forum Mafia romance thing? (Closed) (rated M)

Started May 06, 2019 by @Dirt

tune

Karkota cursed and ran faster, as if that was possible. "No thank you!" He called back to her. Gosh it'd been a long time since he had to actually run for his life, to put it into terms.

Her long legs combined with her experience with running allowed her to quickly catch up. She launched herself on his back, using the momentum to roll them and get the advantage. With him beneath her, she twisted his arm behind his back and leaned forward. "Guess who just lost freedom privileges," she growled.

"Oh come on!" Karkota shouted angrily. "You don't even know what they want with me so just let me go!" He didn't even bother struggling. Instead he just stayed there, face first in the grass.

"You know I can't do that. No one disobeys in the Mafia. And if you do, you get your brains shot out. So I think I'll keep my head and deal with your insufferable ass." She hated every moment of this. All she was doing was keeping a prisoner–another slap in the face.

"I know that! do you think I'm stupid? Why do you think I wasn't keen on giving you any answers earlier when you where threatening me! I might be the heir but that doesn't mean they won't kill me!" He sounded desperate, almost pitiful.

"Yes, I think you're stupid. You ran." She didn't bother with arguing anymore. She just hauled him to his feet and forced him back inside the house, his arm still twisted behind him. She was done. Done talking. Done listening. Done playing nice. Done threatening. She just wanted to curl up in a cocoon of blankets and drink some hot chocolate while minding her own damn business.
While she owed them her life, they thought it fit to walk all over her. She wasn't some doormat that they could use however the hell they wanted. They wanted info? Fine. But she wouldn't be pulling teeth or clipping fingers. They wanted her to watch over their precious prisoner? Fine. But he'd have a room to himself with plenty of food and enough freedom so that he didn't go insane. Her rebellion might be a little petty and dangerous, she didn't care anymore. They wanted to mess with her?

Then they'll learn the hard way not to poke a sleeping lion.

"So what are you gonna do to me now? Call your buddies and send me back?" He didn't bother trying to pull away. At this point it'd be useless. "Gonna lock me in a room?" He was upset, even disappointed.

"No." That was all she was going to say. She shoved him into the house and locked the front door again. She fluffed out her hair with a hand, her nails digging into her scalp as she took in a deep breath. She unlocked the door. She relaxed a bit.

Karkota stuffed his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes at her. He really wanted to just go home.
Even if that home wasn't back with his mom in Hawaii.
He watched her carefully, half expecting her to pull out a knife and stab him. Heck he almost hopped she would. He'd rather die now then by his fathers hand. Something told him he wouldn't be as merciful.

"There's an extra bedroom upstairs next to mine. I suggest you take the offer now before I lock you in a closet for a week." Her threat was weak, her voice not bothering to muster the harshness required to make her sound serious. She was tired and hungry.

Karkota didn't bother responding, instead all he did was nod his head and make his way up the stairs. Any amount of joking around, long gone.
Finding the room she told him about, he collapsed on the bed. To tired to even bother taking off his shoes.

After a few minutes of digging through her cabinet solely dedicated to alcohol, she found a bottle that seemed to fit her mood and just chugged it. The doorbell rang and she set it on the counter, then answered the door. It was their food. She thanked the delivery boy and paid him–with a very generous tip–then closed the door again. She set the bags of food on the counter next to the bottle and started digging through it, occasionally eating a fry.

Karkota sighed and rolled over onto his back. He'd heard the door, but wasn't sure he was ready to face her again- or ever for that matter. He wondered if she'd break down the door if he locked it.

She found Karkota's meal and grabbed the bag it was in, heading upstairs. When she reached his door, she knocked her knuckles against the door. "I come bearing food," she said quietly. Slightly slurring. Possibly leaning against the doorframe for balance. Perhaps a tad drunk already.

Karkota slid off the bed and forced himself to go to the door. Opening it he saw her leaning on the wall. "Are you drunk?" He asked watching her carefully to make sure she didn't fall. Why did he care if she fell?

She scowled at him and handed him the bag. "Just a little tipsy–and I still have knives downstairs and am quite capable of stabbing you should you try and take advantage of my current condition. Here. Food. Be happy I didn't eat it."

"I'm not that kind of guy." He took the food, his stomach growing as he did. "Thanks." He awkwardly stood there for a few seconds. "Do you need help? Like ya know, getting back down stairs?"

Again, she scowled at him. "I'm fine." She pushed off the wall, catching her balance for a quick second, then meandered her way down the stairs. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the staircase railing.

Karkota tossed his food onto the bed and went after her, ready to catch her if needed. "When did you even drink? You know that's not very smart when you have a prisoner." He held out a hand to make sure she didn't fall. Though it'd be good for him if she fell, he could escape. But he didn't want to, je knew it'd get her in trouble, heck might even get her killed. And he'd feel awful if it was his fault.

She waved him off, flinging an arm towards him in a weak attempt to smack him away–she missed. "Like I said, I still have knives. And lamps. And photo albums. And a shitton of other stuff to throw at you." She didn't want his help, refused to believe it. She was a stubborn drunk. Well, she was more stubborn drunk than she was sober.

"I'm not trying to take advantage of you- hey stop trying to hit me. Can't I be a good person?" Karkota contiued trying to help, not being detured by her weak attempts at pushing him away.

"No. You can't. No one can." She sounded so certain–as if she truly thought that people had an ulterior motive. She did, as she had never had someone be nice to her without wanting something from her. Others didn't even bother with being nice.

"Well I can, so get over it." Karkota frowned at her. "Besides if you die that leaves me with a dead body and two mafias that might want to kill me."

"I won't die." She made it to the ground floor and, once again, attempted to shoo him away as she made her way over to the other bags of food. She grabbed one of the cookies and munched on it, shooting a glare at Karkota as she leaned against the counter.

Karkota stayed on the last step, watching her for a few seconds. "You probably shouldn't drink anymore tonight." With that he went back up stairs and closed the door again and sat on the bed.
He opened the bag of the food, inhaled happily and dug in.