Ronance headcanons?
Ronance Headcanons
I have had the BIGGEST brain rot about these two, you guys don't even know, so please excuse my rambling session in this post. As always- feel free to share your headcanons, opinions, thoughts ideas, just be kind <3
-Robin is the biggest simp to ever exist. Nancy mentions liking a color? Guess who's suddenly adding it all over their wardrobe! A favourite food? She's already learned how to cook it. Allergic to something? Robin will destroy it with her bare hands and make it go extinct to protect her girl.
-Likewise, Nancy would and will kill for Robin (come on Robin tell her to kill for you she wants to)
-Their favourite dates include them sitting in one of their rooms, a movie or music playing as they discuss conspiracy theories or whatever story Nancy is working on
"There's been a ton of missing items from farms in the areas. Animals, tools, bales of hay-"
"could it be aliens?"
"Alie- Robin it's not aliens!"
"What? Interdimensional monsters are real but aliens aren't?"
-Many people assume Nancy would get annoyed by Robins carefree joke centered attitude but actually she calms down whenever Robin tries making jokes.
-She doesn't like when people don't take things seriously, but she knows Robin is taking it serious, but using humour to make sure they don't spiral with the problem
-their relationship definitely started off rocky but with some time, understanding and surprisingly really deep conversations they learn to appreciate the little things about one another.
-Robin loves Nancy's drive and her leadership skills. She makes sure that everyone takes her seriously and if the kids complain about Nancy being a hard ass she brings them back to listen.
"Nancy's not our boss!"
"No, but she's the one keeping you dipshits safe- she knows what she's doing so listen up and quit complaining"
-They kids listen to Robin more and so when she follows Nancy with no complaints, the kids unconsciously follow suit.
-When Nancy gets stressed/aggravated Robin will be there to lend her a shoulder. They're very much leader/Right Hand man coded to me.
-Nancy doesn't know much about queer culture so when she does eventually come out Robin is happy to talk to her about it and share what she knows.
"So we use Blue violets because Sappho used to describe women wearing garlands of them,"
"Sappho?"
"... Do you have a spar 3 hours so I can explain Sappho and Greek poetry to you?"
-They take all kinds of cute little Polaroids that they keep at Robins place
(examples of said Polaroids)
-Robins family is more supportive so often Nancy goes over there to spend the night
-when college comes up in discussions Robin mentions that she enjoyed investigating with Nancy, the research was fun when they didn't have death looming over them.
"Yeah, learning Russian to break the code was awesome- the torture kind of ruined it though-"
"The WHAT?"
-Nancy asks Robin 1000X if Robin is sure she wants to go to the same college/same field and Robin promises her that she isn't only going because of her.
"I'd follow you anywhere, but this is also for me- if I have to do one more customer service job I might kill someone."
-They love movie nights, curled up under a blanket watching whatever film they can find. Robin always finds the oddest ones and sometimes some really deep indie films. Nancy also enjoys the foreign films she can find and let's her choose.
-on nights Nancy chooses- she likes care free fun films. Nothing too heavy because she likes the simplicity
-Theyre a gross matching couple- but in a new fun way.
-Mat hing colors in their respective styles, using each other's clothes and making it go with their personal choices, matching patterns/designs.
-They also shared shoes sometimes
-On the 90s Nancy gets a more "Rachel from friends" style like this
-Robin eats it up like no one is watching and often has to hold back from just kissing her 24/7
(also I badly wanna do a look book of the characters so Please someone ask for that because I love fashion)
I definitely probably have more but here you are!!
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Ok so I watched the interview with Stephen Rooney, Astarion's writer, and here are some highlights. (I'm an aspiring writer and current game design student who wants to write for games so I'm sorry if some of these insights aren't as interesting to you as they are to me <3)
He calls Astarion his "horrible little vampire boy"
He loves seeing the fandom around Astarion<3
He did write other characters in the game, but mostly NPCs surrounding Astarion or his storyline, so it mostly revolved around Astarion
Astarion is not as connected to other companions/Origins as, for example, Lae'zel and Shadowheart, or Wyll and Karlach are to each other, but he is still reactive to their stories, even if it's just to stand off to the side and laugh when something terrible happens
He had a clear sense of where Astarion's story would start and end, but it got "muddy in the middle", but those are also moments where the best ideas come from
They write from the general idea that every character has one "good" and one "evil" ending, in order to give the player choice. RIP Ascendant apologists :(
According to Stephen, two of the most important aspects of Astarion's character (to keep consistent when bringing him to Idle Champions, at least) is that he enjoys violence, but is also fun about it
"He has a certain appreciation for violence, I guess? A bit of a murdery streak. [...] He's a vampire, he's all about blood, and he's all about, kind of, those darker sides of humanity. [..] But at the same time, he is ... He is really fun, he's really fun to write, he's really fun to have in your party, and it's very important for me that that is also represented."
"He's gonna stab you, but will have a smile on his face as he does it? I mean, I dunno. That's kind of him in a nutshell."
Larian would not have allowed for Astarion to be a typical brooding Dracula type, and there were scenes that were shot down for not being original enough
The main thing about Astarion was trying to get a "sense of fun." It would be easy to write a character that was very unlikable, and they absolutely did not want to do that
Rooney says Astarion is consistently terrible throughout the game and awful in a whole lot of ways, but he also needed to be charming enough that you could tolerate his presence and wanted him around
Rooney also had a lot of input on Astarion's stats (meaning the 10 Charisma is probalby 100% intentional)
He also had input on how certain lines should be delivered, even though the writers didn't directly work with voice actors
The way Astarion moves and poses is "all Neil"
Apparently, Neil Newbon worked on the character for years and Rooney did not speak to him once, though his voice work did influence how Astarion's lines were written and it became a "feedback loop" (Possible context for "ONLY SLIGHTLY, NEIL")
There were no points where a line delivery drastically changed Astarion's writing; rather it was a constant, slow evolution
However, there was one very spoilery moment where Neil gave such emotion to some "basic" lines that it fundamentally changed the scene (WHAT IS IT OMG)
It's difficult to balance approval, as you don't want to straight up write a monster. Every character needs to have some humanity in them. So if it comes to leaving the party, it needed to be the result of something central to said character. They wanted to be mindful of situations that would cause actual rifts between characters. (I assume this is why most generic disapprovals/approvals are +/- 1 or 2, while character-related ones give +/-5 or more)
However, as they don't write straight up horrible people/monsters, it doesn't come up as often as one might think.
The interviewer makes a point about how characters like Astarion and Lae'zel are good examples of how to play "evil" characters, as they are maybe not the best people but are still eager and willing to stick around the other party members
They worked to make sure the characters would work as a group, no matter the configuration of the group. The characters needed to be on the same path, even if they don't always agree or walk that path the same way.
Stephen Rooney is very proud of the "climactic" scene of Astarion's story. (AS HE SHOULD BE.) He even had to step away from the computer and have an emotional moment. Me too, man.
He's also "extremely pleased" that there's a point where you can punch Astarion in the face. "Actually, that one might be my favorite part" A MAN OF THE PEOPLE!!
Stephen Rooney's tip on what specific thing you should try out with Astarion: When he's trying to get a "sneaky nibble" at night, you should "probably" let him bite you. Way ahead of you there, sir.
No discussion about Astarion's romance unfortunately, but that's that!
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You know what I love about ur series and stories in the mafia141, is that the main character is still afraid of them even if they’re kind and loving to her. But it’s so subtle and it gives some realism and emotion to the mc.
AND I MIGHHHTTT BE READING AND THINKING TOO MUCH ABOUT IT but I even saw it in the medieval series so I had to ask about it.
It’s not like they kidnapped her and she quickly accepted her new life immediately like “oh welp gotta live with these men I know nothing about that barged into my house with a gun then killed my husband” it’s like, if one of them even looked at her wrong or spoke to her ina slightly different tone of voice then she’s shivering
cause all the low trauma she received from all the stuff she went through w them comes flooding back her senses.
She could die.
Matter of a fact she was upset and refused to speak to them when they barged into her house and moved her into a new place, completely taking over her life and doing as they pleased and.. can she say no? she knows she’ll suffer the same deal as her ex husband… she’s scared
Yeah she likes it of course and she’s living a semi good life.. but it’s still clicks in her head that “price could kill me if he FELT like it and I should be afraid of that and listen to him to keep my limbs in check.”
Waiting for the day they’ll be bored of her. So she keeps them entertained doing it unconsciously. Survival instincts sorta?.
maybe you’ll write something about that where she finally lets herself be calm and normal with them and not fearful as much but of course it’ll take time action and patience.
She’s prey getting tossed around by the predators
-🧇
you know what's funny? you are absolutely right about all of this (including the part about the medieval au because the element is more prominent than in this au). you've just described the next part of this series perfectly🤭
y'all are gonna hate me for this🙃
warnings: +18 smut, p in v, light choking, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, past trauma (gaslighting, manipulation, emotional, psychological and sexual abuse) coming into play.
you've always known this would be temporary. whatever this arrangement with 141 is, you know it can't last forever. it's a casual thing, that much you're aware of, even if it hadn't been explicitly stated. sooner or later, one by one, all four of them are either going to get bored and/or find partners of their own and live their lives separate from yours.
"you're losing my interest." his voice is calm, lazy even. but there's an edge to it. the icy fire in his veins nipping at the ankle, a predator barely flashing his teeth to remind those watching that he could end them just like that. "and that's very dangerous."
he leans back on the couch on his end, breathing out a slow puff of smoke. the words aren't directed towards you, but they leave a chill in the air all the same. the person sitting across from Price, a short old man with a pot belly and a comb-over, gulps and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his sweaty nose.
to you, Mr Hodge looks like a father of four kids. a local, working man just trying to get by. he looks like he's just trying to gather up enough money for all of his children for college and probably waiting for the eldest to give birth so he can finally be a grandfather. he looks like he could be telling stories to the little ones at Christmas. you'd never guess that he's an advocate for some other devil in another gang territory.
you squirm on Gaz's lap. he comforts you by rubbing your back, quietly telling you that the meeting will be over soon. you hadn't meant to be here. you wanted to leave as soon as the man had arrived, but Price didn't mind you staying.
"please, sir..." the nervous man said, hands fiddling with the glass of bourbon in his hand. "it—it's a fair deal."
"is it really?" Price challenged, raising an eyebrow. "you think any deal with Phillip Graves is a deal worth making?"
Mr Hodge doesn't answer. he remains incredibly still, eyes blinking rapidly at the leader of the group. he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here and honestly, you don't blame him.
Price leans forward and flicks his cigar over the ashtray with sigh a sigh. the action stretches his dress shirt tightly over his back, the two top buttons already undone.
"i know his lot. he's the kind that doesn't keep his word." he says, eyes lazily shifting to the guest. all amusement fades and his voice darkens. "and the kind that stabs his own in the back."
you don't know who Phillip Graves is. but you know none of the boys don't like him. and you know the boys also don't like treachery.
you've heard things, whispers from your coworkers about people going missing around the city because they pissed off the wrong man (or men) because they said something they shouldn't have to someone else.
you've heard about how Ghost put down the men who betrayed him and left him for dead, how there weren't even bodies left for their families to bury. you've heard that Gaz had swept through an entire room of men who stole from their organisation, per Price's command. and he'd done it happily because he was equally as pissed. you've heard that where there's smoke, there's Soap because he's rumoured to be a bit of a pyromaniac.
hell, the act of treachery itself is what brought you to their doorstep in the first place and got your late husband buried six feet under because he decided to bite the hand that fed him.
"and you want me to go into business with him." Price added, his tone making it clear that he was against the idea.
"think he takes ye for a fool, Captain." Soap scoffed with a light shake of his head.
"oh?" you watched the amusement spark in his eyes again as he glanced at his subordinate. the gaze shifts back to the sitting across from him. "is that true, Mr Hodge?" Price lilts, smirking. "do you take me for a fool?"
"n—no! no, sir. that's n—not true."
poor guy, you thought. he's only a messenger. scared out of his mind as he's surrounded by a pack of wolves. you want to intervene, you do.
but John's words "you're losing my interest. and that's very dangerous" echo sharply in your mind and deter you from speaking up. you don't dare to say a word, fearing that the wolves might turn on you instead.
you bury your face in Kyle's neck and close your eyes, trying to tune out the man's pleas for mercy.
technically, you never had a say in the matter. coming to live with them, that is. you're not ignorant to the fact that they could've either killed you or forced you to live with them, whether you consented to it or not.
the only reason you went along with it is because you wanted to let them believe that you didn't know this tiny fact. to let them believe that you're a pacified lamb, letting them herd you wherever they want you to be. you know it'll hurt far less if you comply because you've seen what happens, or at least heard of what happens, to those who resist their will.
and it's been easy to let them do whatever they wanted. sell your little apartment. move you into another one. take you to their base. sit on their lap. kiss them. have sex with them. let them pump you full of cum whenever they like. it's easier that way because you don't want to have to think about what'll happen if you refuse to do any of it.
but after today, after the last few weeks at least, it's been getting harder and harder to ignore that just because the edge of the knife isn't pressed to your neck right now doesn't mean it won't be in the future.
you're only as good and useful to them as long as you do as they say. that's the policy.
Gaz finds you staring at the sink after you've washed your face in the bathroom. it takes everything in you not to flinch when he touches your shoulder. "you alright, love? do you need anything?"
your eyes catch his in the mirror and you're choked by the influx of words. you want to tell him that you never want to see that again. that you never want to be part of that world.
but you can't say it. any of it. you don't want him to tell you that you're thinking too much of things, that it's just a normal part of their lives. that you'll adjust. that you're overreacting.
suddenly, it's not your own voice that speaks to you. that warns you, heeds you of your actions. but it's someone else. someone long dead and buried.
don't be difficult, Blair hisses at you.
you don't flinch. your expression doesn't shift to reveal his thoughts, his warnings flooding into your mind. coaching you on what to do, on how to survive.
words that were once spoken to suppress you, to put chains around your wrists and build an entire cage that gleamed under the light. words that you now cling to because they make more sense than anything.
don't be difficult. don't raise your voice. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry-
thankfully, you think you've gotten better at lying over the last few weeks. you manage to pull him in for a kiss, murmuring a lie into his mouth, telling him that you're okay before he can discern the legitimacy of it. it distracts him as he immediately melts into your touch and wraps his arms around you, sliding his tongue into your mouth.
when you were sure that he'd been thoroughly derailed from your internal turmoil, you finally pulled away and gave him a sweet smile.
he nudges your nose against his, all concern melting from his eyes as he presses his lips over yours again. his hand gripping your ass and hooks your leg up, lifting you onto the sink. just as he was about to start pulling at your clothes, he hisses sharply when his phone vibrates.
"fuck..." he groans, pulling away and checks his phone. "duty calls, bunny."
you pout while working on fixing his tie. "later?"
"later." he agrees, pecking your lips one last time.
Gaz doesn't show up later as promised. you try not to be disappointed. of course, the work he does is important. dangerously so. instead, Ghost took his place in keeping you company.
you try not to wince at the dark spotting around his eye. he kisses your palm over his mask when you asked him if he's alright. he suggested a movie because he was exhausted. you gladly let him in and get on to making popcorn for the two of you. you found him slumped over on the couch and chuckled at him.
not fifteen minutes into the movie, a historical comedy to help him relax, you're both startled by the sound of his phone vibrating on the coffee table. you think you know what's about to happen. your chest tightens anyway as you watch him reach for the device.
"fuckin' hell." he sighs as he reads the text.
"now?" you ask as he stands up. "really?"
"sorry, luv." he pockets his phone. "duty calls."
you left the tv on to distract you from the overwhelming ache of his absence. it's hard not to take it personally. but it's so fucking reminiscent of those first few months with Blair. always taking calls and texts and leaving right after.
soon, he wasn't just taking off to work. soon, he'd be disappearing off for days without telling you where he went and comes back dishevelled and bright-eyed with lipstick marks on his shirts. soon, he'd be snapping at you for asking too many questions, telling you to be grateful for what he's given you, telling you to shut up.
whatever it is 141 has going on is obviously keeping them busy, you get that. but for the fact that they basically abducted you from your old life and brought you here, you think a little bit of attention should be granted to you, right? they owe you that much at least.
you just don't want to end up in the same destructive cycle with someone even more dangerous than the previous man.
Price has a habit of surprising you when he has you making a mess of his cock. doesn't happen often, but happens enough times for you to anticipate something that will make you tighten around him and make him all smug about it after.
this time, the surprise wasn't so pleasant.
you're startled by the hand on your neck, immediately gripping his wrist and your whole body locks, paralysed. it takes everything in you not to struggle, not to move. all of the heat draining from you and ice filling your veins in the blink of an eye as you look up.
for a moment, it's not Price looming over you, but a dead man. the image flickers away just as quickly as you gasp and blink rapidly to stay focused. and just as quickly he stops rocking his hips and immediately eases up on you, releasing his grasp on your neck with the heavy call of your name.
"i'm sorry. are you alright, love?" he pants, eyes scanning your features, his hand cupping your face. "i didn't hurt you, did i?"
you're whiplashed at how fast his demeanour changes. one minute he was determined to rearrange your guts and the next, he's checking to see if you're okay as if he's looking for wounds.
"no, i—" you breathe deeply as you're sitting up, trying not to let your voice get too squeaky. "i–it's fine. i'm fine."
he doesn't believe you. you try to feign a smile. "give a girl a warning next time."
the momentary lapse in judgement had kicked in an unpleasant rush of adrenaline that left you trembling as you reach for him, trying to pull him in for a kiss.
but he stops you, holding the back of your head to pull you away. "maybe we should stop."
deep down, you agree. you don't think you can get through the night without something breaking in you if you allow this to continue. but you have to let it happen.
don't be difficult. the words flitter to you in the quiet night. your eyes drop to his cock, still hard, still glistening. he's still sweating, flushed and chest heaving in breaths to make up for the steady flow of blood.
"no." your hand touches his shaft, stroking him while you press your lips over his. "keep going."
"darling." he grabs your wrist, careful not to be too forceful as he pushes at your shoulder. "stop."
your gaze shifts away from his, shoulders raising. "sorry."
"don't be." he gently says. "hey..." he cups your cheek, meeting your eyes. "this is on me. i pushed a boundary, i made you uncomfortable. if anyone's sorry, it's me."
"you didn't mean to." you reason, but he shakes his head.
"regardless." he refuted. "i'm sorry, love."
don't cry. don't cry—
tears sting your eyes the more you tell yourself not to let them spill. John brings you into a warm embrace, silencing every voice in your head and fills it with his instead with soft apologies.
"won't happen again, alright?" he murmurs into your hair and you let out a deep sigh of relief, melting into his arms.
it doesn't stop the tiny voice at the back of your head telling you not to get too comfortable.
it doesn't go unnoticed that the rest of the boys refrain from initiating sex. and honestly, that might have been the last straw.
you needed a break from them. one night with your girls. with Eleanor. one night to forget about everything and get drunk out of your mind. but alas, you're denied that too.
"you can't be serious. it was one time!" you say, exasperated. "i can't be cooped up in here all day, every day for the rest of my life."
regardless of your pestering, Soap maintains an apologetic look. Ghost barely acknowledges your raised voice from the couch, opting to read his book instead of listening to you bitch and moan about how you wanted to go out with your girlfriends again. but you know he hears you. you know that the moment you attempt to grab your purse and run, he'll be right there, blocking the door.
"i ken, bonnie." Soap's hands gently grasp your shoulder as he tries to placate you. "ye want some fresh air, but—"
but, your skin prickles uncomfortably at his next few words.
it's not safe.
it's for your own good.
for a split second, you're in your dead husband's mansion. the weight of his gaslighting and years of isolation pressing down on you. suffocating you. dragging you down to the bottom of the dark waters, forcing you to sit in the cold, silent abyss of your loneliness.
Blair didn't love you unless it's easy for him. till you were pliant and easily malleable to his whims. always asking for forgiveness when he hurt you, rather than asking for permission to do things he knew would make you uncomfortable. losing him had been twice as easy, far better than lying to yourself and telling your heart that what he does, he does it to keep you safe.
you silently beg Soap not to say it. that he's just joking. that he'll even go with you. but no.
"we think it's better if ye lay low." he tells you. "just for a little while."
and there it is. always the same damn problem, always the same shtick. same man, different faces. you feel the sting at the corner of your eyes, your heart beating too fast for your lungs to catch up.
"and how long is a little while?" you snap, shrugging his hands off. from behind him, you barely catch the shift of Ghost's head.
"bonnie—"
you shake your head, taking a step back to swirl and go straight back to your room, hiding further inside this prison.
you avoid them for a week. hardly make any conversation with them too, despite them being around you nearly all hours of the day. you quietly eat dinner, not making eye contact with any of the four of them.
"Soap tells me you wanted to go out the other day."
the dinner table goes quiet. your gaze lifts to catch his at the end of the table, twirling his fork. Gaz keeps eating, eyes fixed on his plate. Ghost glances at you only once. his sigh does not go unnoticed by you, almost as if he knows what's coming. Soap's grimace gives him away.
Price's expression is unnervingly stern. you manage to keep a blank stare, despite the blood roaring in your ears. you may have gotten better at lying. to Soap, to Gaz and maybe even Ghost. but not Price. he's always seen right through you and that is not about to change anytime soon.
there's four of them and only one of you. you keep this at the forefront of your mind.
"i did." you nodded.
"and you understand why you can't do that right now." he reasons with a calm tone he often uses on his dogs boys to keep them on a leash, to keep them from lashing out. "you got mugged the other day."
"that was an isolated incident." you state, shaking your head. "it's not going to dictate my life."
and neither will you. you refrain from saying that last bit.
he calls out your name. it's a warning. "we're trying to keep you safe."
"i understand that." you countered. and you want to spit in his face but you shove a carrot in your mouth instead, opting to crush it between your teeth. "but i'm not a pet to be kept on a leash."
his expression turns to stone. something in you tightens uncomfortably. poised to sprint, to run. you're poking the bear, you know it.
the air shifts. tides turning against you. suddenly, you truly understand Mr Hodge, truly understand the phrase 'surrounded by wolves'. slowly, one by one, you take in the subtle shift in each of them. all four gearing up to snap their teeth at you, to keep you pinned down if it comes to it and let the leader of the pack take the first bite.
you understand the gravity of your situation. that you shacked up with four dangerous individuals. men who have no qualms about pulling someone's teeth out of their gums or carving out a tongue. you don't know if ever they'd done that to someone but you don't put anything past them.
and you don't delude yourself into thinking that you'd never be on the receiving end of their wrath.
"i'd rather we not fight about this, love. i know it must be frustrating not to see your friends as much as you like." his placating tone only adds fuel to your fire. "but it's easier to keep you safe where can see you."
where we can see you. alarms ring. you narrow your eyes.
"easier to keep me safe or easier to control me?"
a knife clatters on the porcelin. "bonnie."
Gaz also attempts to place a bruised hand on top of yours, but you pull away. ignoring his silent plight entirely. the cut above his eyebrow pulls as his expression shifts.
"no, no— it's alright, boys." he raises a hand at them, a calm expression settling over his features as he looks at you. "darling, is that why you're upset? because you think we're keeping you caged?"
"i'm only calling out what i'm seeing." you state coldly, leaning back against your chair. "after all, i'm not unfamiliar with the bars of a golden cage."
the silence that follows is deafening. the Sergeants look at you in horror at the implication. Ghost looks like he's ready to throw the dinner plate across the room. Price remains unnervingly still, glowering at you.
"i am not your late husband." it's the coldest he's ever been to you.
and it feels like he's freezing the whole room over. blood roars to your ears faster than you can think and it almost makes you dizzy. the frantic beating of your heart tells you that you're risking too much, flying too high.
"none of us are." Ghost finally speaks up for the first time since he arrived. "we just want to keep you safe. we're not trying to imprison you."
sure doesn't feel like it.
"well," you start, "if i'm not a prisoner, then i guess i'm free to leave—"
"no." it's a sharp cut to your chest. your mouth snaps shut, eyes wide as his chair groans loudly when he suddenly stands. "you. stay. put. is that clear?"
there it is.
above Blair's voice, it's Price. and he's much louder.
you're losing my interest.
he holds your stare. unwaveringly so. unwilling to let you escape it. the cold turns to fractals turns to ice, frosting over your feet, keeping them stuck on the ground.
and that's very dangerous.
and you see it, him, for what he is. don't be difficult. far from the gentleman who opens the door for you and kisses your hand. don't be difficult. far from the bashful man who blushed at your mother's compliments. don't be difficult. far from John, who apologises for being too rough, for putting his hand on your neck, apologising for scaring you.
don't be difficult. don't be—
no. he's someone else. he's the man who stared down a frightened old man, asking if he should kill him for bringing him a shit deal. tell him you that the men who mugged you will get what's coming to them and it won't be pretty.
he's the man who put your husband in the ground. and he won't hesitate to do the same to you. so you lie down and surrender to his will. accepting whatever he says and accepting his demands, if only to live a second longer.
you grit your jaw, smiling through the strain in your teeth.
"crystal." it's sickly sweet, spoken with an edge as you dip your head in mock submission. "Captain."
your fork clutters loudly. Soap flinches at the noise, eyes wide as you catch his with your smile falling, revealing a dark expression as you stand up and walk away from the table.
later, when Price tries to open your door, he's not surprised to find it locked.
y'all really looked at the title and immediately assumed the worst? come on now😂 what do you take me for??🤭 also, can you tell that i'd been listening to Halsey and Sofia Isella while i was writing this?🙃
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