave him in jail overnight. He always assumes that you’ll get him out of trouble, because you’re one of the best lawyers in Brooklyn, New York. What he does know is he’s beyond pissed and it’s going to be a long night for him.

The next morning, you woke up early and laid in bed for a moment. You already know that Bucky is going to be mad at you for leaving in jail overnight so you prepared yourself for that. You got out of bed and got dressed to get your husband out of jail.

You walked in the police station and went to the front desk, seeing the same deputy from last night.

“You know who I’m here for.” You tell him.

The deputy nodded and went to the holding cell Bucky is in. He unlocked the cell door and opened it.

“Your wife is here.” The deputy told him.

Bucky stood up and walked out of the cell to the lobby. When you seen him, he had bruised knuckles and a couple bruises on his face. That automatically tells you that Bucky, Steve, and Sam got into a fight and landed them in jail yesterday. Bucky walked out to the car and got in without saying a word. About halfway home, he finally says something.

“Oh yea, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Bucky says sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes at your husband’s sarcastic comment and continued the drive home. When you two got home, Bucky immediately went to the bathroom in yours and his bedroom to take a shower. Meanwhile, you decided to catch up on some work since you decided to take the day off to bail your husband out of jail and to talk to him. About 20 minutes later, Bucky walks in your home office clean and wearing comfortable clothes. To get your attention, he closed your laptop.

“How could you?” He asks.

“I did it for a reason, James.” You say, leaning back in your desk chair.

“It better be a damn good one.” He says.

“To teach you a lesson.” You say.

Bucky scoffs as he watches you stand up and walk out of your office. He follows closely behind you.

“What lesson?” He asks.

“You know what it is.” You say.

“Clearly I don’t. Mind telling me what it is?” He says.

You silently walked in the kitchen and opened the freezer, grabbing an ice pack. You turned around and grabbed Bucky’s hand, putting the ice pack on it.

“Ever since we met, I always managed to bend the law for you.” You leaned against the kitchen counter. “Every time you get arrested, I always come up with a lie and tell the cops it’s just a misunderstanding and you managed to get out scot free.” You say.

“Yea, I know that. What’s your point?” He asks.

“My point is, I’m risking my fucking job for you!” You yelled, catching Bucky off guard with your sudden change of voice. “Every time I bend the law for you, it scares me knowing that I can possibly get in trouble for it!” You say.

“Then why do you do it?” He asks.

“I do it cause I love you and I don’t want to go to jail for the rest of your life!” You yelled, your eyes began to water.

Bucky stood there, not knowing what to say. You walked away and went to yours and Bucky’s bedroom, closing the door behind you. You threw yourself on the bed and started crying in your pillow.

Meanwhile, Bucky still stood in the kitchen speechless. All this time, he thought you bent the law to help him, which is part of the reason. He didn’t know you were doing it out of love. He felt like an idiot all the times he got arrested and you bent the law for him to get out of jail. He put the ice pack back in the freezer and went upstairs to the bedroom.

“Darling?” Bucky knocked on the bedroom door a couple times. “Darling, please.” He pleads.

He put his hand on the door knob and turned it, expecting the door to be locked, but it wasn’t. It was unlocked. Bucky slowly opened the door to see you crying your eyes out on the bed. He closed the door behind him and approached the bed, laying down next to you.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He apologizes softly, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry for being so stupid and getting arrested.” He says.

You sniffled and sat up. Bucky sat up next to you, reaching a hand forward to wipe your tears away. He caressed your cheek and leaned forward, kissing you passionately. He pulled his lips away from yours, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Last night when I took Steve home, he told me to hear you out.” You said. “What did he mean by that?” You asked.

Bucky took a deep breath before saying anything.

“When Steve, Sam, and I went to the bar last night…” Bucky starts. “There was this guy talking about you and I let him get to me.” He says.

“What do you mean he was talking about me? Was he talking bad about me?” You asked.

“No, just the opposite.” He answers. “He was saying how hot you are.” He explained. “The next thing I know, I punched him in the face. His friends jumped in, Steve and Sam fought them off.” He tells you. “They got arrested too.” He says.

You couldn’t help but smile when Bucky basically said that he defended your honor. You moved yourself onto his lap and hugged him.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say.

“I had to. He was talking about my wife.” Bucky says.

“Thank you.” You say, kissing his lips softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, honey. I’d do it regardless.” He says.

You kissed his lips once more before Bucky maneuvered the two of you so you guys are laying down. You looked deep in his blue eyes while caressing his stubbly cheek.

“Can you at least try to be better and not get arrested every so often?” You asked.

“I’ll try my best, babe.” Bucky says softly.

“That goes for Steve and Sam too.” You say.

“They might listen better than me.” He says with a chuckle.

“I love you so much, baby.” You almost whispered, kissing him sweetly.

“I love you more, baby girl.” He whispers against your lips.

Bucky knows one thing… he sure as hell learned his lesson.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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greengoblinswifey · 8 days ago

Text

Counsel and the Accused—Luigi Mangione x Lawyer!Reader

summary— You’re a lawyer defending Luigi Mangione, a charming man accused of murdering a high-profile CEO. As you work closely on his case, a forbidden attraction grows between you, leading to passion that blurs the lines between duty and desire. Based on this request.

warnings— choking, praise kink, prison quickie, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— You guys were at my neck for more Luigi content so enjoy <3 FREE HIM!

You entered the prison’s meeting room, the door clicking shut behind you. Luigi Mangione was sitting there, his frame stretched out in the chair, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. The CEO murder suspect had a way of commanding attention, even in a place like this.

His smirk spread when you walked in. “I didn’t expect you so early, Ms. Y/L/N.” The way he said it, smooth and casual, sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t about to let him see it.

You placed your briefcase on the table, taking a seat across from him. “We need to focus on your defense, Luigi,” you said, trying to sound composed. “You’re facing serious charges. I’m not here for small talk.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Is that really why you’re here, though?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze intense. “Or is there something else? You come in here, all professional, but I can see the way you look at me. I can feel it.”

He was always so flirty with you despite the place and conditions he was in. It was like when you were around, nothing else mattered.

You held his stare, refusing to back down. “I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Luigi chuckled, his signature smirk widening as he leaned closer. “Maybe, but if you were really just here to do your job, you wouldn’t be biting your lip right now. That’s not very professional, is it?”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him win. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” His voice dropped, the words sending a delicious thrill down your spine. “I know you’re curious. Maybe more than you’d like to admit. And it’s not just my case you’re interested in, is it?”

You scoffed, trying to maintain control. “You think you can just distract me like that? You’re wrong, Mangione. This is about your future, not whatever you think this is.”

Luigi smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made your heart race. “I don’t think it’s just me who’s distracted, though.” He reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours lightly. “I think you’re just as interested in me as I am in you. It’s alright to admit it, sweetheart. I’m good at reading people.”

You didn’t pull your hand away, despite the heat pooling in your chest. His touch sent a thrill through you, and despite every logical thought screaming at you to stay focused, you found yourself leaning closer. “You’re full of yourself,” you murmured, though it came out softer than you intended.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

There was a beat of silence. The air between you two felt charged with unspoken words. His gaze dipped to your lips for just a moment before flicking back up to your eyes. “I think you want this as much as I do. And if I’m wrong, well, you can always walk out.” His challenge was clear, daring you to take the next step.

You were trembling slightly, fighting the undeniable pull between you. Finally, the tension cracked, and you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a heated, desperate kiss. It was fierce, hungry, as if you both had been holding back for too long.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer, making it impossible to think about anything but him. Your breath mingled as the kiss became more urgent, the room spinning around you both.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but smirk. “You got what you wanted.”

Luigi's eyes gleamed, still holding you close. “Maybe,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, “but I think I want more.”

“Then it’ll have to be quick and worth both our while.” Your lips hovered just above his as you spoke, the closeness sending a thrill through you.

You met his gaze, feeling the heat of the moment. “You’re right, wouldn’t want us to get in any trouble,” he replied, your voice steady. Luigi’s smirk returned, his eyes glinting with that familiar confidence. “I can work with that.” His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he moved with an urgency that matched the tension in the room.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he had moved swiftly, lifting you and guiding you onto the desk. The change in position caught you off guard, but you couldn’t deny the thrill of it.

His voice was low, but there was a softness to it, a contrast to the intensity of the moment. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, a reassuring tone in his voice. “You’re so beautiful.” His words sent a rush of warmth through you, a reminder that despite the charged energy between you, there was a tenderness to his touch.

His eyes locked in yours, the air filled with lust as he rode your skirt up and shifted your thong. He smirked looking down at the laced adorned fabric then lifted his gaze back to yours. His soft fingers collected your wetness, spreading it across your pussy then settling on your clit as he rubbed slow circles, preparing you to take his cock.

“You’re so wet, not to professional of you is it?” he whispered, voice husky.

“No teasing, Luigi,” you muttered, your breath ragged.

He pulled down the bottoms of his orange jumpsuit then his boxers went next, revealing a thick, hard cock. He was long, too, surely to hit all the right places and fill you up just right.

“Like what you see, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked, cockily.

“I think I’d much rather feel it,” you retorted.

You held onto the desk, the rhythm of your breathing matching his, as he positioned the leaking tip of his cock against your pussy. He slowly pushed into you, your walls twitching around him as he filled you up, making you feel every inch and vein. He was so thick, the stretch practically burning as he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size. Luigi was strikingly handsome, it was no surprise he had the package to match.

Luigi moved with purpose, careful yet insistent, and his words followed, each one laced with encouragement. “That’s it, just like that, take my cock inside that tight pussy.”

You moaned quietly, hands moving to his biceps as he rolled his hips to meet yours. Looking down, you stared briefly at his cock only half way moving inside you. He couldn’t even fit all of him in yet you still felt so full.

A hand snaking around your throat snapped you out of your thoughts. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

Adhering to his command, your gaze fixated on his as he pounded into you. The lust and pure ferocity in his eyes made your pussy flutter and he gripped your neck tighter to ground himself.

“You feel so fucking perfect. I knew I would have you like this since the moment I saw you. I knew you needed good fuck,” he muttered.

Your jaw fell agape in response, breathy gasps and moans leaving it as he repeatedly slammed into your g spot.

“Oh baby, you grip my dick so tight when I slam against your g spot like that. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he said.

His pace increased and the desk rocked as he helped you chase your orgasm and soon he felt your body convulse underneath his touch. His lips crashed against yours, stifling loud moans as your orgasm ripped through you like a sharp knife. He slowly pulled out and you squirted on his cock and his orange jumpsuit, your pussy practically gushing like a fountain.

“Fucking hell, you really needed this didn’t you baby? I know you did, I could see it in your eyes. How much you needed to be fucked good,” he murmured.

He wasn’t finished with you yet though. With his hand snaked around your neck, he pushed you flat onto the hard desk and thrusted harshly inside you. This time, every inch of his cock filled you up, the tight fit making you squirm underneath him.

“You can take it. You’re a good girl aren’t you?” he asked. You nodded frantically, a small pout on your lips as if begging him to move but slowly.

He began slamming into you harshly, the desk creaking underneath you and your braids that were once in a bun now lay messy framing your face as you lay on the desk at your client’s mercy. What would the officers think if they saw you like this? The public? The media? Deep down though, you didn’t care.

If anything, you’d want them to see you like this. You’d want the whole world to see Luigi fucking you like the slut you were. You’d want the world to see his hand around your neck stopping your breath as his cock practically brushed your cervix. And you’d especially want those little fan girls to see that Luigi Mangione belonged to you and you were the only girl he would be fucking.

You spread your legs even wider, giving him a clear view of your pussy as he pounded into you, the sound of squelching the best thing he had heard all those weeks being in prison.

“You’re so wet, so fucking beautiful, taking me so well,” he praised.

He lifted a foot onto the desk, angling his big cock even deeper and you knew you were about to cum again.

“Shit baby, cum with me, squirt on my cock while I cum inside you. Now,” he growled, cock throbbing inside your walls.

Your back arched from the desk as another intense orgasm took ahold of you and you squirted on his cock once more. His cum filled you up, your pussy juices spurting it out after, creating a large wet patch on his jumpsuit.

He hovered on top of you, both of you breathing heavily as the weight of the moment settled. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, “I knew you could handle my cock. You did so well for me.”

The air between you and Luigi was still charged, though the intensity had softened into something warmer, gentler. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean cloth, and his movements were slow, as if he wanted to savor the quiet moment.

“Let me take care of you,” he said softly, his voice low but tender as he carefully cleaned you up. His touch was light, and when he finished, he cupped your cheek with his hand.

You looked up at him, still catching your breath, and he smiled faintly, brushing a braid behind your ear. Then, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, the gesture so unexpected that it sent a wave of warmth straight to your chest.

“You okay?” he asked, his thumb grazing your cheek in a way that felt more intimate than anything else that had happened.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine.”

There was a beat of silence before you adjusted your position, sitting straighter on the desk. With a playful grin, you met his eyes. “Now,” you said, smoothing your skirt back into place, “to discuss the severity of your charges.”

Luigi chuckled, leaning back slightly but not stepping too far away. The smirk on his lips was both familiar and maddening. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

Before you could retort, he leaned back in, catching your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, softer, his hand rested on your waist, anchoring you to him, and when he finally pulled back, he whispered, “For the record, you’re even better than I imagined.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Let’s keep this professional from here on out, Mangione.”

His smirk only widened. “Whatever you say, Counselor.”

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holyhadesimweird · 1 month ago

Text

photo from rorokonaa on twitter

captain curly x reader

trigger warnings : mentions of attempted sa/abuse (not really specified) and jimmy

summary : a butterfly effect in which curly steps up the moment he can after finding out something happened to you, causing the events of the game to never happen.

note : i have not written fanfic in many years, i'm so sorry and this is warning my writing may be dogass still or even worse than it was before. anyways, enjoy!

the moment anya speaks your name when informing him something happened to one of the crew mates, he runs. his heart has never beat so fast in his life, curly thinks he may die if he doesn't reach you.

as he runs to the cockpit, curly's mind races to an image of what anya's face looked like when she told him something happened to you. that bruise on her face scared the shit out of him.

was jimmy a bad man this entire time? after knowing him for so many years curly wants to doubt it, but the image of anya and knowing you were in danger because of jimmy doesn't allow him to even doubt that jimmy is a horrible man.

as he runs, daisuke and sawnsea see him and decide to run after him. neither of them are fast enough to keep up with curly's desperate running and are left behind.

curly can hear jimmy yelling and your sobs as he approaches the cockpit, making him push forward and into the cockpit when the door opens.

"what did you do to her?!" curly yells as he pushes jimmy away from your curled up frame in the corner of the room.

"nothing at all captain, i came to check on her-" jimmy is cut off as curly's fist makes contact with his jaw.

"bull-fucking-shit you liar. anya came directly to me after you hit her and i could hear you yelling at her. if you move, i will kick your teeth in." curly threatened.

it was at this moment daisuke and swansea's footsteps could be heard approaching the cockpit. as they reached the doorway, anya' lighter footsteps could be heard as well.

"what in the fuck is happening?" swansea questions.

"swansea, pick him up and take him to the kitchen. do not let him out of your sight until i come see you. daisuke, stay with him and watch too." curly orders.

"but curly-" jimmy tries.

"no, we're gonna talk about what you did. there will be a punishment." curly states as swansea grabs jimmy, not saying a word as him and daisuke take him to the kitchen.

"thank you for helping. i- i- didn't know what else to do." anya says quietly, kneeling down beside you. your sobs have quieted down but it broke curly's heart seeing you like this.

"thank you so much curly, i owe you so much. he- he kept trying to do things to me but i kept fighting and he hit me again right before you came in. i think he-" you rambled.

"listen to me, you don't owe me anything. i'll kick his teeth in before he goes near you again. i'm so sorry he-." curly kneels. he takes your hand and anya quietly gets up to leave for you two to have a moment alone.

"i was so scared i was going to lose you. i'm so sorry this happened and i wish i could go back in time to protect you. i'm here now and i won't let anything else happen to you. you're the most important thing to me and i can't bear losing you." curly rushes and stands up. "i'm going to make things right."

anya is stood outside of the room and makes her way inside to stay with you as curly marches towards the kitchen.

once he arrives in the kitchen he can see that swansea and daisuke have tied up jimmy who is yelling and trashing against the ropes. making his way to where they all are, curly decided on what to do.

"shut up and listen to me jimmy. you do not deserve to be free after this. you will be locked, barricaded, i don't care, in your room until this job is finished. it does not matter that pony express is kicking the can, because you'll be rotting right along with them in prison when we get back on earth. i'll make sure of it." curly spits out to jimmy.

"you don't deserve to be captain, i was going to be the hero in this story and you ruined it! i had a plan!" jimmy exclaims. "i was going to-" jimmy was cut off as swansea stands up from where he was sitting.

"you're insane. daisuke, come help me." swansea says eerily calmly.

when curly finally finds you after locking jimmy up in his room and leaving daisuke and swansea to guard. you're in your quarters, on your bed sleeping with anya sitting next to you, clearly on edge as she jumps when curly enters your room.

"thank you anya, for everything." curly says, offering her a smile and a hug.

"she's my friend and you both mean the world to me. when i realized i wouldn't be able to fight him off and help her, i knew i had to get help. i wish i could've done more." she says.

"you did your best and did the right thing. without you, who knows what could've happened. i'm just extremely sorry i didn't believe you at first when you tried warning me about him." he thanks and apologizes.

"i'll leave you two alone. goodnight captain."

curly takes a seat where anya was sitting and takes your hand.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

"curly? curly!"

curly swears he hears someone call his name and blinks awake. the sight in front of him is other worldly and he wants to bask in it forever. you look beautiful despite everything that happened recently and he's happy to see you smiling at him.

"hey big man. thank you for protecting me, i don't know how to thank you. anya told me what you did with..... him. thank you." you thank him.

"it's the least i could do. you're important to me and i would do anything for you." he says sincerely. "...listen, i don't want to ruin this, but i have to go check on something in the cockpit. i'll be right back."

"of course, i can join you for the walk. but i might have to stay behind a little bit." you say.

"that is perfectly fine. we can go at your pace. i have to keep an eye on the controls for the next day, autopilot detected a possibility of needing course correction. let's go make sure we don't crash."

grabbing your hand, you and curly slowly but surely make your way to the cockpit to contact the company and to correct the autopilot route.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

it takes time, but by the end of the tulpar's journey, you are able to navigate the entirety of the ship without being scared.

you and curly become closer and he attempts to have a romantic dinner with you to ask you to be his significant other, but it doesn't go according to plan. however, you two love joking and talking about how the night you became an official couple.

having jimmy on the ship is hard for the entire crew for the rest of the journey, but when landing on earth and seeing law enforcement ready to take jimmy away, it feels like a weight has been lifted from the entire crew.

#thanks for reading!#i haven't done this in a while #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing fic

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months ago

Text

Blood of My Blood

Summary: Stuck between duty and passion, she is given no choice but to yield to the game Aemond wishes to play | Words: 4.1k~ | Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, incest (character is implied to have strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping, forced marriage

Can be read as a stand-alone or as a part two for The Blood is Rare!

His fingers tightened around her arm, the pressure a mix of anger and possessiveness. He forcefully ushered her across the threshold of the chambers she once called home, back when she resided there alongside the Hightower children. The worn flagstones caused her feet to stumble, while her forearm throbbed with bruises from his grip. She shot him a glance filled with both hurt and fury.

“You cannot treat me like this,” she spat viciously.

Aemond merely stepped back, his expression unyielding. "You are to be my wife. I'll treat you as I please."

Before she could reach the double doors, they slammed shut, brass fixtures rattling as Aemond hastened to secure her inside. Despite her feeble attempts to push back against the doors, her fists bruised from the effort, he locked her in without hesitation.

“They will come for me!” she screamed in protest, “unlock this, at once!”

Locked within the confines of the chamber, her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and defiance. She paced the room, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and retribution. Outside, the distant echoes of footsteps and murmured voices hinted at the presence of guards or servants, but she knew she couldn't rely on them for help.

King Viserys was dead. And Alicent Hightower planted her son on her mother’s throne.

As the hours dragged on, her frustration grew with each passing moment. She tried every possible means of escape, but the sturdy oak doors remained firmly shut, sealing her fate within the chamber. Her mind raced with thoughts of her family, of the kingdom thrown into turmoil by the sudden death of King Viserys. And now, with Aemond's revelation of his family's plan to anoint Aegon on the morrow, she realised the true extent of the danger she faced.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing outside her prison. The door creaked open, and Aemond stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. She studied his face, and saw he looked slightly withered and tired, covered with a mask of coldness.

"We have much to discuss," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But first, you must understand the gravity of the situation."

She eyed him warily, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Aegon will be crowned tomorrow," he explained, his tone solemn. "And my family has plans for us as well."

Her stomach churned with dread as she listened to his words. "What plans?"

"A marriage," he said simply, his gaze unwavering. "In the traditions of our ancestors, to solidify our alliance and secure our place in the new realm."

Her mind reeled at the thought of marrying the man who had imprisoned her against her will. But she knew that in the game of thrones, alliances were forged with marriages as much as with swords.

A tension-laden silence filled the chamber, thick with unspoken words and unyielding resolve. her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options, acutely aware of the consequences of her decision. The memory of their clandestine tryst, a moment of forbidden passion she dared not admit she had enjoyed, lingered in the recesses of her mind, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation.

"I will not be your pawn," she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

A flicker of anger flashed across Aemond's face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold mask of indifference.

"You have no choice," he said icily. "You will marry me, for the good of our families and the realm. Just as Daeron will wed a Baratheon girl, to secure-"

She shook her head stubbornly, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I will not be forced into a marriage I do not want."

Aemond's gaze narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not be foolish, mandianna. You have a duty to your family, to the legacy of House Targaryen. You will marry me, and you will bear me heirs to secure our place in history."

But she refused to be swayed by his empty words. "I will not be your broodmare, and I will not be shackled to you for the rest of my days," she declared, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Not when you have already taken so much from me."

Aemond's expression darkened, his features contorted with anger. "Do not speak to me of what I have taken," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You gave yourself to me willingly, and now you will suffer the consequences."

She swallowed thickly, her pride blurring the edges of what she knew was the truth.

“He is no King of mine.”

A heavy silence settled over the chamber, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a shroud of defiance. Aemond's eye blazed with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as if he might shatter his teeth with the force of his anger. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them palpable. The threat of declaring treason hung heavy.

Finally, Aemond broke the silence, his voice cold and menacing. "You dare to defy me," he hissed, his words dripping with contempt. "You would betray your own blood, your own family, for the sake of your misguided principles?"

She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted defiantly despite the tremble in her limbs. "I will not betray my mother," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at her insides. "You speak of blood after years of declaring me and my brothers alike your sole distaste.”

Aemond's nostrils flared with barely contained rage at her words, his eye narrowing into a slit as he took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "Do not presume to lecture me on matters of blood," he seethed, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You may share the blood of House Targaryen, but you lack the fire that defines our lineage."

“Careful, Uncle,” she whispered, her voice tinged with fury, “I am as much Targaryen as you.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Aemond's features, his gaze faltering for a moment before hardening once more into a mask of disdain. "You may share the name, but you lack the strength and resolve to wield it," he sneered, his words like a lash that cut through the air between them. "You are nothing but a weak, insignificant girl who fancies herself a dragon."

Her jaw tightened at Aemond's cutting words, her resolve hardening as she refused to let his insults diminish her spirit. "Strength is not defined by the size of one's flames, Uncle," she retorted, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

Aemond's lip curled in a mixture of anger and begrudging admiration. Despite himself, he couldn't deny the fire that burned within her, the same fire that had characterised the Targaryen bloodline for generations. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded, his voice low and grudgingly impressed. "But spirit alone will not save you from the realities of this world."

She held his gaze, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she felt the tension between them crackle like lightning in the air. Despite their antagonistic exchange, there was an undeniable chemistry that simmered just beneath the surface, a primal attraction that neither of them could ignore.

As if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Aemond took another step closer, his eye darkening with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "You may defy me, niece," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "But deep down, you know that we are bound together by more than just blood and duty."

She felt her throat close up, her body betraying what she wanted him to believe about her. That she recoiled at the mere sight of him. That she could not bear to be within the same quarters. That she hated him.

And all of it was a lie.

She would not have given herself so freely to him in that darkened alcove if she truly loathed him. And yet her pride marred the truth.

“You will be my wife,” Aemond stated, his voice devoid of negotiation. It was a command, wrapped in the certainty of his position, a reflection of the harsh realities of their lineage and the role they played in the ongoing struggle for power.

Her reaction was a mix of defiance and disbelief. This was not the offer of a partner, but the demand of a prince used to being obeyed. Yet, even as the words hung in the air between them, she could not ignore the complex web of emotions that tied her to this man. There was no love in this arrangement, but there was something else—something harder to define.

“You speak of marriage as though it were another battle to be won. I am not spoils of war to be claimed.”

Aemond’s eye, ever so piercing, momentarily hardened, hinting at the turmoil beneath his princely facade. His hand flew out, gripping her jaw as he had done that steamy evening, clutching her skin in his long fingers - a warning.

“Come with me, willingly or not. It is your choice, niece.”

Her eyes locked onto his with a fierceness that could rival any dragon's gaze, attempting to sear his very soul with her stare. Yet, in defiance of the forceful hand upon her jaw, she wrenched herself free, her breathing heavy with indignation. The so-called choice he presented felt like a cruel jest, highlighting the absence of any real agency she possessed.

The machinations of the Greens had cornered her into this union with Aemond, rendering any thought of escape futile from the outset.

Their wedding was a somber affair, marked more by the exchange of solemn vows and cold, resentful looks than any semblance of joy or union. Throughout the ceremony, her thoughts wandered, detached from the grim proceedings. And when the final blessings were about to be pronounced, she turned abruptly, her last vestiges of defiance carrying her away to the solitude of her quarters.

The sense of betrayal that churned within her was overwhelming, a treachery not only to her mother's cause but to herself. The disappointment her family would feel loomed over her, a burden more oppressive than the iron crown could ever be.

Moreover, the realisation that this marriage was orchestrated merely to secure an heir, to bind her bloodline to Aemond's as a political safeguard against total war, was revolting.

Standing alone, she tried to steady her trembling hands by focusing on the wine cup she held, just as Aemond's footsteps halted behind her. She braced herself for an encounter she dreaded, yet his next words took her by surprise.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” he said simply.

She spun around, half-expecting to confront a man prepared to enforce his will regardless of her consent. Instead, she met his gaze and found something unexpected—a reflection of restraint and perhaps a hint of understanding.

In that moment, a complex array of emotions coursed through her, challenging her perceptions and forcing her to acknowledge the intricate layers of their predicament.

“I will not lay with you tonight. You do not wish it.”

Her guard, so meticulously maintained, began to falter at the honesty in his words. "And what of tomorrow?" she asked, a tinge of cynicism threading her question. "When the sun rises, will your sense of duty not dictate our interactions?”

"It likely will," he conceded, the corners of his mouth turning down in a grimace. "But tonight, you've had enough battles to face. I won't add to them."

The silence that fell between them was filled with a tentative understanding, a fragile thread connecting two individuals caught in the crossfire of political machinations and familial obligations.

Yet, she was acutely aware that Aemond was not a mere bystander in the unfolding of these events. And it would be a mistake for him to assume she would quietly acquiesce to their circumstances.

Throughout the following day, Aemond's absence hung over her like a shadow, his presence felt more in his lack than in actuality. The dread of uncertainty twisted in her stomach, her mind conjuring scenarios that left her restless and wide-eyed, staring at the chamber doors until the early hours. The knowledge of her new status as his wife did nothing to ease her apprehension. It only highlighted her vulnerability, the potential for him to assert his marital rights in a way that robbed her of any semblance of control.

Yet, despite her fears, Aemond remained absent, his intentions opaque, leaving her to grapple with the anxiety of anticipation alone. The silence of the night was broken only by the distant, powerful beats of Vhagar's wings, a sound that resonated with ominous foreboding. She watched from her window as the great dragon, with Aemond upon her back, vanished into the stormy clouds that brooded overhead.

When Aemond returned to their chambers, it was not the composed prince who entered but a man storming in, soaked to the bone, his demeanor radiating tight, barely controlled anger. The storm outside mirrored his internal tempest, the rain that clung to him a testament to the chaos that seemed to follow in his wake.

His sudden appearance in the dead of night, the way he moved with a predatory grace, charged the air with a palpable tension. She could see in his expression the fracture of a man who had lost control, his ego bruised by the events that had transpired, a dangerous edge to his anger that made her heart race.

In that moment, the dynamics of their relationship stood on a knife's edge, the events of the night poised to define the course of their future interactions. It was a test of wills, a confrontation between power and vulnerability, where the choices they made could either bridge the gap between them or widen it into an insurmountable chasm.

"Aemond," she began, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to choke her words. "What has happened?"

He halted mid-pace, turning towards her. The flicker of the candles reflected off his wet face, casting shadows that made his expression all the more inscrutable. "The game has changed," he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

Her eyes traced his movements, every nerve alight.

“What game?” She dared to ask.

Aemond's gaze was steel, the kind that cut deeper than swords. "The game we're all pawns in—the game for the Iron Throne." His words were heavy, laden with a darkness that seemed to suck the warmth from the room.

“Aemond, tell me plainly. What have you done.”

Her voice was terse, but it trembled.

There was a hardness in his gaze, a glint of something fierce and unyielding.

"Luke," he finally uttered, his tone laden with a severity that chilled her to the bone.

In that instant, clarity and horror crashed over her like a wave. Luke was gone, his life extinguished in the brutal game of thrones that spared no one, not even the innocent. A gnawing question arose within her: Had her mother been informed, or was she, too, left in the dark until now?

The realisation that Aemond, now her husband, had been responsible for her brother's death sent a shiver of fear down her spine. The man standing before her, cloaked in shadows and rain, was no longer just the prince she had been bound to in a marriage of convenience. He was a killer, capable of extinguishing a life—a life she had cherished. Luke's laughter, his teasing smile, the memories they shared, all extinguished in a moment's violence. And if Luke, then why not her?

Aemond's demeanour shifted, perhaps sensing the change in her perception. "You fear me now," he stated, not a question but a flat acknowledgement.

She took a cautious step back, her mind racing. The man before her, powerful enough to command dragons and armies, had shown he did not shy away from kinslaying. "I believe I ought to" she countered, her voice a whisper of defiance.

He paused, and in that silence, the harsh reality of their situation seemed to settle around them like a cloak. As Aemond moved closer, intending to assert himself, she couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to retreat. The space between them, filled with the unsaid and the undone, seemed insurmountable.

She could not help the stark whimper that escaped her when his fingers formed a fist in her hair at the back of her head, pulling her unyielding face up to meet his, his angered breath spilling over her face.

“You believe I would harm you.”

How could she not? She thought. He had so often shown a calm, quiet anger. And unleashed it all within a short afternoon, with Luke's body somewhere at the bottom of the sea surrounding Storm’s End.

“You dare to question this when you have murdered my brother,” she spat back at him.

Jaw clenched, Aemond raised his other hand to his eye patch, quickly ripping it off to reveal to her what was beneath it. The angry red scar extended from his forehead to his cheek, jagged, clumsy. And where his eye would have been was raw, a bright sapphire sitting firmly within the socket, forboding.

Of course, she knew what Luke had done, but she had never seen him like this. Fear gripped at her skin, and a strange throbbing between her thighs at the way he looked over her like this. Thought she attempted to now show that on her face.

Her expression must have mirrored poor Luke's mere hours before, as her new husband gazed down at her, his demeanour terrifyingly calm.

“You defend your little bastard brother after how he has maimed me?”

“Aemond, please-” she pleaded, only moving away an inch before her husband tugged her back, tighter.

“Your brother was of no use to this realm. But you,” he spat, one hand tucking up her skirts and then meanly digging at her hips, “I need your sweet little cunt for my heirs, mandianna.”

She felt her mouth go dry, unable to say a thing. She whimpered again when he used his grip on her hair to turn her body around, keeping her back towards his chest, his fingers slipped along her jaw, as if to communicate that he could wrap them around her throat at any moment.

Aemond was sitting on a knife’s edge. And she dare not tilt him in any particular direction. Equally though, she dare not admit to herself that it was exciting in a most forbidden way.

“You are my wife,” he murmured quietly, sliding her small clothes down her thigh, flourishing with gooseflesh, “and who am I to deny her her duty?”

She suppressed a yelp when her hands lay flat on the table, her breasts pressed hard against the oak as she felt Aemond's rapidly growing harness at her backside where he was rucking up her skirts.

Though she tried to wriggle free of him, one hand at the nape of her neck with undeniable strength was all it took to remind her how much smaller she was than him. How difficult it would be to resist. Does she just go through with it? Let her Uncle, her brother's murderer, take her like a common whore whenever he wishes?

She could envisage no escape, and as ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she could do nothing but submit. At least there would be some pleasure.

She jolted as his slender fingers parted her folds with a click of her essence coated his digits, dragging his touch from her opening to her overly-sensitive bud.

“See how wet you become for me still,” he murmured, pressing his chest against her back, broad body caging her in, “though I am the greatest sinner in the realm, your body still begs for it, sweet niece. What does that make you?”

“Kepus, please-”

“A traitor to your own kin?” He whispered, exhaling shakily when he nudged her legs apart an inch and slipped the fat head of his cock between her arousal-glistened folds, disappearing into her without effort.

Her lips parted, a quiet moan slipping past at being split onto his length. And though little time had passed since their first tryst, she still felt the sting and girth of him as if it were.

Aemond groaned deeply, at the feeling of her sucking him in so willingly, her walls greedily tightening around his length.

“Or loyal to your kinslaying husband?” He added huskily.

How was she to respond when the air was incessantly pushed right from her lungs at every snap of his hips? The table legs creaked against the floor and her breasts ached from being pressed down to the oak by the tight grip of his fingers around her nape.

She wanted to say that he was brutalising her, taking what he wanted with no care for her pleasure, but even that wouldn't be true. Aemond's rhythmic grunts came hot against her ear as he rutted into her, his hand kneading the flesh of her buttock in one hand, grasping tightly to allow himself deeper access to her.

She felt as if she was betraying herself, moaning the way she was. And Aemond certainly did not miss a thing.

“Stubborn little cunt - saying you don't want it but I can feel you begging for my seed -”

The mocking tone of his voice had her clench around him, humiliation clawing at her skin the more Aemond speared her onto his length in quick rhythmic movements. Her moisture coated his shaft, his pelvis painting the inside of her thighs with it in the heat of their passion.

Aemond looked down between them, his fingers leaving red marks on her buttock the more he gripped. Both hands drifted either side, pulling at her supple flesh to watch the way her cunt took him, his lips parted in appreciation of how he disappeared into her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling so boneless that she did not attempt to wiggle away when he was no longer holding her down. Instead her fingers curled over the table for stability in a desperate plea to ground herself from the hot, tight feeling building every time his cock hit her fleshy, wet end.

And just when she was getting used to the feeling, Aemond pulled her hips back to him, elevating her hips and slamming into her at an angle which brushed against that deep, sweet place inside her.

A tingly, warm sensation fluttered up her spine, “kepus-”

“-fucking say you want it-” he murmured between breaths, pulling her onto him quicker the close the became to completion.

She bit her lip, if anything, using the last bit of her power to not give him the satisfaction of thinking she did in fact want it. So she remained silent, which only made his thrusts more aggressive and assertive.

“-I’ll give you my seed, watch you grow fat with child - and just when you think it's over, I'll fuck another one into you-”

Her nails dug into the oak, scraping painfully, lips parted in a soundless scream as she felt that wave of warmth and bliss crest, unable to control the way she fluttered around him.

Aemond strained, words caught tightly in his throat as he spilled inside of her, pulling her hips flush to him as if to mold himself to her irreparably. She shamefully felt herself tremble, her release still sending dull shockwaves through her blood as Aemond remained seated firmly within her.

She thought of her family. And how they would come to hate her for what she had become, allowing the man who had killed her brother to take her like this. She surely thought they would no longer see her the same with Aemond's child in her belly and tied to him by marriage.

Tears threatened at her eyes, two feelings at war with one another, shame and pleasure.

She whimpered when Aemond pulled his softening cock from her, a rush of warm spend spilling down her thigh in a way that only exacerbated her humiliation.

“You will write to your mother and tell her of your loyalties.”

Aemond spoke so coldly in between soft pants, it was as if he was hardly the man she had known a few moments ago. It has always been like this. But in a way, it is what made him exciting. Unpredictability was as much exhilarating as it was terrifying.

A notion she held to as she glanced at him, his good eye hooded and blown wide and black with lust and the sapphire glinting in the orange glow of the room as if bloodthirsty.

The game had to be played. And if this was the way Aemond wanted to do it, then so be it.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

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enhas-pov · 3 months ago

Text

enemies by blood

summary: born in a mafia family definitely wasn’t easy. especially when your dad’s enemy’s son, park sunghoon goes to your school. reader and sunghoon grew up hating each other due to their father’s bad past with each other, but what’s gonna happen when they want their kids to finish what they started?

warnings: (gang)violence, lots of fighting, murder, blood, drugs, money laundering, guns, kissing, usage of "oppa", pet names, bad ending

word count: 4.5k

note: i haven’t read through it‼️ ignore spelling mistakes

pt.2

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my whole life i`ve felt like an outsider. people always look at me weird, they give me dirty looks, but at the same time theyre afraid of me. all because of my family.. my dad to be specific. since before i was born, my dad has been a part of this mafia gang thingy where drugs, guns, killing, and all of that stuff was involved. so growing up i was taught most of those things. id say im pretty good at fighting, and using guns. my mom on the other hand died when i was 10, she was killed by some guy that my dad was having problems with.. ive never met someone who can relate to me whatsover, except for park sunghoon.

sunghoon goes to the same school as me and grew up exactly like i did, and when i say exactly i mean EXACTLY. his dad is a part of a mafia gang too, so sunghoon grew up involved with that as well just like i did, and guess what? his mom got killed by a guy his dad was having problems with as well. if you put two and two together.. my dad killed sunghoons mom so sunghoon`s dad killed my mom, which is one of the reasons why sunghoon and i grew up hating each other.

my dad told me that him and mr. park used to be a part of the same gang, they were actually really close friends until something happened between the two of them that ruined their friendship and caused them to turn on each other. basically, my dad and mr. park were planning a huge drug deal, but for some reason mr. park tipped off the cops to make sure all the money made off the drug deal would be his, so when my dad got arrested for it he spent 10 years in prison. and when he got out he killed sunghoons mom as revenge, but when mr. park killed my mom for revenge because of his wife`s death, it made things worse between the two.

i was sat in the backseat of the fancy car i was driven to school with everyday by my dads personal driver, min. i was not allowed to walk to school and especially not alone. my dad told me there are people who know about me and that since im his daughter they kinda want me dead.. which is understandable? i guess, considering the kind of shit my dad does to these people. "were here, miss y/l/n" my driver says, parked right in front of my school. "thank you-" i was two seconds away from getting out of the car before i was stopped by my drivers very concerned voice. "wait, mr. park is right behind us. would you like to wait?" i rolled my eyes at his words, not giving a care in the world about park fucking sunghoon. "i`m okay. thank you, min"

the second i made my way out of the car i was met with sunghoons tall figure stood not too far behind me. he threw a glare at me that i quickly returned which he rolled his eyes at. as we both started walking to the entryway of our school, we were pretty much walking next to each other, obviously, since we were going the same way. "thought the teacher told you to cover up?" he suddenly says, referring to my choice of clothing, his eyes looking straight ahead as hes avoiding any and all eye contact with me.

"you were the one who went complaining to our teacher about it, acting like what i was wearing wasn’t making your dick hard" he only chuckled at my words. once we reached the entryway, he opened the door and stood to the side. he grinned, "ladies first" he said. i gave him a fake smile and walked through the open door. right as he was about to walk in from behind me, i slammed the door shut in his face and locked it so he couldn`t get in no matter what. i watched him banging on the door and yelling at me to open it. "oppa! i think the back door is open" i said loud enough for him to hear, knowing its a good 5 minute walk to get there. i laughed at how furious he was before making my way to class.

i guess you could say me and sunghoon act childish with each other sometimes. we argue a lot over dumb, unnecessary and small shit for no reason. we could choose to ignore each other but since i have it out for him and he has it out for me, its hard not to say anything every time we come across each other. we`re not exactly like our dads. we dont pull a gun on each other every time we cross paths, but do not get me wrong. there are times when our silly little arguments have evolved and turned into something much bigger causing a physical fight ending in blood and injuries. but its always been between just the two of us, we`ve never involved our dads or anything because we seem to just handle it on our own.

"i hope everyone here studied for their exams, you had all week and i will be disappointed in you if you fail" our teacher was walking around and placing the exam papers on each one of our desks. suddenly, at the sound of the door being slammed open, everyone turned their heads just to see sunghoon standing by the door looking pissed. "mr. park! it is one thing to come late to my class to take your exam, but its another thing to slam my door open and interrupt me" watching our teacher yell at sunghoon really made my day, especially the embarassed look on his face which made me smile to myself.

"im sorry, miss. i had to come in through the back door since-" before he could rat me out, he got cut off by our teacher who decided to yell at him once again. "i don`t want to hear it mr. park. take your seat and be quiet" sunghoon glared at me silently before he made his way to his desk which just happened to be right next to mine. i was expecting him to start throwing childish insults at me, but to my surprise he looked down at the piece of paper in front of him in complete silence. odd, but i couldnt be bothered to start anything during our exams.

"you guys have 1 hour to finish your exams starting from now" the room went completely quiet once everyone turned their heads down and started writing down on the piece of paper. i was focused on my exam until i felt something press down on my foot. confused, i look underneath my desk to see that its someone whos pressing down on my foot with their own. of course when i look up to see who it is, its sunghoon. hes not looking at me as his eyes are stuck to the paper in front of him, instead he uses his pen to point at a tiny note right next to his paper. i can see that theres something written on it, but since i couldnt make it out i decided to lean over his table a bit. squinting my eyes, i read the words "shouldn`t have locked me out pretty thing" pretty thing? really? is he referring to me as a thing? what an ass..

"miss. ___ is looking at my papers" wait, what?! i look up at sunghoon whos smirking at me, ew.. before turning to our teacher who looks like shes actually about to kill me.

"miss, i wasn’t-"

"i dont want to hear it! detention now, miss y/l/n"

fucking unbelievable. if im gonna miss my exam and end up in detention, you sure as hell know sunghoon will too. i tried not to lose my shit, grabbing my backpack before "accidentally" tripping over sunghoons desk which kinda revealed a bit of my behind to everyone in class. "miss! sunghoon just tripped me on purpose.." i said, acting all shy and embarrassed about how my skirt flipped over. "shes fucking lying!" sunghoon stood up from his desk and i could tell he was gonna lash out on me.

"am not! you tripped me over that desk on purpose you fucking pervert-"

"watch your mouth you lying piece of shit!"

while me and sunghoon were lashing out on each other, we didn`t notice how our teacher was red in the face like she was about to explode out of anger. "that`s enough! you guys are grown enough to know not to be using that sort of language, nor to be arguing like little kids! you should know to act better. detention for the both of you right now!" she yelled in our faces while everyone else were sat staring at us awkwardly.

both me and sunghoon were now sat in detention. we also just happened to be the only ones here, along with a teacher tho.. sunghoon was sat on the other side of the classroom as he wished to not be near me at all, which i’m glad for. i was scrolling through my phone when the teacher suddenly got up from the chair he was sat on. “alright. i’ve got a wife and kids to get home to, so you two better behave on your own until school is finished” and then he left just like that, leaving me and sunghoon all alone. "cant believe i`m missing my exam because of you.." i spat, breaking the silence. "maybe if you hadn`t locked me out i wouldn`t have done what i did. besides, the stunt you pulled really just proves my point. you really are a slut-" and this is usually how our fights start.

gripping the book in my hands that was on my desk, i quickly threw it in sunghoons direction and his instincts kicked in instantly. he dodged the book which flew right past his head, hitting the wall with a harsh thud that left a noticeable mark. "nice try princess" he pushed his desk to the side and began walking towards me as he was visibly angry. i ducked as fast as i could when he swung his fist at me. i felt a rush of air across my face that his fist had missed. "a man hitting a woman? that`s not very man-like of you" i twisted my body as i attempted to throw a kick at his knee, but sunghoon was quick to jump back which resulted in my foot connecting with the wall instead. "fuck!"

"dont hurt yourself now" sunghoon smirked before his next punch successfully caught me across my cheek, causing a sharp pain which made me stumble backwards. suck it up.. i launched myself forward and managed to tackle him down. with sunghoon on the ground, i was now straddling him with my fists positioned in the air right above his face. we were both breathing heavily as sunghoon struggled to get away from underneath me. "are you getting weaker, park sunghoon?" i asked, lowering my fists before getting back up on my feet. "youre saying that as if you didnt take the most damage" he panted, sitting himself up against the wall. "yet i`m not the one whos out of breath" i grabbed my backpack and made my way out of the classroom as i couldn`t be bothered to deal with his bullshit anymore, and i could feel his eyes on me as i walked out.

"dad! im home" i walked into the kitchen with no sight of my dad. i jumped when i saw my dads personal driver sat at the kitchen table. "min? you scared me. wheres dad?" i sat down next to him, placing my backpack on the floor. "your dad is currently in a meeting, hell be back soon. how did your exam go?" i watched him eat his food as i had no idea what to say to that. "couldnt have gone better.." i lied. he hummed, "if youre wondering, then no, i didn`t tell your dad i saw you and mr. park having a conversation on your way inside" i furrowed my eyebrows at him. why did he think he had to keep something like that away from my dad? we weren`t exactly saying positive things to each other, unless he thinks..

"ew, no! its most definitely not like that. we do talk sometimes, but its just shit talking about each other to each others faces" i said, not missing the way he threw me a look that screamed "i don`t believe you". i rolled my eyes playfully,

"i do not like sunghoon whatsoever-"

"i`d hope so"

i heard a voice say. turning around, i saw my dad walking into the kitchen with a lot of papers in his hands. "min, these are for you" he handed him a few of the papers which min accepted and thanked him for before he got up from his chair. i watched my dad sit down on the chair min was just sat on, "what did i hear you talking about just now?" he questioned, placing the rest of the papers on the table in front of him as he started going through them one by one.

"my exam" i said, which wasn`t completeley a lie. he turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows before looking back at his papers. "i was meaning to talk to you about sunghoon" what? why sunghoon out of all people? "you were..?" i asked, feeling myself getting a little nervous. "you know, sunghoon is no different from his father. he`s just as bad as him" i hummed as i was trying not to show how desperate i was for him to get to the point. "i was originally planning on doing this myself, but i figured that it would be a better for you to do it, since you "do not like sunghoon whatsoever""

"well, ur right about that. what is it that you want me to do dad?" he paused before he took a deep breath. he turned to me slightly and placed his hand on my shoulder, "sweetheart". he finally said as curiosity started taking over me. he hesitated for a second and it kinda freaked me out. was this gonna be some sort of arranged marrige? did he know about our fight today? or maybe- "i want you to kill sunghoon" what?! kill sunghoon..? i’d lie if i say i didn`t hate him, but ive never gone as far as to actually wanting to murder him.. i never have, never will, never wanted to and never planned on taking someone’s life, even if it`s someone who i despise.

“i know i’m asking for a lot-“

“asking for a lot? dad, you’re asking me to take someone’s life..”

“sweetheart, i know. but unfortunately this isn’t a choice” i watched him in horror as no words were able to leave my mouth. “you will do what i’m asking you to do. you wouldn’t want to disappoint your father, right?” he stood up from his chair, looking down on me demanding that i give him an answer. “y-yes dad..” i managed to get out, not bothering to look at him. “very well then” his footsteps were heavy as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts. i can’t kill sunghoon.. but i have to? no. i don’t have to, i think? it’s what my dad wants me to do, does that mean i should? murder is wrong, but sunghoon is a bad person. does sunghoon deserve to die? shit..

“you want me to kill ___?” sunghoon’s dad had delivered the exact same news to his son. “that’s right. she’s no different from her father” sunghoon knew that what his father was asking him for was wrong. he couldn’t bring himself to kill ___, even tho he hated her he knew that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“dad.. i don’t know if i can-“

“don’t start with me son. when i tell you to do something, you do it. don’t act like it’ll be hard, she’s a woman after all”

a woman who could easily beat my ass.. sunghoon thought to himself. “yes father” he said. “very well then” he watched his father walk out of the room, what was he gonna do now? should he kill her just because his father told him to do so? the guilt would be with him for the rest of his life if he did. but he wouldn’t want his dad to be disappointed in him, right?

“we’re here, miss y/l/n” min said, parked in front of my school. “thank you..” i made my way out of the car and prayed to god that i wouldn’t bump into sunghoon. a whole day had gone by and i still needed to process everything. i looked around as i made my way to the entryway with no sign of sunghoon, and i was relieved when i finally reached the door. but before i could open it myself, someone had opened it from the inside. looking up, my heart dropped at the sight of sunghoon stood in front of me. i swallowed nervously as we were both stood staring at each other in complete silence.

i tried to move past him, and so did he which caused our bodies to push up against each other. “sorry..” sorry? why the fuck did i apologize? “it’s alright..” he mumbled, moving to the side so i could walk past him. not wanting to make things even more awkward, i quickly walked past him and hurried my way over to class. wait, but.. why was sunghoon acting weird as well? maybe something happened and he was dealing with a personal matter.. don’t know, don’t care. he’ll be dead soon anyway.

i’m getting ready to start working out in what my dad calls "the den" its basically this underground gym/boxing place where my dad trains along with his men, but i usually show up after they’ve all left since i like being on my own. i had put on some black shorts and a white top that hung off my shoulder on one side. i reached for a hair tie and gathered all of my hair, putting it up in a high ponytail while some strands in the front were left loose. i then carefully started wrapping my hands in hand wraps and flexing my fingers afterwards. turning to the punching bag, i was getting ready to start my usual everyday practising, but that was until i heard footsteps coming from behind me. it was weird since i thought everyone had left, but when i turned around i was at a loss of words.

"how’d you get in here..?" my voice shook, watching sunghoons tall figure leaning against the door to the entryway. "wasn’t that hard. my men took out yours in the front pretty easily" he smirked at me, fidgeting with the gun in his hands. "you can’t bring a gun to a fist fight. thats why my men lost" one by one, i watched his men gather around him; all carrying guns. "this can go two ways" he said as he started walking towards me slowly "either it’ll just be the two of us and i’ll make it quick and painless, or ill have to bring my men on it and i guarantee that it’s gonna hurt" he was stood right in front of me while looking down on me with his head tilted slightly.

was sunghoon planning on killing me too? was he doing this because he somehow found out that i was planning on killing him first? there wasn’t enough time for me to think. right now i had to focus on just one thing, and that was to live. "did your men forget to take out the ones in the back too?" i watched the smirk on his lips disappear as my men started to gather around me as they had come in through the back. all though, they weren`t armed with guns like sunghoons men were which made me really nervous. sunghoon chuckled and began walking backwards until he was stood behind his men. i pulled the same move, which meant that our men were now gonna fight against each other to protect me and sunghoon.

"seems like you can’t face us without your guns" one of my men said who was stood in the very front. sunghoons men laughed, "let’s be fair about it then, shall we?" the sound of guns being thrown on the floor made me feel relieved. suddenly, the den exploded into chaos as our men went at each other with fists flying and bodies colliding. the men’s shouting and grunting filled the entire room while me and sunghoon were stood on each sides of the room watching them.

one of my men collapsed on the ground, but before he could get back up two men tripped over him which added to the pile of bodies that were already sprawled out across the floor. the den was a mess of sweaty, bloody, injured men that had mostly been beaten to death by each other. it went by faster than i expected, and worse than i expected. all that remained were either dead bodies or knocked out bodies with no one left standing except for me and sunghoon.

"what’s the matter princess? is this too much for you?" the sound of sunghoon’s voice brought me back to reality. i was distracted by the violent scene that was right in front of me. i took a deep breath, "nothing is too much for me" i said with my eyes looking straight at him from across the room. sunghoon looked at the gun in his hands before he threw it on the ground. "like my men said, lets be fair about it" he said, placing his hands in his pockets. "you can use the gun you know? i dont mind, since this will be your last fight after all.." the tension between us was heated. sunghoon only laughed at me, "give it all you’ve got baby" with each slow step, he was now walking towards me. "don’t call me that" i spat.

he paused dangerously close to me, our bodies almost making contact. "come on baby, don’t say that" he brought his hand up to my face, but i was quick to slap his hand away with mine. with no warning, sunghoon`s fist landed with a severse thud against my ribs and i felt the force knock my breath out of me. i whimpered when i was sent stumbling into a nearby table, gripping the edge of the table for balance. i wasted no time and launched myself back at him with a kick that grazed his shoulder. he let out a groan, quickly grabbing my leg and twisting it viciously.

i let out a cry as i fell to the floor. when sunghoon tried to get on top of me, i managed to wrench my leg free by kicking at his chest with my other foot. as he stumbled backwards, i got back up on my feet as fast as i could. we were both breathing heavily and our bodies were hot with sweat. "shit princess. you’re getting better at this" he panted, lifting his fists into the air. "thank you. it means a lot coming from you, oppa" i rushed forward, this time going low so i could tackle him. the second we both crashed onto the cold floor we started wrestled fiercly. our bodies were rolling on the floor as we tried to overpower each other.

suddenly, his hands found my neck. i felt his fingers squeezing as he pressed down. my eyes widened in panic and my hands quickly went flying to his wrists; clawing at them, desperate for air. i dug my nails into his skin until it started drawing blood. he hissed in pain and ended up loosening his grip just enough for me to shove him off. i started coughing and gasping for air before kicking him hard in his chest which caused him to also gasp for air when he felt himself not being able to breathe properly.

i charged at him once again, this time aiming my elbow at his face. he barley was able to block it with his forearm before i grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head backwards. "fuck!" he groaned, retaliating by grabbing my own hair and pulling it so hard that tears started forming in my eyes. "a-ah!" i let out a shriek. we were both struggling while using the grip on each others hair to cause each other pain. with a sudden move, sunghoon yanked my head to the side and slammed my head into the wall causing my grip on his hair to loosen. my chest was rising and falling, my body sprawled out on the floor with my hair being a tangled mess. my head was pounding horribly and i couldnt bare the pain i was feeling in my body.

sunghoon took the chance and got on top of me. he leaned down with his face so close to mine that the tip of our noses were touching. i felt his heavy breath against my lips before slightly flinching at the feeling of metal against my temple. his eyes looked into mine, a smirk forming on his lips. "this is the end for you baby" he mumbled before he cocked the gun. sunghoon raised his eyebrows when i sniffled. our eyes were locked in an intense gaze. he clenched his jaw slightly, the gun in his hand shaking when he tried pressing it further into my temple. i stood still, watching every move that he was making.

"kiss me goodbye?" i said, almost sounding like a whisper. he froze like he couldnt believe what had just come out of my mouth. his grip on the gun loosened, just for a second as if he was questioning whether to kill me or not. he stared at me with his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unsure if i was joking or not. with the way i was looking into his eyes he could tell i was being serious when a tear rolled down my cheek. i leaned forward, my bloodied lips parting before they touched his. the kiss was soft as our lips moved together. i felt him deepening the kiss, parting his mouth as well. and with his lips still on mine, he pulled the trigger.

♡︎♡︎♡︎

i feel horrible i’m so sorry.. should i make it into a series orrr??

#enha x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enha #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon #sunghoon

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ornii · 29 days ago

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Oh, The Misery: Arcane, Part 5 : “You’re Trouble.. My kind of Trouble.”

(Y/n) slowly walked down the Walkway of the prisons. the voice of Caitlyn growing more frustrated was heard.

“I took a look at your file. There's no record of you or your crimes. What are you here for?” She asked the woman.

“My sunny personality.” Her response, sarcastic as usual. Caitlyn still attempted to get information. “You attacked an inmate. Why?”

“Why not?” Vi smugly replied.

“He was a witness in an ongoing investigation.” Cat frowned.

“Hmm, bummer…”

“This was a waste of time.” Caitly frowns, until a figure walks up next to her, (Y/n). He and Vi spot each other and its silence, “..Vi?” He asked, she stepped back from the bars.

“Holy shit..” she whispered, not able to proceed what’s happening. (Y/n) gripped the bars, removing his hood. “Vi! You’re okay, you’re okay..” his whispered, trying not to cry. He felt a palm reach out and caress his hand. It was Vi, they locked eyes and she tried to speak to him. “Hey, look at me, it’s okay.. it’s okay.” She reassured him, this is the first time in a long time she’s felt, weak. Caitlyn watched, not sure how to feel. It wasn’t until Vi caught Caitlyn’s staring and walled back up.

“So, this your new friend?” She asked, (Y/n) looked at Cait. “Something like that, she wants Silco on a platter, so do I, and so do you… see what I’m getting at?” He says, Vi looked down for a moment but then back up to them.

“You trust her?” Vi whispered, (Y/n) looked at Cait and back to Vi. He nodded. “She won’t survive the undercity..” (Y/n) adds in, Vi reluctantly agrees.

Cait and (Y/n) return to the front desk, they approach it and Cait speaks first.

“I've got orders from Councilor Talis, concerning Inmate 516.” She starts, the Warden looks up at this lazily.

“Not cooperative, huh?” He starts, and a metal baton is gently placed on the desk by him, “You, uh, you want us to have.. a chat with her?” He said, Caitlyn was shocked and (Y/n), if looks could kill the Warden would have his eyeballs torn out.

“No.” Cait said with disgust, the Warden casually placed the bat back down,”Oh.” He muttered. Caitlyn attempted to ignore the absurdity and violation of human rights she just heard.

“It's for her release.” Cait explained, and the Warden read the letter.

“Huh. Since when's he a Councilor?” He asked, “Since …today.” She responded. The Warden shrugged and began the process, (Y/n), still reeling, grinded his teeth and spoke up.

“How many ..”chats” have you had with her?” He said, mostly trying not to bite his head off. The warden leaned in, “You know, I never even thought to count.” He replies, (Y/n) took one step forward, until Cait quickly stepped in front of him. “We thank you for your cooperation.” She said, she turned around to face him and saw he was going to blow the operation. (Y/n) stepped back, reluctantly folding his arms.

Vi is thankfully released and now, they can begin their operation. The sound of heavy boots echoes through the dim hallway as Caitlyn unlocks Vi’s cell. The metal door groans open, revealing Vi’s steely gaze and tense posture. She doesn’t even glance at Caitlyn, her focus locking on (Y/n), who stands silently behind the enforcer.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes meeting Vi’s. He looks older, his features hardened by time, but beneath it, she recognizes the boy she once knew. Before he can say a word, Vi storms forward, her expression unreadable.

“You,” she growls, her voice low and dangerous.

(Y/n) barely has time to process her approach before Vi slams her hand against the wall, backing him against the cold stone wall with enough force to rattle it. She took a dominating stance and The impact reverberates through the air, startling Caitlyn, who takes a cautious step forward but stops when she sees Vi’s trembling hands.

(Y/n) blinks, caught off guard but calm. “Hey, Vi—”

“Shut up,” Vi snaps, pinning him in place with an arm braced against the wall beside his head. Her other hand grips his collar, tightening as her knuckles turn white.

“You didn’t even try to find me,” she hisses. “You just—what? Moved on? Left me to rot in here?” Her voice grew with rage, maybe grief. He doesn’t fight back, his voice was gentle. “Vi, I didn’t—” he tried to speak reason but she cut him off

“Don’t you dare,” she interrupts, her voice breaking. She leans in closer, her face inches from his. “You were supposed to have my back. You were supposed to be there for me, and you weren’t.”

For a moment, it seems like she’ll him him, but instead, Vi’s arm buckles. Her head drops against his shoulder, and her grip loosens. A heavy silence settles between them.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispers, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. “I thought I lost you too.” He wanted to hug her, but the tension was so, thick.

Without warning, Vi’s arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s rough and ungraceful, he hesitates for a split second before hugging her back just as fiercely, his hands clutching her shoulders as though afraid she’ll disappear again.

Caitlyn watches from the side, a bit awkwardly as she didn’t expect some romantic reunion. She clears her throat. But Vi doesn’t move.

“Hey.. Vi—“

“She doesn’t get to rush this.” She said from her muffled voice. They composed themselves and make their way out of this hellhole.

(Y/n) and Vi stood together near the cliff leading to the Underground. Caitlyn was using a map.

“I heard the bathysphere has a nice view. That could be a good way to get a lay of the land.” She said, (Y/n) shrugged, “Not a bad idea but—“

“Too risky.” Vi said, and leapt down, Caitlyn watched and rushed to the edge, (Y/n) wasn’t worried and watched. Vi disappeared over the edge, her boots landing with a clang as she latched onto a ledge below. With fluid movements, she began her descent, hopping between pipes, railings, and jutting beams.

(Y/n) follows as He leapt over the edge, grabbing onto a vertical metal pipe and sliding down it with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. The friction hissed beneath his metal hand and the pipe as he shifted his weight, letting go just in time to land on a lower beam. From there, he swung onto a rusted staircase and jumped off before it creaked ominously.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, lingered at the top, her hands gripping the railing. She watched them move with an agility she couldn’t hope to match. Swallowing her pride, she climbed over the edge and started to descend more cautiously, her boots skidding on the slick surfaces.

“You’re doing great, Cait!” (Y/n) called, glancing up as he leapt to another platform.

“I wasn’t asking for commentary!” she snapped, her knuckles white as she gripped a narrow ledge

She hesitated, the drop below looking far less inviting now that she was partway down. One wrong move, and it was a long, painful way to the bottom. Caitlyn shifted her weight to jump to the next ledge but miscalculated. Her foot slipped, and her breath caught in her throat as gravity took hold. Before Caitlyn could fall (Y/n) sprang into action, he rushed forward and cocked his metal arm back, he threw a punch downward that rocketed him upward, using the momentum and to Caitlyn. His arm wrapped around her waist as he caught her, he reached out with his metal and it gripped the wall and he slowly dragged him and Caitlyn down, his boots planting firmly on a horizontal beam.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice steady despite the exertion.

Caitlyn clutched his chest, her heart racing. “I—I’m fine,” she stammered, trying to regain her composure. “You sure you wanna follow us this way?” He asked with a slight grin, She huffed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

“Sure.” He smirks and they land on the ground, he lets go and she dusts herself off.

“Welcome to the Lanes.” He shrugged as Vi walked off.

“My little sister could do that when she was seven. All us fissure folk can. Don't you want to blend in?” She stepped off, and (Y/n) noticed her, new jacket. “Hm.. nice jacket.” He said, Vi gave him a glance and they all followed, where? Jerichos!

Vi was scarfing down whatever food Jericho was serving, Cait kept her head down and covered her enforcer uniform, (Y/n) wasn’t interested in whatever she was eating.

“Oh, Jericho! Have I missed these.” She said, her glance turns to (Y/n). She offers a, bit?

“No. Thank you.” He replies, she shrugged, “You're missing out.” She chuckled.

“Are you going to question him?” Cait asked them.

“About what? The meat?” Vi asked, (Y/n) looked at Jericho who chops the unsavory food with a rusty and probably bacteria filled knife.

“Ugh, Definitely not above board.” (Y/n) scoffed, Cait leaned in.

“Silco. His connections? Isn't that why we're here?” (Y/n) attempted to speak but Vi decided to, which lead to nothing but bickering.

“We're here because I'm hungry. Do you know what prison food is like? No, of course, you don't.” Vi started

“Unbelievable. I didn't break you out of jail to eat... slop. I knew this was a terrible idea. You don't actually know anything, do you?” Caitlyn scolded Vi, (Y/n) gently tapped the table and Jericho slipped him a note, he nodded and they turn to Caitlyn.

“Little word of advice, if you’re looking for someone dangerous and with connections, don’t ask every person out loud about them, you’ll wind up in a ditch like that.” (Y/n) and vi leave, and Caitlyn feeling a bit dumbfounded follows. They head along an overpass that has a perfect view of the Last Drop, Vi and (Y/n) watch it, silent. In a sense, mourning.

“Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement.” Cait said, Vi scoffed and stormed off.

“You don't know anything.” She sounded hurt, Cait turned to (Y/n). “Don’t take it to heart..” he said a bit sad, and walked past her.

“So, what was the message this Jericho gave you?” Cait asked. “A place that isn’t under Silco’s thumb, a place we can get info.” He explained and they stopped at a less than, reputable company.

“The one place all the secrets are spilled.” Vi said, they open the door and enter a risqué establishment full of, very cozy parties, giggles and erotic laughter fills the room, Cait was a bit, perplexed by all of this. They even walk past a few in suits that aren’t particularly child friendly.

“How exactly do you propose we go about this?” Cait asked, (Y/n) smirked, and turned to the two women.

“Simple, Let 'em think you work here.” (Y/n) explained. “Excuse me? I will not.” Cait had much more self respect than that. (Y/n) sighed, Vi decided to add it in.

“You know what your problem is?” Vi starts,

“Please. Tell me.” Cait retorts.

“You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you have to let them think you have what they want.” Vi explained.

“And what do I have?” Cait reluctantly asked, the two Zaunites crept up, somewhat forcing her against the wall.

“You're hot, cupcake.” They say at the same time, Cait was a blushing mess, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“But.. you know what they say Vi, two is better than one.” He winks at her, Vi’s smirk slowly faded as he then crept up on her.

“You got this tough, strong.. beautiful build, nice eyes, and that face tat? She’d hot, you’re gorgeous.” He smirked, “Absolutely not—“ Vi started, but (Y/n) had already found a girl for them. He gingerly pulled her arm. “Hey there.” He whispered, the masked girl gasped.

“I'm Pim. What's your name?” That’s unimportant. But this is Matilda and.. Rose~” But you can call them whatever you want.” He turned to Vi and Cait, and Cait decided to go with the plan.

“Ah, yes. Matilda. My parents named me Matilda. After my great-grandmother Matilda, the, uh—“ (Y/n) walked off, his allusive eyes trailing all along different rooms, as music begin to interlay into his ears. Sevika, was coincidentally at this establishment, gambling in the back of the place.

 “I wake up to the sounds Of the silence that arouse~”

 “From my mind to run around, Put my ear up to the ground”

 “I'm searching to behold The stories that I told”

 “My back is to the world That was smiling when I turned”

 …Tell you you're the greatest…

But once you turn they hate uuuuus..

Oh, the misery~

 Everybody wants to be my enemy!~

Spare the sympathy!

 Everybody wants to be my enemy!

 Look out for yourself

 My enemy.. y..y…y…

 Look out for yourself

 But I'm ready

 Your words up on the wall As you'rе prayin' for my fall

 And the laughter in thе halls And the names that I've been called

 I stuck it in my mind And I'm waiting for the time

 When I show you what it's like To be worse than am I!!

“Tell you, you’re the greatest…

“But once you turn, they hate us!”

BAM!

(Y/n)’s boot found its way right to Sevika’s jaw, she fell and the other gamblers ran off, spitting up blood she looked at the man approaching. “V…Vander?” She said, (Y/n) leaned in, and grabbed her by the shirt and lifted her to her feet, slamming her hard into the brick wall.

“You fucking traitor….” He gippee her throat with his biotic arm was trying to choke the life out of Sevika.

“Vander had his chance.” She responded, before chin checking him with an uppercut, (Y/n) stumbled back, and Sevika revealed her own biotic arm, (Y/n) shook his head and took off his coat, showing off the original.

“Poser.” He said with a deep growl.

With a roar, Sevika lunged forward, her massive arm swinging in a wide arc. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow as her fist crashed into the brick wall, sending chunks of debris flying. With her arm jabbed in the wall had kicked her hind leg and she went down to one knee and caught a mean right to the mouth.

Sevika snarled and swung her free hand at his head, but (Y/n) ducked, slipping behind her and locking his arms around her waist. With a grunt of effort, he lifted her off the ground and slammed her into the pavement with a thunderous suplex.

The impact rattled the alley, and Sevika groaned, but she was far from finished. She rolled to her feet with surprising agility for her size and charged again, aiming a wild haymaker at (Y/n)’s head.

He raised his metal arm to block, the two mechanical forces colliding with a deafening clang. The shockwave vibrated through his bones, but he held firm, twisting her arm and stepping into her space.

He hooked his leg behind hers and shoved forward, sending her sprawling onto her back. Before she could rise, he dropped onto her, grappling for control of her mechanical arm. She roared and bucked beneath him, her sheer power nearly dislodging him, but he held on, locking her arm in a firm grip.

“Get OFF me!” Sevika bellowed, her metal arm sparking as she thrashed.

“Tell me what I want to know! Now!” He roared. Sevika growled and rolled, using her weight to throw him off. (Y/n) hit the ground hard, but he recovered quickly, rolling to his feet just as Sevika charged again.

This time, she feinted high and struck low, her mechanical arm sweeping at his legs. He jumped, narrowly avoiding the blow, and landed behind her. Just as Sevika turned around he delivered a staggering shoulder check. The impact was like a missile hitting her chest, the force of the slam cracking the brickwork. Sevika coughed, momentarily winded, before she can recover, a quickly combo catches her off guard. (Y/n) starts delivering furious combinations of lefts and rights. (Y/n) couldn’t understand why but the only word in his vocabulary at the moment was “MINK!” Sevika was able to put her guard up, but she retaliated with a sharp elbow to his ribs, forcing him to step back her.

She swung again, and this time, her fist connected with his side, sending him skidding across the alley. He groaned, clutching his ribs as he pushed himself up.

“Damn.. this is tough” he muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

Sevika rushed him again, but (Y/n) was ready. He ducked under her swing, grabbed her by the waist, release suplexed backward into a stack of crates. The wood splintered under the force of their impact, he capitalized on her momentary disorientation. He rushed over, Yanking Sevika into his grasp and threw hee again with a reverse belly to belly supplex, Sevika slammed against the ground hard, (Y/n) had enough strength for another slam, before Sevika could figure out what country she’s in, he grabbed her arm pulled her in and twisted his body to deliver a judo slam into another crate. He picked up Sevika and pinned her against the wall. He raised his mechanical fist. “You know what this is? This is the combination of both of our works, it builds up energy into a single explosive wave, you know what I call it?” He cocks back his fist

“The powder Keg” a single punch echoed, the impact sent Sevika though the brinks and into the street. The alley fell silent except for the sound of Sevika’s labored breathing. She groaned, her mechanical arm twitching as the power core flickered.

(Y/n) went full Mount and gripped her shirt.

“Where's Powder? Where's he keeping her?”

“Keeping her? You mean Jinx? She works for him.” Sevika chuckled, (Y/n) cocked his fist back but gets her hands stabbed into his side for his hard work, the metal fingers tear though his flesh as he gasped for hair, he fell back, the potential cracked ribs mixed with the blood loss is causing a lot of issues, (Y/n) rolls on his front and tries to stand up. Sevika laughed as she sat up and approached him, she delivered a hard kick to his wounded side and he rolls on his back in pain. Sevika grinned, she raised her foot to stomp him out.

“I’ll send you straight to your dad.” She smirked, and a bullet flies and hits her arm, she stumbled back. Footsteps echo and Vi quickly rounds the corner and eyes Sevika. She growls and took a step forward, Sevika looked up to see Cait has her scope and rifle trained on her. “Don’t gotta worry about me, you’ve got bigger issues.” Sevika crept into the dark as Vi spots (Y/n)’s labored breath, she rushed to his side as he gripped his wound.

“Why did you let her go?” He muttered, Cait disassembled her rifle.

“Do you ever say "thank you?" Cait asked, “Yeah, it was kind of dumb to fight her on your own.”

“I’ll have you know.. I was… winning” he said, Vi stood back up, “You’re looking like real winner right now.” She smirked. “So a “thank you Vi and Cait” would save you.”

(Y/n) let out a long sigh, “Thank you.. Vi and Cait.” He says, and offered his hand, Vi helps him up and using her shoulder to prop himself up. “That’s what you get for trying to pimp us out” she smirked.

“You're an all-right shot Kiramman..” he chuckled, and immediately wheezed in pain as he’s taken away.

“I'm an excellent shot.” She said gaining some confidence.

I still don’t know how to make a tag list so if someone could explain that to me I’d appreciate it, thank you.

Here’s the Start of a taglist? I guess? Idk: @dallaski

#male reader #netflix #caitlyn arcane #jinx arcane #arcane x male reader #arcane x reader #arcane #vi x caitlyn x reader #vi x male reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #caitlyn league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #Ornii

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sstan-hoe · 10 months ago

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𝑷𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒛𝒊

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — actor!aemond targaryen × fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — life with aemond is always risky...but not just because of his status in society. No, more because he likes doing risky activities...

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — smut, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, getting caught, public sex

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — well, what more can I say besides the fact, that the new trailers awaked something in me? Team black forever, I'll just take aemond as a prisoner

A happy sigh left your mouth as you leaned your back against Aemond while his fingertips graced along your arms.

He had found a cinema with the opportunity to watch a movie while laying comfortably in your seat and god was it amazing.

And another plus point, the cinema was rather outside the city and as a result not as crowded, meaning no paparazzi or fans were around.

You and Aemond were in the last row, giving your man enough privacy to trail his hand from your arm down to your sweats. “Aemond!” You whisper-shouted trying to slap his hand away but instead he gripped your wrist with his free hand, caging you in between his arms.

“Come on love, live a little…” He chuckled, his lips lightly gazing your cheek.

You rolled your eyes at his words, Aemond lived for those risky sex moments. While you did enjoy them, you often come too close to getting caught.

“Aemond, we almost got caught last time!” You complained as his finger slipped into your panties, and that gods forsaken pussy of your betrayed you once again by getting wet just from his voice.

“Quite a tone you have there...you are really serious huh?” He asked with amusement dripping from his voice.

“You’re soaked for me, my little whore is turned on by getting caught,” Aemond drags his fingers through your folds, rubbing your clit gently. A whimper left your lips as he put pressure into his movements.

Suddenly a white light filled the cinema and it surly wasn’t the movie.

Aemond looked around, his eye scanned his right side and locked with the ones of a paparazzi. The actors face was filled with rage, he pulled his hand away from you and gently pushed you to the side.

“What the actual fuck man? How much of a perv do you have to be, taking a photo of my girl and I? You better get your ass out of here before you don't feel your face anymore, sick fuck!” He yelled at the paparazzi who scrambled out of the theatre.

“Come on, we’re leaving and tomorrow we will go to the police, and I will call my agent.” Aemond promised you softly, taking your hand to help you stand up.

Tears threatened to leave your eyes as you walked out of the cinema. A crowd of paparazzi were waiting outside, all of them making photos of Aemond and you. “Shut those fucking cameras off!” the blonde snapped at one of them who held the camera close to your face.

You could hear them ask questions, but you didn’t know what they said, too focused on getting out of there.

When you were finally inside the car you took a deep breath, though your exhaling was shaky. Aemind grabbed your hand giving it a gently squeeze before starting the engine, “we will be home any second love, I promise,” he whispered while stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

You nodded at him to let him know that you were listening. He always wanted to here you say that you were with him in situations like this, however at the moment was all you could offer him.

The car came to a stop in front of your apartment, Aemond walked over to your side and opened the door for you helping you out of the car. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, how does that sound?”

His thumb graced over your cheekbone as he smiled at you. You didn’t answer his question, instead you slowly realized what happened. “They saw us…that man took a photo of us, while you had you hand in my pants…oh god they caught us! What are we going to do?”

“Tomorrow I will go to the police, make an indication, call my agent and we will sue them yeah?”

“But what if they use it against us? I don’t believe it's allowed to do that,” your eyes were filled with fright as your mind imagined all the possibilities, on how this could be used against you.

“Maybe, but what that man did was far worse than our little adventure and even if they use it against us do you know how many people are on our side? Aegon, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Haelena and those were only a few!” He tried to reassure. You wanted to believe him so bad but a voice in your head told you the oppisite.

“And they won’t think I’m a…slut?” “Oh, god my love no! You are not a slut, it was my fault we got caught, okay? I made you do this, it's all my fault.”

His large rough, but gentle hands cupped your cheeks as the tears you tried to hold back streamed down your face. Aemond lead you to the couch and brought a tissue up to your cheeks, drying your tears.

“It's you and me against the world, yeah? We did that and it was okay, you are not a slut, and that man is a sick perv who will get at least liberty punishment and with our lawyer he will end up in prison.”

The tears slowly stopped, your vision was still blurry, but you could make out how Aemond looked at you, with so much love and care. “I love you and I’m sorry we got caught my beautiful girl,” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you replied sealing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that was filled with passion.

“I’m going to make sure that paparazzi gets what he deserves,” Aemond promised you as he carefully pulled away from your soft lips, giving you one last kiss before he stood up.

“Hot chocolate?” “With marsh-“ “Marshmallows I know,” he gave you a cute smile before vanishing in the kitchen.

He knew that by tomorrow the whole internet would be flooded with the picture, but with you by his side he knew that he could go through hell and back, with smile as if you just told him, you loved him.

#prince aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen au #actor!aemond #actor au #my one eyed prince 💫🐲#aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fanfic

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youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

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Obsessive tendencies. // Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Noble!Reader.

MDNI, DD:DNE: reader discretion is advised.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to prevent seeing dark content posted from me

based on this request.

WARNINGS: noncon to dubcon, kidnapping, obsession, mind break, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, rough sex(?), manhandling(?), multiple orgasms + not proofread.

WC: 2.1k

“Let me go please!” you cry, banging on the tightly shut and locked door, knowing damn well aemond can hear you from the other side. “No, I cannot, I'm sorry.” he apologises before you hear his footsteps, sounding more far away as the time passes, indicating that he had left.

You slide down the door in disbelief, hugging your knees as you wonder how you got yourself into this situation, locked in the highest tower of the keep, with metal bars on the windows to prevent you from jumping off.

Locked away in here like some kind of prisoner.

It all started when you had first met Aemond on Aegon's coronation day, a joyous day for the house of the dragon as it put the uncertainty of the realm to rest at last, wondering who would be their leader between Aegon and Rhaenyra, until Viserys changed his mind and instilled Aegon as heir, and soon passed away later.

Their family dynamic was extremely off putting, but you never cared much about it, you were only there because your house had been invited for the grand dinner after the coronation.

That's when you had met Aemond, at first you did not think much of him, but the more you heard the ladies talk about him, the more curious you got, and so you decided to approach him first.

Big mistake.

He was shy, not really talkative and so you gave up, thinking to not bother him anymore, but what you were unaware of was that he had taken a liking to you.

He tried to approach you many times after that, but your meetings were cut short and constantly interrupted, as if fate was trying to warn you to get away from him.

But like a moth is attracted to a flame, you were pulled towards him, recognizing the efforts that he was trying to talk to you, you started to converse with him more often.

You should not have done that.

You remember announcing that you had to leave soon, as your family's stay had already extended due to political matters, and that was the first time you saw such a dark expression on his face.

You decided to ignore it.

But look where that bought you now.

Locked in a tower, by him.

You sniffed as the tears streamed down your face, dripping down to your neck and you sighed, got up and went over to the bed before resting on it, preferring to cry on a soft silk sheeted bed rather than a hard floor.

You don't know how long it had been since he was gone, but you were woken up by the sound of the door unlocking, and you sat up straight, and there he stood, hands behind his back and a leg extended slightly, his eye on the table, and you turned your gaze to it. He had bought you food.

“Let me go.” you tell him, glaring up at him, but he just sighs and comes near you, you move backwards on the bed and he stops, looking down.

“I apologise, my lady. I know this isn't an ideal situation.” he begins and you scoff, “ideal situation? This is terrifying! Why are you doing this my prince?!” you shout at him, anger pouring out of you.

“I love you.” he suddenly says.

“Wh-what.” you're baffled, not expecting him to say that.

“My lady, I love you, I really do, to the point I had to resort to this, I cannot let you leave me. I apologise.” he speaks and silence falls between you two.

“If you truly love me, please let me go.” you tell him, you notice how his jaw slightly twitches, before he licks his lips to hydrate them, and then speaks up.

“I will do anything for you.”

“then let me-”

“Anything, except letting you go, I cannot do that, you're mine.” he inches towards and your eyes widen, “I want to marry you, and your father is refusing to accept my proposal, so i have to resort to this.” he tells you and you're confused but then he moves even closer, grabbing you by your shoulder and pushing you down on the bed.

Your eyes widen further as he gets on top of you, hands roaming down your bodice, pulling at the strings that hold it together, and that's when adrenaline courses through and you fight against him, thrashing in his grip, trying to get him off of you.

“Please let me go! I will convince my father to get us married, please, I'll pretend this never happened and we can live as you wish.” you plead, pushing his shoulders, and he stops his actions, you feel hope bloom in your chest, thinking that he'd accepted it, and will let you go, but the words that left his mouth proved otherwise.

“No, you will betray me and run away.”

The sound of the fabric of your dress ripping fills the room and you shriek, hands immediately flying towards your chest, crossing against your breasts to protect your dignity but he grabs both your hands and pins them to your sides, revealing your breasts to him.

He was too strong to fight against.

His lips find your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, and to the valley between your breasts before nipping at the flesh, and taking your nipple in his mouth, tongue twirling around the bud, causing it to perk up in arousal.

He grabs the cloth of your dress, tearing it once again, but this time exposing the entirety of you, he pulls off the destroyed clothing and throws it to the side, and that's when you realise your hands were free once again, so you push him, and this time it actually works, cause he is caught off guard and falls onto his back next to your side, you try to make a run for it, but you're too late as he grabs you by your hand and pulls down unto the bed again, and straddles your waist to prevent you from escaping.

“Don't you fucking dare.” he growls into your ear and you whimper, and he moves down, undoing his breeches pulling out his cock and pumping into full hardness. Your eyes widen when you see his length, and the realisation that he was actually going to take your maidenhead.

He lines it up against your entrance, only slightly wet due to the pleasure of him suckling on your nipple before, you push against his shoulders, shaking your head, “Please Aemond, I'll marry you, I won't betray you, let me go.” you sobbingly plead, he was almost going to shove his cock inside of you with no preparation, but knowing how large he is, you will bleed way too much, so he instead of sheathing himself inside you, he instead cups your sex before parting your folds with his fingers, rubbing small circles against your clit.

This causes slither of pleasure to creep up in your body, making you gasp when you feel him pinch those bundle of nerves, you swallow thickly when his finger dips down towards your entrance, and he slowly inserts his fingers, making you squirm in discomfort, having something inside you for the first time.

At first it was only one finger, but then as he thrusts in and out and feels you loosen up, he adds another, curling them upwards, reaching that spongy part within you, making you moan, it doesn't go unnoticed so he tries searching for it again, and when he feels it, he presses against it causing you gasp and grab his hand by the wrist, he shoots you a smirk before his fingers are plunged inside you, curled upwards so it's hitting all the right spots, making you moan loudly.

You shouldn't be enjoying this, this situation is extremely fucked up, but you can't deny the fact that he's making you feel so fucking good, his fingers are paced painfully slow, “Ae-aemond please- faster.” you beg, knowing you are near your peak, you seem to have lost your mind, begging him to go faster? Your mind feels hazy and you whine when you feel him comply with your request, going faster, and then? You are seeing stars as your peak rips through you, causing you to arch your back and moan his name loudly, hand tightly clenching around his wrist, shutting your eyes tightly.

He withdraws his hand, making you miss something inside of it already, he deems that you're prepared enough and once again aligns his cock near your entrance, you wait with your legs spread apart, bracing for the pain, and he pushes himself inside slowly.

He groans, feeling pleasure when his cock slides in, every ridge of your wall holding him tightly and perfectly, as if he was the missing puzzle you desperately needed.

You on the other hand, clench your fists, nails digging into your own hands as the pain of intrusion burns like a hot flame, and unable to take the pain longer, you let out a sob, and aemond looks at you, caressing your face, and kissing your tears away, “Shhh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're doing so good for me, just bear it a little more longer okay? I will slide in fully.” and just as he said, he slid in fully, causing you to let out a border line shriek, which he had to cover with his own hand.

He didn't move, letting you adjust, and you tried to calm your breathing, trying to relax, eyes staring up at him as he hair curtains your face, he removed his hand from your mouth and your lips trembled, gasping when he started moving slowly.

He looks down, to where your bodies are connected and moans in delight when he sees your maiden-blood coating his cock, a sick satisfaction blooming in him as he watches it, knowing that he has ruined you, and no one would want you now. This makes him frantic and his thrusts pick up speed, plunging in and out of you at such a fast pace, making your face contort in pain as you desperately try to get adjust to him while also trying to take his harsh thrusts, and soon the burning sensation of pain goes away and it turns into something more pleasurable.

“Ae-aemond, slow down please.” you gasp, unable to keep up, body jolting up and down the bed, as the breath inside you gets constantly knocked out, “Fuck- I'm sorry, I can't.” he apologizes and continues to keep the pace stable, you grip the sheets below for support, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn't work.

He leans down, kissing your lips, and then your neck and nipping at the flesh, finding the sensitive spot, making you tilt your head back and moan, your hand shoots up to his hair as he mouths your neck.

He pulls away, and focuses on his thrusts instead, rutting into you like an animal, thumb circling your clit to bring you to your peak before him, and he succeeds, because the next thing you feel is the tightened band in your stomach snapping at a high intensity, “Fuck!” you moan, head falling backwards, and you ride your orgasm out as he thrusts into you.

“God's, I am so close, going to cum inside you and seed you, you'd look so beautiful with my child in your belly—” he gasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier, “so full and round of me yeah? With my heir, and gods- when your tits will fill with milk to feed my babes, fuck, I'll have you many times, keep you full of my children.” he groans, closing his eyes, imagining you with his child, and that's when he snaps, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan.

He starts softening after a while, pulling out of you, unwrapping your legs from around his waist, as you look at him in hazy state, eyes droopy, he admires the view, your legs spread out with his seed leaking out of you, chest heaving up and down, hair messy and some of the drool escaping your mouth.

He kisses you once again, trailing it down to your stomach, and presses a firm kiss on your lower abdomen, before gently rubbing his hand against it. “I cannot wait for it to take root inside you. You'd give me as many heirs as I wish, won't you?” He asks and you don't reply, too tired to form words, eyes closing, drifting off to slumber when you're rudely awakened with a slap to your clit, making you shoot your eyes open at the pain, “Answer me.” he demands and you nod your head, “Yes my prince- as many as you want.” you reply weakly and he hums.

“Hmm, Sȳz riña.” (good girl.)

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

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Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear.

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though.

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.”

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.”

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal.

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss.

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.”

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward.

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you.

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip.

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.”

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.” His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier.

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you.

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you.

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch.

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it.

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.”

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.”

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion.

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up.

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

@mxxny-lupin @azu21things @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my wrting

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ohsohoney · 4 months ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Nine

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: It’s here! Just figured I’d get it out quick, so I spent ages just writing and then editing! Hope it’s up to par? It’s a long one, again..

Might edit this again when I'm not running on three hours sleep:) x

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

It wasn’t too long after my call with Danny ended that I stepped back through the garden door and into the kitchen, only to find Marshall already there, elbows pressed against the counter as he typed away on his phone. He looked up at the creak of the door and so I smiled in hello, tucking my own phone into my back pocket as I padded on closer, making sure to lock up behind me.

“Danny said his goodbyes and apologised again for his army mates.” I found myself saying with a slight chuckle and watched as Em turned off his phone to set it to the side, pushing up and away from the countertop.

“Was nice to meet him. You speak about him a lot.” Marshall replied with a small smile, the getsure genuine even under the bright lights the kitchen offered. “Kid’s in bed already,” He added with a slight jilt of his chin before his head turned ever so towards the hallway, “You up for another night of tv?”

Grinning, honestly unable to help the action, I widened my eyes and feigned fawning over the very idea, “God, you know how to entertain a woman. Who needs alcohol and a club full of sweaty people when you’ve got Rick Grimes and walkers waiting for you?”

Marshall rolled his eyes in retort, scoffing lightly in amusement, but I did note the uneasy look that crossed his face, even if it only lasted a split second. “Never claimed to be babysittin’ you whilst you’re here. You wanna go out, go ahead.”

It was my turn to gift him an eye roll then, the daft idiot. “And miss the chance of another popcorn fight breaking out? Yeah, I think not.” I said as I waltzed past him, heading straight for the living room we’d invaded the night previous.

I was still searching for the remote when he finally emerged in the doorway behind me, pausing there briefly. It was only once I’d finally caught sight of the stupid thing that he chose to speak up again, “I was bein’ serious, before. You don’t have to stay cooped up here with us.”

The tele had since been turned on, the screen buzzing to life before its loading page flashed up to greet us. My brow furrowed in my stance by the edge of the settee and it stayed even as I turned to spare him a glance from over my shoulder. He looked a little ominous standing there in the shadow of the doorway, the tv being the only thing to shed a small amount of warmth and light into the dark room.

“Shut up, I was just messing.” I waved off whilst flashing him a wry smile, before I turned back to the tv screen so that I could scroll my way back to the series we’d been watching the night before.

But Marshall didn’t appear to be anymore at peace after hearing the sentiment, his shoulders were tense and his forehead was suddenly littered with slight lines when he decided to bypass me and drop down onto the sofa.

I joined him a couple seconds later, throwing him a wary glance as I clicked on the third episode we’d somehow managed to get to and lowered myself down onto the cushions less than arm's length away.

The show started and for the first ten minutes we sat in a mutual silence, though I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d made a real big misstep with my earlier joke. It was just as the scene shifted again, the library moulding into the prison’s outer fields, that Marshall shifted, using the pillow between us as an excuse to shuffle into a better position, one which left him sitting a whole lot closer than he’d previously been.

My legs had come up to hide beneath me not long after I’d first sat down, so with his new position it just meant that my knees were now almost grazing his own. My eyes flickered between the barely there touch and the tv screen.

Marshall slumped. Knee pressing further into my own.

I allowed it, wondering if it was purposeful.

“Sorry.” He murmured after a static moment passed and he didn’t make the effort to move away either. I wondered if that was really what he was apologising for.

Deciding not to comment on it, I simply shifted so that my head could rest against the back cushion of the couch, leaving my shoulder and side to fall in line with his torso. I felt, more than heard, him look over at me, before his focus was back on the tv screen once more.

We sat that way for the remainder of that episode, my eyes growing heavier the further in we got. I put it down to the residual lapse in jetlag, but Marshall’s presence and his unusual knack for always being able to radiate body heat like a sodding furnace might have had something to do with it too.

I jerked slightly when I eventually felt my head fall forward, startling myself a tad, and pulled back from the way I’d been just about ready to nod right off. My temple seemed to have caught the curve of Em’s shoulder though on the way down and so I shuffled back a tad to flash him a sleepy smile full of silent apology, to which he merely shook his own head and shifted so that he could offer up his shoulder without words said or questions asked.

My throat grew a little tight at the gesture, never really having had that sort of companionship before, even in the people closest to me, and slowly allowed my chin to droop, almost cautiously as if I was preparing for him to laugh me off. But he didn’t. Simply waited me out, like a person would a stray dog when trying to lure them near.

I must’ve fallen asleep there after a while, which surprised me enough to have me blinking blearily awake again once I’d realised, because the next thing I knew the sofa had shifted and the soft light from the tele had since paused in its stuttering of scenes.

Sniffing, I attempted to bury myself further into the cushions beneath me, missing the warmth that I’d found there just moments before, but it was then that I heard a light huff of laughter, one which had me rubbing at my eyes only to cast a glance towards it.

Marshall was there, standing over me, one hand on my knee whilst he tried to shake me awake as gently as he could. My gaze caught on the small smile he wore, the same one which appeared to grow when I frowned up at him and then around the room, trying to get a sense for what had happened and where I’d fallen asleep.

A tap to my knee had me looking back at him.

“Missed two episodes.” Marshall mentioned in a low murmur, smirking at the way I wrinkled my nose in turn, “Don’t think I’m rewatchin’ them jus’ ‘cause your ass decided to fall asleep.”

I hummed, still attempting to wrap my head around the fact that I’d just been asleep and was now somewhat awake, whilst simultaneously trying to stay alert enough not to fall back into that blissful state. “Sorry.” I whispered tiredly, barely even aware of the word as it slipped past my lips.

Marshall’s mouth quirked upwards before his head was shaking again, “You’re good, was just kidding.”

I smiled at the thought of him watching the episodes for a third time, just for me, and then giggled a little.

His hand encased my knee again but squeezed gently this time, it was when I looked over at him that I realised I’d let my eyes slip closed again. “Come on, gotta get movin’.”

I dreaded the very thought of moving but knew even in my dreary state that I couldn’t stay curled up on the sofa, so I inhaled quietly and moved to nod my head, taking the hand that wasn’t holding my leg and allowing it to hoist me up.

Marshall was smooth and considerate in the way he helped guide me up, letting me lean into his side as he turned off the tv, leaving only the nearby lamp to light our way out of the living room and into the hallway. I stumbled slightly on the small step that separated the two adjacent rooms but Marshall was there again, arm wrapped tightly around my middle whilst his other hand gripped my own, to keep me steady.

I blinked a little more at the almost fall, allowing myself to pause and squeeze my eyes shut tight enough that when I opened them again the world was a little less blurred at the edges. “I’m knackered.” I ended up saying, voice carrying in a dull whisper.

Em responded with a light snort, the hand at my hip squeezing a fraction as we started up the staircase. “This gone be a usual thing with you, me carryin’ you to bed?” He wondered, though even in my sleepy state I could tell that the ask was more humorous than anything slightly related to irritation.

Still, the question reminded me of the night before when he’d also helped aid me up the stairs. The image of his smirking face flashed to the forefront of my mind at the prompt, the way he had waited for me to step beyond my bedroom door before he’d finally allowed himself to walk away. Tomorrow, he’d said whilst my fingers had toyed with the door’s handle.

“No.” I murmured then to his question, sniffing as I slumped further in his hold, wondering over the steps and why he had so many of them. “Normally I’m a night owl. Don’t sleep much.” I added in explanation, the words accompanied by another sleepy smile that had him gazing down at me.

Marshall hummed but was quiet as we moved up onto the landing, it was only when we reached my door that he shifted ever so to get it open, the handle clunking back up again in his haste to keep me upright against his side. I murmured another quiet apology.

“Stop sayin’ sorry, dummy.”

I snorted at the term, eyes slipping closed again, “Is that meant to be endearing?”

His tut echoed throughout the bedroom and it was then that I realised I was perched on the end of the king size bed. I blinked, but instead of peering around the rest of the room, my eyes caught on him and the way he was now pulling back the sheets, reshuffling the many pillows on the other end.

My lips rolled against one another before I thought to say something, “Too many.”

Marshall peered back at me from where he was stood leaning over the bed, one knee pressed into the mattress. I wondered briefly if he knew how good he looked then, before he spoke again, brow raised. “What?”

“Pillows.” I muttered, hand flapping lazily over to the mountain.

For a long second he just stayed there, eyes turning towards the top of the bed before they met mine once more. I rubbed at my face to hide an oncoming yawn. He waited another second before pillows started to fly.

Startled by the soft thuds they made when they hit the floor, I watched on as he windled the stack down to a simple two, fluffing them before his head was turning towards me once more. “Good?”

His voice was ever so soft, all kind and gentle like. It made the words I felt like saying get stuck in my throat and a light flush to paint my cheeks, I nodded.

It was then that he tilted his head in a gesture for me to move, smiling to himself as I rolled over the top of the duvet to settle on the sheeted mattress beneath. I flashed him another tired grin after settling in, wriggling beneath the sheets to get comfy and fight away the cold that had crawled in beside me.

My face seemed to crease after that and I tugged at the duvet to get the bed frame to release its bottom end. Marshall caught on quick enough and pulled it free for me whilst I shuffled out of the trousers I’d yet to take off. He blinked at the sight of the fabric which appeared a moment later, before he snorted to himself and offered to take them, stepping away to fold them up and place them down on the dresser nearby.

“All good?” He asked once again. I glanced back at him from under the cocoon I’d created and took in the softness of his smile, the way his hands were now folded politely behind his back, and how he was simply just waiting for me to answer him, as though he had all the time in the world and wasn’t fighting off sleep himself.

I nodded, my chin hidden beneath the covers but my returning smile was able to be seen in the slight curve of my cheeks. “Good.” I whispered. Then, feeling a little silly, I added, “Sorry for–”

He waved the end of my sentence off, stepping closer to the bed as he reached out, ready to turn off the bedside lamp. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Makes me feel useful.” Smirking, his fingers grasped the lamp’s cord but he didn’t move to pull it just yet.

“Still,” I pushed, eyes growing heavier once more now that I was surrounded by the weighted quilt that seemed to be hellbent on capturing all the heat that it could, “Thank you, I don’t usually..”

Marshall’s smirk dimmed ever so into something more thoughtful, “Means a lot that you trust me. Don’t stress about where you fall asleep.”

Trust. Wasn’t that a funny fucking thing.

The lamp was off and he was walking away before I could utter a reply to that, and it was only when the door creaked open a tad bit further to let him have his escape that I let the weight of his words sink in.

It was a maddening thought to realise that I did trust him. Wholeheartedly. And that was probably the strangest thing.

–

I could not for the life of me have told you where I was, let alone what the time it could have possibly been, when I roused from my coma-like state.

The first thing I noted was that the curtains had all been closed and the jumper I’d worn last night had since been tossed to the floor alongside a plethora of pillows. It was slow going, pulling myself up and into a sitting position, letting the duvet pool around my hips when I attempted to get my brain to function properly again.

It was another minute or two before I found the strength to roll over and make a grab for my phone, only to find that it had since been plugged into the outlet by the bedside table to charge. My brow pinched at the sight, not recalling having put it on charge, but still I reached out to grab it.

The light I was met with had me wincing before I managed to adjust, eyes widening slightly at the time I was shown. Almost eleven. Wow, it was honestly somewhat of an achievement for me, seeing as the bouts of insomnia I often wavered through had me falling asleep far too late and waking far too early. I figured all the flying and the hectic schedule I’d had before landing in Detroit had finally caught up to me.

My mind short circuited at the reminder. Detroit. Marshall.

“Shit.” I hissed, dropping the phone down onto the mattress as I willed myself to get out of bed.

I tried to remember what had transpired after talking to Danny, how I’d let myself be lulled by the tv and the comfort of the man sat beside me.

Dragging a hand over my face, I felt a bout of embarrassment flutter through me, feeling oddly caught out at having let someone see me so exposed. My legs dangled over the edge of the bed for a long moment before I finally found the energy to move, pulling my body over towards the bathroom and into the shower before I could regret the decision. Any of them, including both the night befores and the choice to not linger any longer in my pit.

The shower worked wonders for waking me up that little bit more, pushing the last remnants of sleep from my mind as I stood under its spray. It was then that I found myself feeling thankful again for Marshall and all his odd eccentricities, for him being the overanalyzing type and having had the guest bath stocked with not just the necessities most would need, but the ones he figured I’d like, seeing as the theme was a mix of vanilla and coconut– something I’d mentioned after I’d gotten a delivery of candles a couple weeks prior.

I tried to push the thoughts of how endearing that whole mess was, the fact that he’d gone and remembered, as I stepped out and made quick work of getting ready for the day, forgoing drying my hair so that I could slip into the baggiest jeans I owned and a soft tee that often slipped over the curve of my shoulder.

The house was oddly quiet when I slipped past the bedroom door and down the steps, once again forcing thoughts of last night out of my head, of his grip, the soft smiles we shared, the–

I took a much needed breath when I reached the bottom, swivelling on my heel to cast a glance about. I knew that Rosie must have already been at school even without me not spotting her bag or shoes by the door, but I was still left with the feeling of longing I often experienced whenever I woke up to find that Lottie had since left.

Pushing on though, I noted that the house didn’t have that familiar chill I was used to enduring back home. The English weather was a mess of emotions even on summer days where the sun shone brightly, so it was nice not to be shivering my way into the kitchen and over to the kettle.

It was after doing exactly that though, that I spotted a small post-it stuck to the fridge door.

(Dropped off Z, in the studio if you need me. Eat! - Em)

Snorting softly at it, I tore the note down and let the corner press into the pad of my forefinger for a second or two. It was nice, having someone care enough to not want me to worry. Even the whole Eat! had me grinning, so used to running on fumes and pure anxiety that I often forgot. It was strange to note that it was a habit he’d picked up on, or perhaps I was just thinking too much into it. Maybe it was just him being personable.

Still, I folded the post-it up and slid it into the back of my phone case all the same. Not stopping to think twice about the why as I looked up at the kettle’s violent whistle.

I moved through my usual morning motions with an ease that shouldn’t have felt effortless in a kitchen that was not mine, but I did, walking to sit at the island not long after I’d procured myself a cup of tea and some toast.

I took to scrolling through my phone, checking Twitter for updates on friends back home and then moving over to Netflix to see if there were any new series that had dropped and appeared worth watching.

It was during that time that my phone soon rang. With one glance at the name I was wearing a mad grin and swiping to answer, “Well, isn’t this a surprise!”

A short scoff could be heard from the other side of the line before a familiar lilt trailed through, “And here I thought I was going to be met with love and a plethora of questions about my wellbeing. But no, only your sincerest sarcasm!” Lottie sighed theatrically, as though she wasn’t defeating the entire purpose behind her whole spiel.

“It’s seemingly a familial trait.” I quipped with a fond roll of my eyes, “But I have missed hearing your voice, texts don’t make up for much.”

“And what about my short videos?” Lottie replied with enough emotion behind her voice that I could already guess that she was raising one brow and pursing her lips. “Did they not suffice enough?”

“You mean the three second clips you keep sending me?” I laughed around a sip of tea, thinking back to the latest one I’d received the very same morning, “I don’t think me seeing your knee and hearing a Rihanna song play in the background is the same thing as knowing you’re alright back there.”

“Is too, and there were others!” Lottie immediately defended before a few other voices trailed through, “How about the one of me in Maths, hey?”

My face flattened at the reminder, “You mean the one of you gettin’ your phone taken away by your teacher?”

“Yes! See, all was fine, even Ms Plait reckoned so.” She quipped, the glee which lined her tone was oh so audible. “Did you not see that lovely smile of hers?”

I almost choked on my next chuckle, not having expected the comment, “Oh yeah, I saw. She still looks the same as the last time I saw her, face like a slapped arse and with one too many missing teeth.” Lottie sniggered and once again those voices from earlier followed, “You on your way home?” I wondered, looking down at the time and noting that she should have already left school by now.

“Yeah, just walking with Shan and Tea.” Her answer was followed by a loud hurrah of hellos from the pair that had me smiling.

“Heya girls, hope you’re all alright!” I greeted, listening to them ramble away for a couple of minutes about this and that, throwing me back to the days where the two girls had first come over to visit Lotts.

Time got away from me a little after that, leaving me with an almost finished but cold brew and the remnants of my toast that I soon got up to throw and wash away whilst Lottie and her mates said their goodbyes so that they could part ways.

“You’re having a good time then?” I found myself asking once Lotts had finished speaking about her school day, “Nothing I should worry about?”

I could practically feel the roll of her eyes as she huffed, “Yes, Lia. Honest. I’ve been keeping you updated, Mila too, whenever she texts– even Danny called yesterday! Did you meet those knobheads he calls friends? The Irish one’s well fit.”

Pursing my lips to keep from smiling, I shook my head at her antics. “I did and need I remind you, you’re fourteen?”

“I was just stating a fact!” Lottie argued, her voice unable to be drowned out even by the car that then passed, “God, you’d think you didn’t know me at all.” She tacked on, her tone teasing enough that I knew she wasn’t too bothered by the fact that she’d been called out.

“Know you too well.” I rebuked half-heartedly and then smiled at the response I was met with.

“Too much like you.”

“A shame that,” I snorted as I took back to sitting at the counter, eyes caught on the length of land that stretched out beyond the back door.

“Slander.” Lottie sniped, “But also the truth.”

We shared a chuckle even as I rolled my eyes, which led me onto the next topic of conversation I’d been wanting to bring up since my phone call with Danny in New York, “How’s things working out at Mum’s then?”

A pause followed that question. One that went on a second too long and had my shoulders tensing.

“Lotts?”

“Hm? Sorry, was just– crossing the road, you know.”

“Don’t lie. Tell me what’s going on before I hop on a plane and find out for myself.” I threatened, eyes catching on the island countertop as I pressed the phone closer to my ear, as though by doing so it would somehow allow me to be that little bit closer to her.

“So dramatic,” Lottie joked but it fell flat, what with my impatience and the lack of humour which lined her tone. She sighed, “Dad got out early.”

My whole world seamlessly fell apart at those four words.

I couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone any real words, so it was only Lottie’s voice calling my name that had me blinking back out of my frozen stance and inhaling sharply. “What?”

She coughed, either to clear her throat or to buy herself a little more time, I didn’t know, but couldn’t bring myself to care. “He– well, he’s on parole. Got out about a week ago. Staying with Mum, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I jumped out of the barstool I’d taken up to begin treacherously pacing. For a brief moment I wondered whether it was possible for me to wear away the pattern in Marshall’s kitchen tiles. “What are you on about, Lottie? He’s serving sixteen years.”

A heavy sigh. “Obviously he got out on good behaviour then, served just over fourteen, din’t he?”

I swallowed thickly, a motion which flipped my stomach and had me threatening to throw up the toast I’d just eaten. “Good fucking behaviour, him?” I scoffed out a laugh that was entirely mirthless, “And she’s just let him back, has she? I thought she was done with him the second he was inside!”

Lottie didn’t say anything to that, or for a while longer. It took me a minute to notice what with how seething I was.

I forced myself to take a breath, because this wasn’t about me. Then started to think a bit more rationally.

“Look, I’ll look up flights now, yeah? I can be home by tonight, or tomorrow morning if I’m lucky. I don’t know yet. Just have to contact Mila, then talk with Marsh– Shit.”

Marshall, what was I going to tell Marshall?

“Elia.”

Blinking, my reeling thoughts were immediately stopped by the sound of my sister’s voice, soft but demanding. She waited and I was left to tug a hand through my still damp hair.

“Listen, please don’t come back.”

What?

“What?” I croaked out, the ground having been ripped out from under me.

“It’s working.” Lottie replied, her voice still soft, trying to be kind. “I mean, I’ve stayed with Shan some nights but I’ve been staying at the house too. And it’s– it’s not bad, El. It’s nice even, to get to know him and things. Like at my own pace and whatnot.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“He’s changed apparently. Mum reckons so anyway, it’s what she told me.” Lottie continued on, filling the silence I’d left her with whilst my entire planet shifted, “Not so angry, or sad. Just tryna find a job and stuff, so he can follow the rules of his probation or something. Not sure. Din’t ask too much about it. He’s staying with Mum but he keeps to himself when he’s not trying to make amends and crap. Make up for lost time.”

Staying with Mum. In my fucking house, the very same one I’d paid for. That fucking scummy shitheaded cun–

I forced myself to breathe.

“El, it’s working out. I–” Lottie said, then took a second. When she spoke again, she sounded so small, her voice almost pleading, “He’s my Dad, Elia. I just want the chance to know him.”

My hand fell from my hair to cover my mouth, desperate to keep the sob that wanted to escape from being heard down the line. I swallowed it back, gave a shaky exhale, but eventually nodded. Even if it was just to myself.

“Okay, Lotts.” I heard myself say, somehow. “Okay, yeah. That’s, it’s fair.”

I was rewarded with a big huff of air, one that told me I’d done the right thing, that she was relieved to hear me say that it was all fine. “Thanks, El! Knew you’d understand.”

I didn’t. I don’t, I wanted to say.

“Yeah, ‘course, Lotts. He’s your,” I swallowed again, the walls of my throat itching, hands shaking ever so slightly, “–Dad. If it’s what you want then, yeah. Who am I to stop you?”

Who am I?

Violent flashes flooded my mind, words, voices. Then I was back in the kitchen again.

“Just, promise me, Lottie. Promise me that anything happens, you call me. You call Mila. You call Dan. Okay? Anyone. Anyone who can get to me. I’ll be there.” I told her in a low murmur, the desperation I felt seeping through but I didn’t take enough note of it to care. This was too important. “Promise me, Lotts.”

I could hear her smile in her next words, “Promise, El. Always. I love you.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I love you, too.”

…

I don’t know how much time passed after the call dropped, leaving me with nothing but the light spatter of rain that knocked against the house. But soon enough I was startled from where I’d been standing by the window in some sort of trance, staring down at the phone I still held in my hand.

I looked up so fast it almost hurt, but my alarmed look softened when I noticed it was just Marshall stood there, a slight furrow marring the skin between his brows. “Figured I’d come find you.”

My eyes slipped closed as I jilted my chin in reply, taking a much needed breath before casting another glance out across the garden. My mind was stuck on my conversation I’d had with Lottie, on thoughts of home and plans that would ultimately fall through.

A hand encased my elbow. “Yo, you good?” Marshall was still there, having ducked his head a tad to better look into my glossy eyes, that frown more prominent than it had been just moments before.

I stared back at him and felt my lip wobble, before I took another short breath and put on a smile, hoping it was sort of semi-convincing seeing as I nodded in retort. Must have been a tough fucking wish though because he levelled me with an expression that ultimately called out on all my bullshit.

“You wanna try that again?”

I casted my eyes downwards and chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling the way his hand inched up my arm before he eventually wrapped me up in his hold, letting me bury my head in the curve of his shoulder. My eyes squeezed tightly shut and even though I didn’t move to hug him back, I sagged into his hold, which must have told him enough to keep the two of us standing there.

“Who was on the phone?” He queried after a short while, fingers trailing over the small of my back almost subconsciously, but the gesture was enough to soothe the well in my throat and the chaos I had going on inside my mind.

“Lottie.” I answered, voice meek even to my own ears.

His chest moved with each breath he took, legs spread just far enough apart that his feet encased my own, and he smelt so familiar that it made me wonder just how quickly I’d grown to be comforted by it. Was that even normal?

“You need to head back?” He wondered out loud, the parent in him jumping out at the thought of something having happened with my sister, “You can use the jet, I can get Paul on it now.”

It amused me to no end to understand the lengths he’d go to help not just me, but my family too, warmed me completely in fact, but the offer also left me feeling lost. Because even though I would have left the second Lottie asked, I would have been devastated to leave.

I shook my head where it rested against his shoulder, pressing my forehead to the joint there before I spoke, “No,” I told him, the syllable wavering, “Just– she asked me to stay.”

“Right.” Marshall said quietly, though it felt like he’d forced the word out, “And you don’t want to?” He questioned, trying to understand.

My head shook once more, “It’s complicated.”

His hold tightened by a fraction and we stayed that way for a long second, then two, before he drew back to get a good look at me. “You wanna talk?”

I couldn’t stand to look into his eyes in that moment, far too fearful that I’d just end up crying then and there, so I sniffed instead and glanced off to the side. “Just complicated, I guess.” I muttered, repeating myself whilst trying so very hard not to think about the anxiety I felt over leaving Lottie there, thousands of miles away from me.

“Well, complicated’s my middle fuckin’ name.” Em replied and I couldn’t help it, the stupidness of it made me laugh and I knuckled at his stomach in retort, dropping my eyes. But he stilled my hands, holding them close so that I would finally look up at him, “Mean it.”

I already knew that though.

I peered down at our hands, the way my fists were now pressed against his chest, his bigger than my own and all but swallowing them whole.

“Lottie’s dad.” Is what I found myself saying, eyes locked on the tribal tattoo that encased his wrist. Em nodded gently, the gesture moving his torso as he shifted beneath my hands.

The muscle of my cheek was all torn up from where I’d been chewing away in my anxious mess, stressing over it all, and so I tried my best to keep from biting at it once more, not wanting to cut too deep. But even so, the notion typically centred me so I was now at a loss for how to process the plethora of thoughts that kept running through my head like a freight train at full speed.

Marshall seemed to sense this though, because not a second later were his thumbs running over the ridge of my knuckles. I felt my hands slacken a bit in their fisted hold.

“Well, you know how I mentioned he was inside? That first day I was here.” I finally continued, moving to peer back up at him again, only to find that he was already watching me, the blue of his eyes a shock to the system. I shook my head slightly and took another deep breath, “He got out, parole apparently. For good behaviour,” I scoffed at the very reminder but pushed on, “He’s staying with my mum and so that ultimately means Lottie too. Seeing as I’m not there.”

Marshall had since stilled in his entirety, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing with how suddenly motionless he went, but then his chin dipped and his thumbs resumed their gentle caress. “And she said not to go back?” He asked, clarifying.

I shook my head. “She–” I tried to get the words out but had to pause, if only for a second, to actually form them, “She wants to get to know him. Says he’s alright now, that he’s changed.” My eyes rolled on their own accord at that, not believing it for a second, “And well, who would I be to deny her that, hey? I mean, I know how she felt, never knew my dad, but she has a chance, you know? She’d hate me if I took it from her. Even if I know better.”

I slumped when I was finally able to take another much needed breath, inhaling deep enough to dislodge the heaviness that weighed on my chest but not enough to clear it completely.

Em tugged on my wrists lightly and so I peered back at him, aware of the seriousness he had since taken on. “What’s that mean, know better?” He asked and I had to pretend I didn’t reel back from him, like it hadn’t been the first reaction to the reminder that simultaneously crossed my mind. “Hey,” He tugged again, even gentler than he had before but enough to draw back my gaze, “You don’t gotta tell me shit, but,” He paused, eyes flitting between my own, “I’m here, okay?”

Nodding, incapable of doing much else, I said, “I know.”

He gifted the tiny beginnings of a smile sincere enough to have me pressing my nails into the curve of my palms. “Is she safe? With him there.” He clarified and I could only blink up at him, he waited me out.

“I think so. I–” I stuttered, memories hitting me again. I tried to brush them away, but failed. “He wouldn’t hurt her, I know that.”

Just you then.

The words went unsaid but the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. His hold lessened until I was able to let my hands drop to my sides. Marshall cleared his throat but I saw the way his hands fisted as he stepped away, “Was gone ask to work in the studio today, but we can just chill instead. Or you can do your own thing.”

I was quick to shake my head, already onboard with the studio idea. “No, studio sounds good. Keep my mind off shit.” I replied, looking down to check my phone and biting my lower lip when no new notifications from Lottie had come through.

“You sure?” Marshall prodded and when I looked over to him it almost appeared as though he was appraising me under a newfound light, behind the carefully guarded fortress that was his gaze.

Trying not to frown, I nodded again in assurance. “Yeah, just lemme text her again, and maybe Mila, then I’ll be right there.”

He continued to watch me for a second longer and it was only as I was about to say something about it, that he moved. “I’ma grab some drinks. You have a preference?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrugged lightly, “Water, juice, anything really. I don’t mind.”

Marshall seemed to take that as an incentive to grab a majority of the fridge, loading it all up on the counter beside him before he let the door swing close behind him. I raised a brow after having pulled up Mila’s contact and bit back the obvious laugh that wanted to escape when he mimicked the gesture, “What?”

“You good to carry all that?”

He glanced over to the plethora of bottles he’d procured and then back to me, “Two trips.” He declared as he swiped half of the contents into his arms.

I laughed at the picture he made, wondering how easy it was for him to flip my moods entirely. “We don’t need that many!”

“If I could, I’d flip you off right now.” Was the only reply I was given as he wandered out of the kitchen.

I let go of a sigh as I moved back to glance down at my phone again.

Messages To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) Did you know? About Lottie?

It only took a second before those familiar three dots were littering the bottom of my screen. Though in fairness, her phone was basically her fulltime job.

Messages Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) Everything’s fine. I told her not to worry you.

I couldn’t stop the scowl that overwhelmed my face at her response.

Messages To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) You serious? How was that your decision to make mila??

Messages Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) I care about the both of you. It wasn’t a split second decision, it was something I talked to Lottie about at length. She was the one who asked me to wait until I told you. I didn’t want it to interfere with what we had going on.

The fury which licked through me at her reply made her words feel too ingenuine.

Messages To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) Still not your fucking choice to make You should have told me You’re my manager, not her mother

Messages Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) Oh is all I am then? A manager? I thought we were closer than that, at least it felt that way when you went and entrusted Lottie to me, when you gave me that trust and asked me not to regret it. This is me trying, El. I didn’t choose to be the person to mediate between you both, that just came with the job. If you don’t like how I dealt with it, then maybe you should rethink having me in your sister's life.

Messages To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) Is this your way of guilt tripping me? I just can’t believe you didn’t mention it, not once! You are my manager mila, but I thought you were my friend first and foremost Using me being here as an excuse, with you not wanting to use something like Lottie’s father coming back into her life to intervene with my work? Is just beyond wild. I really can’t believe you didn't tell me

Messages Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) I thought I was doing best by the both of you. Just call me, Elia. Please?

Messages To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?) I need some time to think Maybe later

I quickly switched back to my messages with Lottie, inhaling sharply when I saw that she’d replied to my last text.

Messages To: Lottiebug 🐞 I love you loads and I wanna be there for you But I know you need to do this on your own I’m just worried Always worry about you, bug, but this is something I really didn't prepare for

Messages Lottiebug 🐞 I’m sorry I didn’t tell u Just figured it would be easier to wait til u got back Maybe u could meet him then, see how good it is My stomach rolled at the thought of being close to that man again, but I pushed through and didn’t linger on thoughts of me at sixteen.

Messages To: Lottiebug 🐞 I can get a flight home anytime If you want me, I’m a phone call away You know that right?

Messages Lottiebug 🐞 I know but this is something I need to do On my own Like I love u Els, but this is for me to do

She knew where to hit where it hurt, I supposed, as I stared down at the messages that had come through not thirty seconds after my own.

Messages To: Lottiebug 🐞 Promise me, Lottie Anything happens, you call me

Messages Lottiebug 🐞 Nothing will happen but I promise Promise to also call u before bed tonite yh?

I bit down hard on my cheek at the reassurance, which did nothing to reassure me, and felt the first ebb of blood, the way its metallic taste fled over my tongue in a haste to flood its entirety. Silently I cursed myself, but before I knew it my thumbs were flying over my screen again.

Messages To: Lottiebug 🐞 Okay Love you, bug x

Messages Lottiebug 🐞 Love u more weirdo!! Xxxx

I guessed that it would just have to do for now.

A creak had me looking up and to no one’s surprise Marshall had come back for the second half of drinks, so I pocketed my phone after making sure that it was on alert and not the usual silent, then moved to meet him at the counter. “Want help?”

His eyes narrowed at the offer and he was quick to swipe the lot of them up, “I said two trips.”

Shaking my head, I could do nothing but follow the idiot. Hoping to whoever was out there that the time in the studio would do me some good and allow me to leave thoughts of the past behind. For a while at least.

–

The studio was just a rather large portion of the lower level of Marshall’s house. It was decked out though, kitted with all the latest works and better than a majority of studios I’d worked in, truthfully. But it also had this homey sort of feel that allowed the music to flow a lot better simply due to the atmosphere that offered a familiar comfort.

“You got it?”

I let the door close slowly behind me, trying not to let its heavy weight cause a slam, before I trailed my way back on over to where Marshall was sat on one of the two black couches. They were leather and sleek, but their obvious expense was muted by the multiple layers of blankets and pillows he had lining them.

I glanced at him and held up the bound book I had in hand, having darted up the stairs to pull it from my case when I realised he wanted to work through lyrics first thing.

A majority of my thoughts were often jotted down in one notebook or another, but the notes app was a saviour for whenever an idea struck me and my book wasn’t near. I’d brought just the one on this trip, seeing as I’d been using it for the last two years and it was as thick as an actual brick. But back home I had about twelve others littering an old shelf in a room I mostly used for storage. The pleasures of having a house with rooms you didn’t really need, I figured.

Marshall’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of it, wrapped and bound in a thick wire to keep the pages from spilling open. I smirked in turn, wandering closer to slump down in the seat beside him, his laptop and the many pages he already had scattered about.

“You said book, not doorstop.” He mentioned when I turned to him, eyes still caught on the thing.

I thumped him with it before I placed it down by his laptop.

“Jesus.” He huffed, hand coming up to rub the arm I’d hit, before he made a reach for it.

I cringed silently in wait, it was one thing to write in the thing but there were all sorts of odd bits and bobs in that book; from little receipts from dinners that had inspired songs to bottle caps and Polaroids that had written me albums.

“Be careful,” I hurried when his fingers unwound the strap I’d had to superglue twice in the past month alone, “It’s basically–”

“Falling apart?” Marshall finished for me.

I smiled sheepishly in turn, shoulders jutting upwards in a shrug. “Yeah.”

He huffed a small laugh whilst I thinned my lips to keep from chuckling along with him.

A normal person wouldn’t have really known where to start with a notebook this size, especially seeing as the pages were both upside down and back to front, having been written in haphazardly over the years and oftentimes stuck back together. But it was also due to the first few pages being all blacked out and slightly torn, an artistic choice I’d claim over the truth of my hatred for the words that had once marked it, as well as the paw prints of a mate’s dog who had won a battle of tug of war with it.

But Marshall had never once claimed to be conventional and so he headed straight for the middle where a large photo had been stuck in, surrounded by a multitude of signatures, drawings and markings. “What’s this?”

At his question, I followed his gaze down to where his fingers toyed with the book, fighting against gravity to keep the remaining pages from spilling over.

“Mostly from people I’ve worked with over the past year or two. Musicians, writers, producers, even got a couple roadies too. But there are some markings from mates– like, see that little picture of a cow, right there? That was my friend Fran, she does tattoos and the like, figured it would be a nice addition. She’s beyond talented though, did this massive mural for me back home.” I paused to look the rest of them over, then reached out to point at a signature floating nearby, “That there is David’s little hello, a smiley face alongside a couple drops of his coffee.”

“As in Bowie?” Marshall asked me, eyes caught and flitting over everything else the page had to offer.

I blew out a small chuckle but nodded, “Yeah, it was just before his 25th album came out. He was proper lovely, only got to talk to him for a few minutes though.”

Marshall hummed and then tapped a finger against a stark green ink that blotted a corner of the page, “This one?”

“Matty Healy. Worked with him on the last release. He just drew a massive knob because he is one.” I replied, thinking back to last time I’d been in London and spotted him and some of the band in a Soho nightclub. “They released their own album a month or so before your last. It’s their first but they’re brilliant.”

He hummed again, so I wasn’t sure as to whether he knew who the fuck I was going on about, but before I could explain a little, Em grabbed my attention once more, gesturing towards the page’s main focus, the picture. “How old were you here?”

I scratched the side of my neck and thought about it, “I wanna say twenty-two? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that though, but yeah, around that age.”

The picture was a cutout from the Camden New Journal at one of my bigger gigs, just after I’d been scouted in the bar I’d been working at. It was a snap of me and the small band I’d worked with once we’d finished our set, the crowd throwing pints up in the air whilst they’d started to crowd the stage. It was a picture I had framed back at the house as well as in a few of my other notebooks. It was something I turned to whenever I felt as though I was failing, or feeling uninspired.

Marshall’s thumb grazed lazily over its corner for a moment before he finally moved to turn the page, eyes instantly taking in the sudden change of pace. This page was scattered; it held a lollipop wrapper in one corner from a song I’d written about well, lollipops and the like, a couple of verses that were upside down and in luminous pink, and then there was another bout of lyrics from a whole different session marked down in dark blue that were written sideways.

“Your mind’s as fucked as mine.”

I snorted at the phrasing but decided to take it as a compliment, “Thanks.”

He shook his head and then started carding his way through the rest of the book, picking out the lyrics he recognised from songs of mine, as well as a few others he liked. It went on like that for a while, the two of us getting consumed in ideas and metaphors, the way we could play with words and shape them into something or other.

An hour or two had to have passed before Marshall started pulling up different beats he’d been working on, explaining the samples used and the many layers that had been mixed in. I found myself liking a handful of them, even going as far as to start a harmony on one that Em appeared to tally down on a page he had laying out nearby.

“So, you gone rap then?”

The question, however off-guard it caught me, was one that had me rolling my eyes, “You gonna sing?” I snarked back, my words sounding almost like a dare.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip before they quirked up into a smirk, “I can’t sing. You though, you can spit.”

I shook my head and snorted, pulling the lyrics we’d scrounged up closer to me and purposefully not thinking about the notes I had stored away in my phone.

“Don’t be like that.” Marshall prodded, shifting in his position to nudge me with his elbow, “Jus’ think about it. This could be the time to experiment. You say your label wants something different, something to garner attention on your next record, right? So.. this here, it’s just me and you. No one else. And I’m only gone judge you if you’re really crappy.”

“Oh, and that makes me wanna try so much more!” I enthused, letting my songbook spring back open as I pulled away– the thing honestly had a mind of its own.

Marshall tutted, “Come on.”

I sighed, but did end up looking back over to him. “You’re a dick.”

He raised his eyebrows in retort, then decided to try a new tactic. “Fine, how ‘bout this. You rap something of mine. Then I’ll sing one o’ yours.”

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. “You're shitting me.”

Marshall just shook his head, “You in or out?”

My eyes flickered between his, mouth slightly agape. But found I couldn’t turn down the offer. “Alright, but I get to choose what song.”

“For me or you?”

I flashed him a sly grin, “Both.”

He let go of a long breath but ultimately decided that the term was worth it, “Aight, bet.”

And so that was how I got to start rapping Rabbit Run in the middle of Marshall’s home studio, the beat playing throughout the room whilst the man himself watched on from the couch with a slow growing grin on his face.

I got so into it that I ended up working my way through the entirety of the song, bouncing away and playing up to the freedom of it just being the two of us.

“Whoo, go on!” Em hollered loudly once the final lyric had come and the beat had ended, kicking his feet against the floor whilst I laughed and shook my head at the reaction. It was in moments like these that I could often forget that he was marginally one of the biggest rappers of our generation.

When he was like this, all goofy and happy, he was just Em.

“Good now?” I asked around another chuckle, my nose wrinkling as I moved to sag back into my seat, hating how my cheeks had flushed at being the centre of attention as well as his praise.

“Good? Girl, you’re rappin’ on this record even if it kills me!” Marshall stated, blowing a breath out around his grin, the one I’d grown accustomed to only seeing in rare and few moments.

“Fuck off.” I huffed, but even with the harsh words I was still smiling, just sheepish in the face of his applause.

“I’m bein’ for real. You got talent. When you’re up there, you just go for it ‘cause it’s fun. It’s all a joke to you, and you like bein’ in on it. But you’re good.” Marshall told me, having turned in his stance so that he could gesture along to his words, only furthering his point. “You don’t even know it.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to look away, wanting to hide the warmth that failed to leave me as I waved off his words with a hand that he then caught with his own, tugging on my arm until I looked back at him.

“Trust me on this.”

Just hearing those words, I was instantly reminded of the night before. Means a lot that you trust me.

His eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t cope with it, so I smiled and let his fingers slip from my grasp. “This you trying to back out of our deal, Mathers? ‘Cause if I remember rightly, you still owe me a song.“

Marshall shook his head ever so, but let me get away with the change in subject, moving forward so that he could push himself to his feet. I slid closer to his laptop and headed to YouTube quickly to find an instrumental that someone had made of one of my songs. I looked through them all until I grinned and decided on an older work.

“Ready?” I asked over the screen. He simply flipped me off in return, so I huffed around a smirk and pressed play, letting the track croon out of the surrounding speakers.

Good Company was a song I’d written long before I’d gone and gotten signed. It was rough and full of soul, but was easy enough to sing along to if you missed the high runs on the bridge. It juxtaposed the best and worst parts of me, but concentrated on me only ever showing those worse and bitter parts of myself to those I loved most. It wasn’t one the label had liked at first but it grew on you, and though it hadn’t been a chosen single it had actually managed to make it onto the Top Ten when the album had debuted. It was a favourite of mine and to hear Marshall attempt to sing and not butcher it that badly, well, it was sort of like a dream come true.

“Why the fuck do you claim you can’t sing?” I announced the second the song came to a close. Because I honestly had to give it to him, even with the slight laughter he’s started out with, Marshall had truly given it his best. He’d pranced around like a div (which had just told me that he’d seen the music video) and had actually attempted to hit those higher notes that even I sometimes struggled with when playing live.

“‘Cause I can’t.” Marshall scoffed, panting slightly as he fell back onto the couch, fiddling with the rim of his hat whilst he took the spare second to catch his breath.

“Don’t lie! You can. Bit pitchy at times,” He extended his arm out to swat me at that, yet I still continued on, “But you’re good, Marsh! We should harmonise together.”

He rolled his eyes at the very idea, but kept them shut when he pulled his hands up to rest on his stomach. I smiled at the sight.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me just yet, old man.” I prompted, “We’ve got work to do.”

Marshall’s foot struck out to kick at my ankle, which was deserving, I supposed. Still, I returned the hit with just enough force to get him up and moving again. He sighed in resignation and then reached for the glasses he had laid out, swivelling his hat round so that he could look over the few sheets we’d complied.

Struck at the sight of him in his wired frames and backwards cap, I had to literally tear my eyes away and down onto the paper I was handed before he could catch me looking. He was none the wiser.

“We’ve got some good shit. But ‘s not enough.” Marshall mentioned after a minute or so of silently debating, his eyes wracking over the sprawled lyrics we’d produced.

I chewed on my lower lip, phone burning a hole in my back pocket. When he sighed once more, I felt the sudden need to just show him the notes and put the idea out there.

Heaving out a breath, I forced the device from my jeans to open up my notes app, flicking past the few that were worthless until I came across one I’d been thinking about since we’d first sat down.

Em chose that moment to glance over at me, eyes somehow bluer behind the lens of his glasses. I swallowed and all but shoved the phone towards him.

He frowned but took it, unable not to, and I watched on in silence as he read it through, then read it though again. His fingers began tapping away on his knee the third time around.

When he looked back up at me, I was surprised by the sudden change his face held, the way his expression had literally lit up. “The fuck you been holdin’ out on me for?” He practically demanded, voice having kicked up a pitch in his eager haste to try and work this into the mix.

I was left blinking back at him, watching as he scribbled a plethora of words and letters onto the page we’d been working on, using arrows and lines to showcase his thinking, how he wanted the song to move. To flow.

I barely had a second to think before he had his own phone out and was dialling away. My eyes widened when the Master of Mixology himself picked up.

“What do you want, Marshall?”

Any other time I would have cackled at the sheer amount of resignation that greeting held, but it seemed as though I was suddenly tongue tied.

“Why you always think I’m doin’ stupid shit?” Marshall shot back at the man, though from where I was sat I could see the slight curve to his lip.

“‘Cause I know you? And you usually are.” Dre answered, blunt and to the point. Very much how I’d pictured him. “So why d’you stop to fuck up my afternoon?”

“It’s afternoon already?” Marshall asked, brow furrowing as he shared a look with me.

“Two pm.” Dre told him with a sigh.

“Shit.” Marshall muttered under his breath, gesturing to me with a hand and an almost pleading look, “Set an alarm for when Z gets in, please?”

“Be easier if you did it, Em. Seeing as I’m in New York and you’re in Detroit.” Dre answered, which earned him a scoff from Marshall.

“Not you.” He told the older man, but I was already on it, swiping out of my notes app so that I could do exactly that.

“The fuck?”

Marshall’s mouth twitched at the disgruntled retort, “With Elia right now, man. We’ve been workin’ on some new shit.”

“El–ee–ah!” Dre called back, really getting into the pronunciation of it. I chuckled softly. “How are you? Is Marshall takin’ good care of you? No troubles, right?”

Grinning, I leaned in closer to Em to be heard. “He’s been a real gent. Holding open doors and basically waiting on me hand and foot.” I teased, earning a side eye from the man himself, “If anything you should be asking him if he’s holding up okay.”

“She got you wrapped round that finger quick!” Dre gruffed out a laugh, the sound loud and joyous even through the phone’s tinny speakers, “It’s what I like to hear.” He added as his laughter ebbed, “Glad things are working out between you both– what’s this about the album then? We got something special?”

Marshall’s tongue darted out over his lip as his eyes flickered over to find me, “I think we hit the jackpot with this one, man. Can already picture it, Dre, like honestly. Shit she’s pulled out has got me feelin’ all nostalgic– it’s good. Too good. Reminds me of some of the stuff they were spittin’ way back before I came around.”

My eyebrows rose a little at his explanation, but I didn’t dare add on or contradict his words. Not that I would, seeing as he was practically spot on with the analysis.

“No shit?” Dre sounded surprised, but I took it in stride when Em shuffled forward on the couch in his haste to read out some of the stuff we had jotted down, as well as the few lyrics I’d just handed him.

The man on the other end of the call hummed in thought when Marshall finally wrapped up his whirlwind of a reply, letting the silence linger between us until I was chewing on the insides of my cheeks once more.

“I’ll Facetime you later once you’ve worked on it some more.” Dre eventually said, halting the tic of Em’s knee, a gesture I only took note of once it had stopped. “It’s promising though. Real promising. Figure we got something here with the pair of you.”

The look Marshall shot me at that had my mind turning to sludge.

–

Alarms always had me spooked, the sound so abrupt and alert that even though I was expecting it, I was never truly expecting it. You know?

Marshall and I had continued to work away, floating ideas back and forth with Dre and then without him once the man eventually got called away. It was slow going, but like Dre himself had said, oh so promising.

Never had I felt so listened to during a writing session. Marshall never failed to give me his full attention even when he was scrawling away or counting a tempo, it was as though he was able to just hone in on every notion I brought up, building on it as he nodded away and pointed to the places he figured we could add it in or just blend.

So by the time that alarm finally rang out, it was safe to say we were making a hell of a lot of progress. So much so that Marshall looked torn once we’d both jumped out of our skin at the sound and I’d hurried to silence it.

His hands fluttered through the many pages we had, as well as my songbook, mouth thinned as his brows dipped together. Rosie would be home in a matter of minutes but he was still spinning with ideas.

I, on the other hand, was all too ready to take a break, head starting to feel heavy with the sheer amount of words it had taken in today. Marshall was a fucking living and breathing thesaurus.

“I can go hang out with her for a bit if you wanna keep on working.” I offered after I’d checked my phone for any recent notifications, noting that the only message I’d received was from Mila. An apology of sorts, letting me know that she’d be willing to wait for me to reach out again.

Em’s frown was palpable. He shook his head, “Can’t ask you to do that.”

I let go of an amused huff, “Good thing you didn’t ask then, I offered.”

His forehead furrowed further whilst he continued to collect the many sheets, I passed him the one I’d been gatekeeping. “Still.” He tried to push, but I just shrugged the word away.

“I could use the break,” I mentioned, reaching for the few empty bottles we’d settled on the floor around our feet, “Might even get a headstart on dinner if you guys aren’t going out.”

Marshall looked a little perplexed at that, “Goin’ out?”

I shrugged again, but smiled when he handed me his latest bottle, piling it into the bin alongside the rest so that I could take it back up the stairs with me. “I don’t know what plans you have!” I laughed lightly.

He ended up rolling his eyes at that, “If I did they’d include you, idiot. Wasn’t plannin’ on goin’ out though.” He retorted, before pausing and glancing over to me, “Why, did you want to?”

Honestly, he was hard work. I could only huff out another round of chuckles as I shook my head at him, “No, you’re all good. Like I said, I could get started on dinner.”

The expression he pulled then looked almost strained, as though he wasn’t used to being offered help, much less willing to accept it. But I could tell that he wanted to. He was on a roll here and it was obvious that he was desperate to keep ahold of that inspiration for as long as it would last.

I stopped with what I was doing to step closer again, hoping to reassure him somewhat. “I wouldn’t offer, if I minded.” I told him gently, “Just pray that I don’t poison the lot of us or burn the house down if I do start cooking though.”

He laughed a little at that, face softening at my words. It still took him another minute or so to finally agree, dipping his head ever so slightly in the most minute version of a nod, “You’ll call out if you need me?”

I raised a brow, “What, into your soundproof studio?”

He breathed out another chuckle, tongue pushing against his teeth as his hands fell limply between his knees, papers shuffling ever so. “Call me, call me. Or just use the intercom.”

“Yeah, not happening.” I quickly quipped, eyeing the so called intercom with obvious distaste, “I’ll call. I don’t know the first thing about how to work that.”

Marshall’s smug smirk was evident when I glanced back over at him, enough so that I could only flip him off as I moved to leave the room, muttering under my breath about being too kind to idiots, something that only proved to humour him further.

“‘Preciate it!” He called out just before the door could close behind me.

It had me smiling all the same.

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