#[his cockney accent just slipped in]
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Do you ever think about poor Nik, having learned English from textbooks and maybe some American media here and there and all that, suddenly being faced with Brits / specifically John Price, pronouncing things somewhat differeng and having all those British terms that Nik has never heard of. Why the fuck are Brits putting blankets on pigs and why is John asking him whether he's ever had that!!
The man knows eight (8) languages, so it's likely it's not even his second language, but his fourth or fifth. Mad intelligent, but yeah, you're so right.
I work with a few foreign nationals who have told me that, sometimes, speaking to me is like hearing English through a carnival mirror; the words are familiar, but what the hell do they mean in that order? It's usually when my brain has switched to Jack Mode out of professional mode, and I am absolutely not paying any attention.
I can imagine Price does the same. Same way that Johnny tones down his accent, I headcanon that Price toned down his Liverpudlian twang, but sometimes he'll absolutely slip up, and Nik'll hear him use "devoed", "clobber" and other weird phrases that he's pretty sure contain words that aren't in the Bible.
There's only one person who can understand Price when he goes Full Liverpool: Ghost, who goes Full Mancunian in response, and Nik's sitting there while they're...
P: Gonna jib this off, and go fer bevvy and scran on me bill, unless yer down, la?
G: Gaggin' fer a pint, but can't, 'm brassic, got reports to finish and that. Can I cadge a ciggy?
P: Naw, I've only got abar four bifters left, like.
G: Ah, yer dead snide, sir.
Nik, looking at Gaz for help, who is just smiling like the Cheshire Cat because he's packing cockney rhyming slang up his sleeve, so Nik better buckle the fuck up.
#captain john price#simon ghost riley#cod nikolai#nikprice#but also#ghostprice#cod#call of duty#although ghost's voice actor makes him sound like he's from London#he could be any bloke down my local#what the fuck go find a manc#ig american developers just threw a dart at a map
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Whiteman’s lounging with a whisky, looking comfortably casual in a pair of chinos and a t-shirt—blazer combination. He might be taken for any young, up-and-coming London professional out for a drink to celebrate the long weekend. Hillinghead, by contrast, looks like he should be at a wedding- the man’s in a three piece suit and the most complexly knotted tie she’s ever seen. Still, Shahara’s hardly going to judge him for feeling more comfortable completely covered up and the man is (she still can’t really wrap her head around this) a Victorian. He’s got a pint of beer in front of him, though it doesn’t look like he’s touched it.
She takes the first of the two empty seats at their table, her coke sloshing over the side of the glass as she sits, and remarks: “You two found your way around alright then?”
Whiteman sniffs sharply and half shrugs. “Fine. Nice to see the place not bombed to bits and rationing over.”
“It’s so- loud,” Hillinghead murmurs. “And crowded, and it smells-”
“It’s always smelled,” Whiteman interjects. “What, was it all roses in your time? I don’t believe that.”
“No,” Hillinghead stresses. “But it is- more.” he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Have you heard from-” He freezes, staring at something just over Whiteman’s shoulder. Shahara can read a shift in to flight-or-fight posture easily and from the way he’s suddenly more alert, Whiteman’s clocked that something’s got Hilinghead spooked as well.
“Problem?” he asks quietly, in his clipped, cockney accent; a half-strangled vowel slips from Hillinghead’s throat and Shahara turns to see what he’s looking at. There’s two men enjoying what’s clearly a date, holding hands and locking lips. Shahara sighs internally, bracing herself for a slew of Victorian attitudes- “Yeah,” she says, a little sarcastically- Hillinghead’s knuckles have gone white, he’s clenching his fist so hard. The gold of his wedding band stands stark against it. “That’s allowed, nowadays- we don’t care.”
“Hm?” Whiteman glances around- there’s a moment where Shahara thinks she’s gonna have to deal with 1940s attitudes as well, but Whiteman turns back, uninterested. “Fair enough.” he starts patting himself down, like he’s looking for something in his pockets.
“They can-” Hillinghead murmurs. “I could…” He swipes for the beer and downs a quarter of the pint in one. Now Whiteman looks interested, he pauses his search, leans right forward and says, smirking, “Detective Inspector Hillinghead. Do you have a fancy man?”
Hillinghead sputters and brings down the glass. “Are you twelve?” he demands, something of the outraged parent seeping into his tone as– he’s blushing, Shahara realises. He’s actually blushing.
“Are you-?” She asks, leaning forward, and she knows it’s rude and none of her business, but still. “Are you gay?” The wedding ring. “Bi?”she suggests, as a follow up, and then: “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I- what? I-” he looks back at the couple, then grabs his beer again. “I have- I have a- I have Henry,” he downs more of the beer. “It-it would be nice, to- to not…” he trails off, his eyes drifting away from both of them.
“See, I’ve always been a bachelor- a bachelor bachelor, not a confirmed bachelor, myself, but I - fuck, I left my cigars and my lighter in the other jacket-”
“Language,” Hilinghead reprimands at the same time as Shahara says: “You can’t smoke in here anyway.”
Whiteman drops his elbow to the table and points at her. “You what?”
“No smoking in public places, it’s banned.”
Whiteman flops back in his seat and grabs for his whisky. “The future is bollocks.” he drains the glass and slams it down. “Good whisky though. So. While we wait for Maplewood to join us….Hillinghead can kiss blokes, and I can’t smoke in a pub. What else should we know about this 2023, then…?”
#bodies netflix#shahara hasan#alfred hillinghead#did i make a shitpost chatlog and then write a quick fic based on that? Yes yes i did. anyway#enjoy#Charles Whiteman
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yandere ghost headcannons please!
okok to be honest I rarely imagine ghost to be a yandere,, his past was so hard and he most likely has the same fear of repeating the same mistakes of his father !! (plus I want him 2 get the love he deserves) BUT WHEN I CAN IMAGINE HIM AS A YANDERE … chomp munch crunch very very good food
yan!simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader hcs !!
notes: mentions of trauma (ghost), descriptions of violence, obsession, gn! reader, mostly unedited (bear with me ill actually proofread one day maybe) (684 words)
I do feel like a lot of ghost's more yandere mannerisms would be due to his childhood. He'd never had the chance to be truly innocent, from his abusive father to the cartel that had mercilessly killed the rest of his family, the countless teammates that he had lost, there was always some form of blood on his hands. Years of distrust festered into seething, buried hatred for the amount of ugliness in this world. Burying himself in the only good he could trust in; the suffocating cigarette stained air of Captain Price, the familiar tone of the rugged Scottish accent that came from Soap, Gaz's charming smile.
So when he first meets you, so much more docile and harmless and friendly, never faced with the adversities that Simon had seen in the world, he silently slips your name into his head, keeping that precious string of words in the darkest- yet safest- parts of his brain. You were the light in his eyes that he had lost at an age so young, your presence arranging the constant static and ringing in his ears into a pleasant hum.
You never judge him when he flinches at the hiss of a snake, never belittle him for constantly wearing that cloth mask that concealed half of his face. He avoids it at first, how he relaxes whenever he sees you in the room, how he smiles beneath that mask when you wave at him.
He truly wants to believe it’s just some childish crush, a form of love that could only be protected for a matter of months.. That you were some odd fantasy he had developed due to the plethoras of trauma he had faced.
But once you have him wrapped around your finger, once you somehow manage to break down the walls that he'd been suffocating in; he'll do anything for you. Cut out his tongue just to see you smile. Tear out his voice box just to your sweet rambles.
he’s part of the sas; a man who was trained to kill without mercy, shown the tragedies of the world since he was a child. he has no issue dealing with anyone he thinks is bad for you. hell, ghost would protect you from just about anything- he’d do anything, lose anything, to protect you from the world he lived in. the violence he saw.
He thinks he knows what's best for you. Despises those jaded and ungrateful friends you have, how they never even reciprocated any of the care and support you gave. And that boyfriend you had- his sleazy grin and grubby hands all over you- christ, he swears he'll carve out that man's organs once he gets the opportunity.
and that’s when he decides he can’t let you keep mixing with those vermin, endangering yourself without even noticing. of course he believes you deserve far better than him- an eden so much different from the bloodshed and tragedy of this world, where everything was just as wonderful and lovely as you were. But he was the best option to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he didn’t care how far he had to go due to it- he'd risk his career, his life, everything for you.
The method didn’t matter. Whether he convinced you with smooth words and empty promises or ripped out his intestines to chain you to his side, he was going to make sure that you were safe. That you were his.
So you wake up one day, wrists and ankles bound suffocatingly with rope, the coarse hairs stinging at you skin as you struggle to free yourself from the bedpost you were tied to. You can feel your heart twist in horror as you hear that familiar rough cockney accent.
“sorry if I tied those ropes too tight,” it smells like ivory, blood. the brown eyes the ones that you had made a home in for the past year you spent with each other stared down at you. That wasn’t simon. That wasn’t simon. That was ghost. “just needed you keep you safe, love.”
#୧ ‧₊˚ 📧 ⋅#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw3#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost fanfiction#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod headcanons#cod hcs#call of duty headcanons#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere cod#yandere ghost#yandere simon riley#yandere call of duty#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines
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“Technical Difficulties” - [Steven Grant x Reader]
WARNINGS: fluff, single use of profanity
CHARACTERS: Steven Grant (Moonknight; MARVEL)
🌙 .*.. ☎️
Your eyes flitted over the open book in your lap, a soft yawn leaving your plump lips as you flipped one of the yellowing pages, your eyes droopy with exhaustion (and possibly a hint of boredom).
Lulling your head back into the large leather couch, your eyes hazenly scanned the large studio apartment, analyzing what a mess it really was.
A cozy, almost welcoming mess, but a mess nonetheless.
You stood, stretching with a slight groan as your back popped, and you tossed the old, hardcover book on the messy coffee table by your calves height, your eyes scanning the papers that littered the surface, analyzing the Egyptian studies and documents for only a moment, before you tore your gaze away from the “fascinating hieroglyphs”.
A soft, oh-so-sweet accent rang through the flat, drawing your gaze through the seemingly endless bookshelves.
Steven.
The strong cockney accent had you walking through the maze, your fingers dragging along the spines of the old, once-read books on each shelf, rounding a corner to be greeted by the adorable sight of none other than your loving boyfriend, Steven Grant, hunched over his brand new phone.
Paper manuals splayed out over the already cluttered wooden desk in a frantic splash of white and black text, illuminated by a small desk-lamp as you raised your eyebrows in amusement.
A small pair of “grandma glasses” hung precariously close to the tip of his nose, slipping lower before he would mumble a complaint under his breath and push them back up with a sigh.
“Did you call for me, baby?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes with a soft yawn, before running your hands through your hair, undoing any knots.
“Ah- there’s my beautiful darling!”
He immediately seemed a pound lighter when his posture straightened up from the device in his hand, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a smile of simple relief on his chapped lips.
“Were you sleeping, love?” He quickly questioned, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of your sleepy gaze on him, but smiled and nodded when you shook your head negatively.
“No. Was just bored- i was reading one of your books and just could not find any interest in the concept of worshipping cats,”
He chuckled, faking a face of offense at your distaste in such an interesting matter.
Well, to him anyway.
You wandered to his side, elbows first on the desk, ignoring the stacked papers as your eyes curiously draped over the phone in his hand, noticing how it still was flashing the bright white greeting screen, the word “hello” in different languages flashing slowly over the screen like some sophomore’s lazy slideshow presentation.
“I uh- well, I’ll admit i’m still not fond of your begging me to get a new phone,”
He chuckled out almost bashfully, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his crooked, tanned nose once again.
“I cant figure this bloody thing out, love.”
You smiled down at the device, tilting your head in your hand, a small laugh passing your freckled lips.
“I did not beg. I simply…asked. It’s 2025, Steven. You couldn’t keep using that damn flip phone.”
Steven scoffed, a small, playful frown on his face as he cocked his head oh-so-cutely to the side, scrunching his nose at the fact that you were probably right.
You always were, though.
He smiled, nudging your shoulder with his own playfully, scooting back out of the desk’s main area in the rolling office chair.
“I’m just askin’ for sum help, darling,”
He smiled lovingly up at you, like you were the most angelic being out there. Like he was so hopelessly in love with you.
How true that really was, you couldn’t imagine.
Sighing, you gingerly took the phone out of his hand and began the basic set up, casually pointing at buttons and certain things he should remember in terms of having a smartphone, like where the flashlight ability was, etc.
“Alright, you need a password. Something that’ll keep your phone locked, until you wanna use it.”
His eyebrows curiously knitted together, as if that was the silliest thing in the world.
“A…a passcode? Ooo, it’s like a riddle every time i want to contact you! Well- except ill already know the answer every time-”
Your heart swelled with a small huff, his innocence too much for your corrupted thoughts as you laughed.
“Uh- yeah. Like a riddle. So….?”
He pursed his lips for a moment, scratching at his black curls that were messily unstyled and stuck to his forehead.
“Make it…make it your birthday, yeah? That way I’ll never forget, and you’ll always be able to get onnit.”
He looked up at you, his hands reaching out for your hips, drawing you to his seated form, letting you stand between his thighs with a soft smile, one that absolutely melted you, and you couldn’t resist.
“…my birthday?”
He nodded eagerly, rubbing mindless circles into your hips through your loose trousers, shrugging.
“Would you rather it be our anniversary date-?”
God how dearly you loved this man.
“No, no- i just-”
He leaned closer to you, leaning into your stomach as he buried his head into your tummy, nestling his forehead there.
“I don’t deserve you, Steven.”
The man guffawed, and playfully smacked the back of your thighs with a small huff, chuckling into your tummy.
“Now why would you ever say such a thing? Course you deserve me, love. you deserve the whole bloody universe, really,” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair with a puff of acceptance, shrugging, before moving your attention back to his phone, typing away at his contacts, which consisted of, well, no one.
“i’ll add my number in, yeah? you want anyone else in here yet? Donna, maybe?”
The woman’s name brought forth a shudder from the man snuggling against you earning a bark of laughter from your glossy lips.
“alright, i’ll take that as a ‘no’.”
Pressing a few numbers, you inputted your number into his contacts, labeling it with the simple first letter of your name, and a brown heart emoji.
You cheekily pinned yourself to the top of his chat thread, but didn’t bother to tell him how you did it, or how to undo it.
“alright, you’re all set up, sweet boy,” you purred out, tugging softly on some of his curls, the raven strands of hair that stuck to his forehead being swiped away by your fingers gingerly.
“i’m probably gonna take a nap, if that’s okay? might steal your bed- that couch is awful for my back-”
He nodded, his lips brushing over the skin above your pant line, where his fingers had rested over your belly button under your blouse, curiously tracing the soft, speckled skin and stretch marks around your hips.
“y-yeah, that’s alright love. i’m gonna finish this tour outline and then i’ll join.” He smiled up at you, shifting so his chin rested on the plush of your abdomen, a lazy smile tugging at his face when you pulled the magenta glasses off his crooked nose.
“handsome chap.”
“pretty gal.”
You both chuckled at each other’s words, before you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away with a soft grumble of a ‘mm’ from his chapped lips, and he scooted back into the large pine desk with a soft, overworked sigh.
“don’t be too long, okay? ‘s cold without you in bed,” You mumbled, wandering further and further away from him in open space of his flat, to the sand ring round his bed, where you kicked off your house shoes and socks, and climbed into his crisp sheets with a soft sigh, smiling at his ‘won’t be much longer!’ from across the room.
Your eyes fluttered shut when your nose inhaled his scent on one of his many pillows, a content groan leaving your lips as you laid on your side, yawning.
Sleep welcomed you more warmly with the knowledge that Steven had an easier way to contact you.
…
And it was a plus that he had a picture feature now.
…
you were definitely going to abuse that opportunity.
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x gender neutral reader#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#mcu fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu imagine#marvel fanfiction#moon knight system#layla el faouly#khonshu#dissociative identity disorder#complex dissociative disorder#dissociative system#dissociation#actually dissociative#did system#osdd system#osddid#did osdd#did you know#did alter
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Hey, question, you know how GRRM is american but all of the dialogue in ASOIAF, aside from being old-fangled, is also supposed to be vaguely "british"? Like, everyone kind of is supposed to have those old english royalty accents and shit, all the northerners say "aye", etc. What's that like to you, an actual UK person?
it’s a weird one lol bc in some ways he leans into it and others he leans right out. I get the impression GRRM has watched a lot of British TV and so his ‘small folk’ dialect isn’t really that different (imo) from the staple working class dialect ascribed to characters in many British period pieces - which kind of sounds to me like an anaemic cockney or something, without the slang and quirks. on British TV it’s been the case for the longest time that for class reasons most of what you’re going to hear is broadly RP and you’d have to tune into specific shows to hear much else (that’s not as bad as it used to be but the impact is still pretty real).
anyway all of that to say, if that’s GRRM’s point of reference I don’t think he does a bad job with it?? it’s a shallow distinction between his smallfolk and his highborn, but w/e - it’s used about as effectively as it’s used in say, Downton Abbey lol. i.e. quite caricature-y but no more so than brits themselves are guilty of. I don’t really notice Americanisms slipping in and the only one he seems to fumble (afaik) is ‘aye’ which he occasionally has southern characters like the Lannisters use. and maybe southern brits did use ‘aye’ once but for a long time that’s been heavily associated w northerners/scotland/etc.
and also I know he isn’t actually trying to write AU UK here, Westeros is influenced by the histories of many different IRL countries and cultures, but it’s obvious that it very substantially draws on GRRM’s consumption of British media and culture in its depiction and so I do think based on that he could’ve had a bit more fun w the regional dialects. I know he doesn’t have to, he’s got enough on his hands and frankly there’s so much scope for fucking that up, but I think as bidonica said in a recent post, it’s kind of wild that across the entire continent of Westeros… the highborn and lowborn dialects are each the same. like suffice to say that is extremely not the case in the UK and was not the case even more historically speaking. my mum is northern and my dad came from a central London cockney neighbourhood and the words and phrases the other used to use would send them constantly.
so it’d be fun if there were variations between regions, and those wouldn’t even have to be based on any real British equivalent if GRRM were worried about getting it wrong. definitely amongst the smallfolk anyway, bc whilst I think at least in modern history the richest folk in the UK largely adopted the same upper class accent, that wasn’t the case for anyone else. the UK is about the size of a coin and yet comprises hundreds of different accents and languages. personally think it could be fun if he had played w that but he didn’t. idk if that’s bc he just cba or if as an American he basically just knows the queen’s english and the ‘it’s choosday’ accent but w/e.
anyway GOT is way funnier about this bc obviously their actors are all speaking in British accents so the comparisons and questions are inevitable and they are MANY. explain why davos and gendry, who come from precisely the same part of town, are speaking accents from diametrically opposite ends of the UK. why are Robert and Stannis speaking w northern accents and Renly w southern. two of Cersei’s children are distinctly northern Irish. it’s wild from head to toe but I can’t be mad it IS funny
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Hobie brown and young troubled teen reader who acts like an adult.
(I probably should not have listened to mitski while writing this)
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, underage drinking, smoking, and reader not acting their age, readers parents suck so much ass. Reader also not caring if they get hurt or not.
GN reader
(Me projecting a little)
You were so motivated as a child to become something great for your self, however the family you have grown up around shattered that slowly. you got older and you watched how your parents handled their problems some included drinking, some smoking, and some were just dropping you off at your grandparents house. Since you were the youngest they slowly stopped being parents and by you were 13 they really only felt like roommates.
They didn’t even care when you came home late, didn’t care that you would disappear at hours of the night and never seem to notice the way you slowly stopped doing all the little childish things you did and slowly started taking interest in more adult things. They didn’t even notice how the beers in the box under the table were slowly missing as they had no clue you were in your room chugging down a couple as you held a spider man mask in the other hand. As your eyes dimly lit by the light outside the window of the night sky, you knew that any “innocence” was slipping and all you could do was watch it melt away as you nursed the rim of the beer bottle to your lips and you downed another gulp.
The nasty taste causing you to shut your eyes and scrunch your face up as you shook your head. You had drank two before hand, why was the taste not going away and why did each taste worse then the one before? When you finished the bottle you threw it under your bed for the night until in the morning. As you got comfortable the watch on your arm tingled and you groaned softly as it’s Miguel sending you another message saying that you and Hobie were going on a mission.
With a heavy sigh and small curses leaving your mouth you got into your spider suit and grabbed your mask as you locked your door before seeing the orange portal appear in front of you and so with a few stumbling steps you walk in it. When you got to the spider society Miguel and hobie stood there, you looked at Hobie and prayed he wouldn’t be able to smell the alcohol on you. As you walked over to him and he gave you a small smile as you gave him a nod.
“Hey it’s been a bit huh mate?” He asked with a chuckle, his cockney accent strong as you and him swung through the streets of his universe. You could barely answer as the alcohol was really having an effect on your small mind as you landed and ended up stumbling into a wall slightly. “You ok-“ “I’m fine.” You cut him off with a growl and he seemed surprised as you stormed past him as you shot a web into the air again and looked around for the anomaly you guys needed to catch. As he swung behind you you felt dizzy, you really shouldn’t have drank 3 beers when you’re not old enough to take it well huh?
This landing was worse then the other one as you full on stumbled forward and hit the ground and Hobie immediately landed beside you. “Mate, what’s going on?” He asked more seriously as he held your arm slightly, not too hard to hurt you but enough to keep you there. “Nothing is wrong hobie I’m just tired”. You lie and then he sniffs the air, shit. “Y/n, you drunk?” He asked as he looked down at you. “…what if I am it’s none of your business, it’s no one’s business but mine.” You replied as you yanked your arm out of his grasp.
“It’s just that you’re a little young-“ “so fucking what?” You cut him off again as you glared at him under your mask. “It’s not good for you.” He said seriously concerned for you, he honestly saw you as a little sibling so he wanted to make sure that you weren’t out there dying or anything. “It’s not good for me?” A dry laugh escaped your mouth as you peel your mask off and look up at him. “I don’t care what’s good for me and what’s not it’s my decision not yours”. God why were you so stubborn? “Y/n, if you don’t stop you’re gonna die at a young age”.
He says trying as he looks into your eyes with a soft but stern look in them. “So what if I die it’s not like I’m missing out in anything.” You replied with venom before walking around and “patrolling” when you just grabbed another beer that you found from some shady guy in an alley way while Hobie looks for the anomaly. You were a feind for anything to hurt you as you chug the beer down and soon return to Hobie and about 5 minutes later you’re sobbing in an alley way, you’re at the stage where all you can think about while drunk is how much of “a fucked up child” you are and how you wished you didn’t do this.
“Y/n, you gotta stop-“ this time he cut him self off as he turned a corner the annoyed expression he had with you leaving and abandoning him immediately softened as he saw you in the corner of the alley sobbing. You looked like a small child who had just gotten their toy taken away as he approached you softly and kneeled. “Hobie what’s wrong with me, why can’t I act my age why can’t I be normal and not smoke weed and drink to feel something?” You asked inbetween sobs as he slowly hugged you holding you like a small child as he just sat there with you. “Because you were forced to grow up to fast.” He spoke softly rubbing your back and you held him back as you felt pathetic, crying in his arms a second time.
He didn’t seem to mind as he held you and rocked you slowly and softly, he just sat there with you until you felt better and when you stopped sobbing he helped you off the cold alley way ground and you two continued the mission and soon headed to his camp boat that he’s made his home and you got comfortable on the couch and ended up sleeping there for the night. He ended up placing a blanket on you softly so you wouldn’t be cold, in this moment you just laid there safe from everything and for once you didn’t feel like an adult stick in a kids body but you felt like a 13 year old for once being taken care of by their “older brother”.
(I dont like this one as much as I did the hcs tbh)
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cowboy like me
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: As a part-time criminal and a full-time escape artist your first priority was always to keep people at arm's length. When you meet someone who also knows what it's like to live from day to day, you're not so sure you want to let her slip away.
Foreword: Title taken from the Taylor Swift song cause it’s evermore season y’all
The first time you met the Black Widow was aboard a train heading south toward London.
You sat, facing the window and watching the people mill about the terminal outside. Your cheeks were still red and wind bitten from your commute to the station. The car was almost full now, most everyone dressed in Manchester United jerseys and hats and the like. You blended in just fine among them. Another fan headed home after the match with a scarf and an old pair of trainers.
You rehashed the details of your current mark in your head like a mantra. Jameson Harris. 42 Malcolm Rd. Wife was Anna Harris. Two children, Marcus and Emily.
“All aboard. The 5:00 train from Manchester to London is off in three minutes,” the conductor announced from a speaker overhead. You could barely hear it over the excitement of the crowd. A little boy ran screaming down the aisle, his mother giving a futile chase.
In the set of seats facing you two men about your age sat down. They were clearly drunk, laughing like hyenas and shoving each other in a manner that bordered on real anger. At least one of them smelled like heavy smoke.
“Hey, mate,” the tall, lanky one with a bad neck tattoo waved at you. “How about that game, eh?”
You grinned widely as if you had one too many drinks coursing through your veins. “Fucking wild.” You stumbled over the words as if your tongue didn’t sit correctly in your mouth. “Best match of the season, if you ask me.”
The other guy, fitter and dark-haired took out a lighter and a cigarette. He lit it and pulled a huge drag. The exhaled smoke blew right into the face of a passing attendant.
She coughed stiffly into her hand. “Sir, there is no smoking allowed onboard. I am going to have to ask you to step out or please put it out.”
“Are you talking to me, sweetheart?” You averted your gaze, scrolling mindlessly through the contacts in your phone. If the woman was looking for a hero, you were a false beacon of hope.
“Yes. Now, please. There is truly no smoking allowed in the car.” The acrid stench of nicotine once more assaulted everyone misfortunate enough to be in the general vicinity.
The man took a deep breath and stood. Elaborately he stubbed the cigarette out on the back of his seat, little bits of ash flaking into the air. The attendant moved on and he dropped back into the chair. “Fucking cunt,” he swore loud enough to cut through the din.
You closed your eyes to shut out the cloudy winter light intent on piercing your retinas and the jerky movements of the other passengers, high off the energy from the match. You swore you would take a break after this job. You had made that exact same promise to yourself last week in Bogota, and the time before in Cairo. No, you wouldn’t stop. Just as relentless as the blood rushing through your veins, stopping would be tantamount to death.
“Excuse me.” A voice caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. Innocence dripped from the words like honey, and you could tell the woman’s voice was pitched up from her normal tone. “Is anyone sitting here?” A slender hand gestured at the seat next to yours.
You pushed yourself up from the slouch you had been lounging in, feeling self-conscious. “No. Go right ahead,” you answered, cockney accent shining right through. She was pretty, you noted; about your age as well. A hitch tugged at the back of your brain. An evolutionary alarm from living your entire life on the move. This woman was not to be trusted. Underneath the wide eyes and the girlish smile was a viper coiled to strike.
“Thank you,” she said, looking quite small against the backdrop of the raucous train car.
A wolf whistle pierced the air, looking for trouble. The bloke who had been smoking flashed a predator’s grin at the blonde beside you. “Where are you traveling to all alone now, girlie?”
You watched the exchange from the corner of your eye. Why did conflict seem to follow wherever you stepped foot? The woman merely glanced up from her book, unwilling to feed the fire.
“Oi. Why don’t you go ahead and look at me when I’m talking to you? I know you can hear me.” The train had begun to depart, ushering in a wave of quiet to the car as passengers settled down. The demand was impossible to ignore. Even as parents hushed children and drunkards passed out in increasing numbers, his voice only gained intensity.
“This train is headed for London, is it not?” She asked, face as innocent as a blank sheet of paper.
“Hey Jack. She’s a witty one,” he said, slapping his friend on the chest. The woman flicked her gaze at you. Your attention wandered to her like a moth to a flame. You stomped down on any inclination to help her. You weren’t going to lose this game of chicken.
“Sweetheart.” The man so called Jack joined in the instigating. “How about you come home with us, eh? I’ve got a real nice flat. I bet you’d like the bedroom.”
“No, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me to the bathroom right now?” The dark-haired one surged forward, grimy hand outstretched toward the woman. Caution gone with the wind, your arm darted out on its own accord. You intercepted his wrist, tugging harshly enough for him to stumble closer to you.
The blonde’s eyes widened and she shrank in on herself in her seat. You saw right through the act. An elderly man with a newsboy cap across the aisle watched the altercation like a deer caught in headlights. You prayed he wouldn’t call for help.
The entire damn point was to not draw attention to yourself. Today though, electricity charged the air with biting energy. The presence of the mystery-shrouded person beside you drove you past the gates of reason.
You squeezed the man’s pinky until you heard the crunch of bone pushed too far. He screeched like a cat. “Go and find yourself another seat. I don’t care if the car is full. You’ll throw yourself out the rear if you have to. Don’t let me see your fucking face again,” you whispered in his ear. The words leapt flaming from your tongue.
Eyes wild with adrenaline and the courage of alcohol, he swung at you with his free fist. You caught the clumsy punch, seized the man by the wrist, and snapped it clean. He screamed, turning the heads of the other passengers. Your gaze swept like a searchlight through the crowd, promising more hurt to anyone who might even think about interfering.
He crashed back into his friend’s lap before staggering to his feet. His sniffles and shuffling footsteps echoed through the silent traincar. “Go on,” you directed his buddy, who wasted no time before similarly scrambling from his seat. A final burst of dauntlessness flared up your throat. “What the fuck are you all staring at me for?” You broadcasted to the intrigued onlookers.
Half of these people weren’t sober enough to remember this in the morning. For those who did, you would be a completely different person the second you stepped foot off this godforsaken vehicle.
“Thank you,” the woman said, sickly sweet.
“Don’t mention it.” You admitted beating up assholes wasn’t an entirely cumbersome task.
“I feel obliged now to ask what your name is,” she continued.
You raised your eyebrows, turning in her direction. “What about stranger danger? How do you know I didn’t just stop them so I could be alone with you?”
“How do you know I needed your help?” She batted the question back at you.
“Touche.” You knew she didn’t. But she had indeed wanted to keep her cards close to her chest at the expense of you revealing yours. You offered a hand. “I’m Sam.”
“Nadia,” she replied, conceding the handshake. Her palms and fingers were lined with ridges of calluses.
“That’s a pretty name.” But not one that belonged to her, you thought.
She was so close now. The setting sunlight streamed through the window and coaxed the vibrance from the green of her irises. You stopped yourself from lingering there too long. You imagined all the people who had lost to her siren’s call before.
You cleared your throat and broke off the staring match. “Can I ask what you’re doing in England? Excuse me assuming that you’re not from around here.” If she wanted to play this game, you didn’t see the harm in joining in.
“I’m visiting a friend.” Her American accent drew attention. Odd for a thief or a spy or whoever she was to forgo language assimilation. “What about you, Sam? Did you grow up here?”
“I did. Never been out of the country meself.” Lies to you, but truths for Sam the football fan.
“Got anyone special at home?” She smirked, looking up at you from a downturned face.
You scoffed. She was messing with you. “No. Not for me. I like to keep available. You never know when an opportunity might come around. I’m not usually one to let a good thing pass me by.”
“And what makes a special opportunity? How do you know one when you see it?” How fitting that smoke still lingered in the air.
“I guess,” you started slowly. “Some people just have this spark about them.”
She wet her lips. “Do you think I have it?” If some people sparked with electricity, she certainly blazed with the sun’s heat.
The corner of your mouth lifted in a smile. You rolled your eyes with playful mirth. That was all the answer she needed.
Good thing as soon as the train pulled into the station in London you would get your ass as far away from her as possible. And with any luck, as the moon eclipses the sun your paths would cease to cross for a very long time.
—
Prime Minister Jameson Harris had an expensive taste in liquor. You were alone in his house, save for a half dozen security agents scattered about various entryways. Tonight you doubled as the man himself while he and his family had been whisked away to another secure location. You owed a friend in MI6 a favor, so you played the sitting duck amidst rumors of an assassination plot. Just another average night.
You snagged a crystal bottle of mystery alcohol from the shelf. Twisting the cork off with a pop you smelled it experimentally before taking a swig straight from the jug. Mister Harris had a fine taste in whiskey indeed. You rounded a giant mahogany table and sat, polished leather squeaking in protest.
The study lights weren’t overwhelming thanks to the dimmers you had spent way too long fiddling with. In addition you had lit a couple of candles. The room had smelled too much like mothballs and stale paper for your taste.
You raised the whiskey bottle in a toast to an imaginary gathering. “Long live the United Kingdom. To the prosperity of humankind. May all mutant scum drop dead,” you pronounced with the fanfare of a juvenile king. No one had stuck around to tell you your birthday, but you still had a good year or two before you were of drinking age. That much at least, you knew.
You didn’t follow politics, not keen on allying yourself with a particular nation, but the anti-mutant sentiment reached you anyhow. Hate and fear for you and your kind served as a rallying point for human leaders. They ceased pointing their guns at each other and instead set their targets on you.
Bottle in hand, you stood abruptly and turned toward the giant bookshelf behind you. Classic novels, history collections, and political theory publications lined the entire wall. You traced your fingers down their spines. You had to stay the night here, but thought it may be wiser to resist the call of sleep lest you don’t wake in the morning.
You pulled a relatively thin volume down. Between the stealing and fleeing and occasional strong-arming you didn’t have a lot of time to read. Tonight, you could start playing catch up with The Scarlet Letter.
You meandered back toward the desk. Glancing up, a cool breeze rushed at you from an open window. Your stomach dropped, heavy with an iron pit. The curtains flapped in the wind, taunting you for letting your guard down.
You set the whiskey and the book down on the desk and instead wrapped your hand around the slick steel of a pistol hidden beneath. “Show yourself,” you called in the voice of Jameson Harris. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you for breaking and entering.”
The study was by no means cramped for room, but even still there were few places to hide. You cleared the room in less than a second before realizing the door was ajar too.
You stalked out into the hall, only to find a guard passed out on the floor. You dug your fingers into your temple. Someone was clearly amusing themselves with the game they were playing. Even so, a chill ran down your spine. You weren’t used to being the rat in the maze in these situations.
Outside the study, the rest of the house was blanketed in darkness. For you, the absence of light made no difference. You could see just fine with the barest hint of sunshine. From above the bannister, you peered down the sight of the gun at the foyer. The ground floor lay still, as if holding its breath. The security guard posted at the front door sat slumped against the wall. You couldn’t tell if the dark spot pooling beneath his body was born of shadow or something much more sinister.
A cold hand on your shoulder jolted you from your search. Before you could turn around, meticulously sharpened steel carved a grinning line across your throat. You clamped a hand around the wound, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped canary. From the corner of your warping vision you saw a figure, wrapped in a shawl of shadows. The light from their eyes waited eagerly for the one in yours to wink out.
You stumbled, choking on your own blood. Pink froth bubbled from your mouth, burning with the chase of death. Your attention slipped and you shifted from the body of Jameson Harris and back into yourself. Well, almost. What you imagined you might look like without the lizard eyes and cobalt blue skin of a freak.
Beneath your palm your skin grew unnaturally warm. The waterfall of blood ceased its torrential flow. Slowly your skin sewed itself back together. You sighed in relief. You knew you could heal, but had never tested your powers to this extreme.
Behind you a voice muttered in Russian, “What the fuck?”
You stood straight up, flicking blood absentmindedly from your hand. Surprise gripped your heart. Standing in the corner, as still as a statue was the girl from the train that had brought you here. Nadia no longer looked the picturesque part of a wonderstruck American teenager visiting London. Blonde hair, that you now decided had definitely been dyed, lay neatly down her back in an intricate braid. She wore a black form-fitting tactical suit. Not military issued, you thought.
You blinked and found yourself staring down the muzzle of a pistol. You raised your hands in surrender, assuming the form you had been posing as on the train. A familiar rush raced from the top of your head to the ends of your limbs as your skin reformed itself. “Remember me?” You asked, spitting out a glob of blood and exposing red-stained teeth.
She cocked her head ever so slightly and just a moment of opportunity presented itself. You lunged for the gun while she grappled with the fact you’d been three completely different people in less than a minute. You let yourself shift back to your common appearance and vaulted across the floor. Muscles wound tight, you straightened your torso and kicked at the weapon.
Snapping back to reality she snatched the gun away just in time. You stood before she could re-aim and cut at her wrist. The gun clattered to the floor and you kicked it further down the hall.
You craned your head to avoid a viscous elbow to the nose. Sweat began to build along your hairline and drip down the back of your neck. You didn’t fight often, preferring to run into the foliage rather than confront the enemy and run the risk of being caught. You missed the rush.
She fought like a dancer. Momentum built from a lunge forward charged a stinging jab at your ribs. You pushed her two steps back and she went for a low sweep at your legs. You moved so fast you could hear the rush of cloth through the air, the sound of a fist soaring at your gut. A knife appeared in her hand, opening a surgical gash along the length of your tricep.
Hot blood ran down your arm. You weren’t sure what the limit of your healing factor was, but as the cut refused to close, you realized you might have spent it for tonight.
Your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t lose, no doubt that if she caught you she wouldn’t hesitate to snap your neck and unload an entire round into your head, just in case. But you had to think five steps ahead even as a boot came flying hairwidths from your face and lightning fast slashes struck at any spot you left unprotected.
She flipped herself and suddenly you were flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. You pulled air back into your spent lungs, gasping as your fingers dug into the floorboards. From the corner of your vision you saw her bolt for the discarded gun. Panic flared through you and you sprung yourself up, tackling her off course.
The both of you crashed through the bannister and went soaring onto the ground floor. She managed to maneuver herself midair so that she would land on top of you. The impact shot up the knobs of your spine, your head whipping painfully against the cool floor. Her shoulder dug into your collarbone, breaths coming in steady little exhales. You lost your focus for a split second, the pain radiating from the back of your skull overwhelming everything else.
Involuntarily you transformed into your natural appearance, attention split in so many ways you couldn’t hold onto maintaining your looks. You grit your teeth and shoved the woman off of you with all the strength you could muster, which admittedly beat the strongest of humans even on your worst days. She flew back and smashed into a side table, residing lamp tumbling down and shattering on the floor.
You hurdled over the staircase railing at the halfway point and cleared the rest of the steps in one bound. You normalized your complexion, hoping the dark had shielded you from her seeing the momentary exposure.
You scooped a gun up from the ground and whipped around, catching her at the top of the staircase. Strangling the grip, you tensed the muscles in your forearms and leveled it at her chest.
“Where’s Harris?” She asked, voice as harsh as the blade caught in her fist, still drip, drip, dripping with your blood.
���A safe place. Somewhere far away from pretty women with sharp objects.” Your pointer finger ghosted over the trigger. A voice in the back of your mind urged you to pull it. Return the favor.
She arched one eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re good.” You’d never tell her, but even with your enhanced strength and agility she’d had you on the ropes the entire fight. If you had so much as breathed differently you were sure the roles would be reversed right now.
“But not good enough for you,” she finished. Even as she bowed completely at your mercy her expression gave nothing away. A long time ago, you thought, she sculpted her face from marble, and the mask had been cemented in place since.
You lowered the gun. You weren’t a killer anyhow.
Blood crusted under your fingernails and in the lines of your palms, your shirt was starting to stick to your skin. You slid it over your head and tossed it on the floor, well aware of the woman’s lingering gaze.
You turned your back on her and strode into the bedroom, stealing a new shirt before locking yourself in the bathroom.
With a sigh you stopped holding a normal appearance and shifted back into your innate form. Staying in shape had become easier as you’d grown and fully navigated your powers but the process still ate up much of your concentration. Exhaustion slogged endlessly at your mind.
You eyed your arm which had thankfully stopped actively bleeding, but the flesh still gaped open in a deep red valley. You pulled all the cabinets open, coming up with a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Catching your lip between your teeth you washed the stinging wound, a hiss escaping as you flushed it out. You wrapped the bandage tight around your arm, ripping the extra with your teeth.
Methodically you cleaned yourself up. Filling your mouth with cold water from the tap, the sour coppery taste flushed away from your tongue. Then you scrubbed at your face, neck, and chest, trying hard to ignore the blue ridged flesh of an aberration. As the adrenaline started to drain from your system, the realization that death had been seconds away from stealing your life weighed on your mind like a wet blanket.
You scrubbed harshly at your hands until the water ran clear and then some. Staring at your reflection you slowly recomposed yourself. Freakishly red hair gave way to a more muted color, the yellow in your eyes faded to white, and bit by bit, the blue scales that cursed you with this power overturned into ordinary skin.
You curled your lips into a careless grin lined with a protective amount of cockiness. The great Mystique smiled back at you.
There you are, you thought.
The first time you had ever lied you were small and alone and desperately hungry for food. You had stolen a loaf of bread from a baker’s cart and bolted around a corner before shifting into someone else. When the seller asked you if you had seen a child run off, you looked him in the eye and told him no.
You weren’t sure how that one little lie had consumed you until there was no you left. Every morning you woke up and put on a charming show at the cost of further warping the person you ought to be. You’d die in your castle of lies, alone and bitter.
You walked back out into the hall, finding your attacker right where you left her. She stared down at the pool of blood staining the wood floor as if maybe she had imagined the entire ordeal.
“Unfortunately for you, I am still here,” you said. Unease churned in your stomach. Perhaps she was simply lying in wait, like a predator crouching in the tall yellow grass. “Made quite the mess though, don’t you think? The Prime Minister might have to look at new flooring.” You cringed as you stepped over the dark, coppery smelling spot. The warm light from the study spilled out into the hall. You walked into it, boldly turning your back on the woman. “Come on. I know you have questions.”
You leaned against the desk, next to a little bobble head of a dog. She walked in a few moments later, looking infinitely more at ease than she had in the hall. The knife had disappeared from her grasp. You saw right through the veil, having constructed a similar one in the privacy of the bathroom.
“So you’re not Jameson Harris, and you’re not Sam from London’s east end.” You shook your head, flicking at the toy. “Then who are you?” She stopped a respectable distance away, standing with her shoulders back and chin high.
You told her your name. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done that truthfully. Yet this stranger managed to coax it out of you with one question. Faith was a funny thing. “And you?” You asked, tracing the curve of her jaw with your eyes.
“Romanova. Natalia.” She told you so almost robotically, as if the name was reserved for other people to use against her. As if she did not have the right to define herself.
“Nice to meet you, Natalia.” You took another sip of the whiskey before offering her the bottle. She eyed it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned, I promise. It’ll get you damn drunk though.”
She took the bottle, fingers brushing yours momentarily. “I prefer vodka,” she said, drinking as if she’d been denied water for the past week. She passed it back, staring at you as if searching for something. “How?” She asked, your expression denying her any plausible answer.
“How what?” You asked, failing to suppress a growing smirk.
“The disguises.” The firm line of her lips told you she wasn’t entertained by your antics. “You’re wearing some kind of suit, are you not?” You could imagine the gears turning in her head, trying to explain the impossible.
You slid yourself back until you sat fully on the desktop. “Nope. Fanciest piece of technology I own is a little flip phone,” you said, tracing the smooth lip of the desk with your fingertips. “And I don’t wear tacky suits.”
“I’m offended,” she said lowly, not sounding the slightest bit bothered.
“Don’t be. The whole dark assassin thing suits you,” you said, waving your hand. “Not me though. I mean, could you imagine me in a skin tight suit?”
“I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I think you could pull it off.” She raked her gaze over you and heat rose to your cheeks.
You transformed into an exact copy of her, inspecting your hands in wonder as if she wasn’t standing an arm’s length away. “You’re right,” you said in her voice. “I do look good.” You threw a toothy grin her way before shifting back with a woosh.
Realization dawned on her, green eyes brightening. “You’re one of them,” she said.
“Yep.” You swirled the alcohol around, watching how the light played off the bottle. “One of them.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I’ve never—I’ve never met a mutant before.” She seemed awestruck at the revelation. You were so used to being met with fear and disgust.
“I’m sure you have. Especially with all of the traveling you do,” you said. You remembered the window, still propped open from earlier. “Those of us that can try to blend in with everyone else. Take any street in a big city, for example. If you walked around for a little I guarantee you’d pass at least one of us.” You gazed up at the night sky, dotted with a billion brilliant stars. The estate sat well removed from the city and its hungry lights. “Most of us learned pretty quickly how to adapt, how to stay safe and hidden in the crowd,” you explained.
“And those of you who can’t?” You looked over your shoulder at Natalia, so curious yet so far from innocent herself.
“We go underground to survive. Or run the risk of being killed, or worse.” You’d heard the rumors. Missing mutants spawned stories. Stories of various governments and other organizations abducting your kind for experimentation. A shiver crawled down your spine.
“Sounds like a lonely way to live.”
You slammed the window shut with more force than necessary. “Takes one to know one.” You guessed people in her life were nothing more than fleeting moments either. “My turn,” you said. “What’s got you sneaking around in the middle of the night, attempting murder on the British prime minister?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said as if speaking to a child. She took another long drink, fingers twitching at her side as a nervous tic. “What’s got you sitting in his house playing body double?” Her voice had taken on a defensive edge.
“A friend,” you replied smoothly. “And money, of course. Turns out protecting politicians pays almost as well as stealing from them.”
“Well I’m not a sellout.”
You narrowed your gaze. “No, you just slit throats because you’re told to, then.” Natalia furrowed her brow. “Unless you’re telling me you got bored and picked up a new hobby.” She stayed quiet, your words seemingly falling on deaf ears. “What?” You asked. Her lips were slightly parted. She stalked closer, eyes flickering over your face. “Hey, hey,” you stuttered, tripping over your feet as you backpedaled.
You huffed as you slammed into the wall. She reached out, so close now you could feel her breath on your face. You froze, heart thundering in your chest. She cupped your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing your flaming skin.
“Your eye,” she whispered as if it were something holy.
You blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“It’s yellow. They weren’t different colors before.”
You broke out of her hold, forcing yourself not to run to the mirror on the wall. The frame was a golden oval, hung in between a family portrait and a pair of framed university degrees. Sure enough your right eye had slipped back. You blinked and it fixed itself, but the damage was done.
“I should go,” you muttered, staring at the floor and beelining for the door. Too much alcohol and too little sleep and this was what you wound up with.
Natalia snagged your wrist and held you from taking off. You knew if you pulled away she’d let you go. You untensed the muscles in your back and let her spin you around.
You tilted your head down and met her in a slow kiss. She had you hooked and you didn’t care. You couldn’t think straight, the taste of her lips clouded your head like a powerful drug.
You threaded your fingers through her hair and undid her braid while her hand wandered down to your belt. You pulled back, breathless. “I’m not looking for nothing here,” you insisted, even if only to try to convince yourself.
“Me neither,” she agreed. “One night.” She kissed your neck and a low grunt wound its way up from the back of your throat. “You’ll never have to see me again.”
You didn’t know why a pang wracked your chest still her words. That was the plan, after all. You knew you weren’t cut out for more than tonight. And with the way Natalia dragged her nails down your back, you guessed she wasn’t either.
“Bedroom,” you demanded, stepping out of your pants that now lay pooled around your ankles. You stumbled down the hall, blinded by her body as she lost her suit, and deafened by the way she panted your name between desperate kisses.
God, you were screwed.
—
You didn’t sleep, knowing you’d lose grip on your appearance if you did, but with each passing minute you found it harder and harder to stay awake. Natalia lay pressed into your side, so close that you could feel her heartbeat in your ribcage. Her body radiated heat, not the kind that made your face flush with infatuation, but the kind that felt like finally finding shelter after an eternity in the freezing rain. Her breaths wound in and out as if she were sleeping, but you knew she couldn’t. No. Someone who led her life had to be hardwired to never let their guard down.
Finally, after catching yourself almost dozing off for the tenth time you peeled back the covers and forced yourself to leave the confines of the mattress that seemed intent on sucking you back down. Goosebumps immediately rose along your skin, but you didn’t dare to glance back at bed and the woman feigning slumber. You stood and stretched, working the stiff muscles in your back and shoulders. Don’t look back. You followed the trail of hastily removed clothing down the dark hall and back to the study, candles still alight.
You buckled your jeans and grabbed your bag, lingering by the door. Don’t go back. Hastily you rummaged through the desk drawers, finding a pen and pad of paper. You scribbled down the address of a PO box that you checked quarterly along with a note that read, For another one night.
A/N
If you didn't catch it, R is a shapeshifter like Mystique from the X-Men. I wrote this piece with the intent of having it serve as the first chapter in a longer story. I wasn't certain of the amount of interest in a series though... I fear Tumblr may be drying up some.
Let me know if you'd like to see more and I can post up the second chapter, otherwise I'll leave it be as a one-shot.
As always, thanks for reading and just a reminder, my requests are open.
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[ INHALE EXHALE ]
I love love love writing for Hobie, but I definitely need to come up out of my Hobie era. So, time to binge watch some shows/movies and develop some new obsessions.
This is just me going further into two things I mentioned in my headcanons. (1) Hobie never lets you just sit beside him while being cozy at home, he’ll set you on his lap. (2) He shotguns while smoking.
description: you find comfort in each other as the day comes to an end.
tags: hobie brown x black!reader, fluff, comfort
warning(s): smoking, so may not be sfw (?)
word count: 500+ words
The cold air of the living room was somewhat welcoming as you sat comfortably on the orange colored couch. Next to your boyfriend, Hobie Brown, who had been preoccupied with the rolling tray in front of him. The low sound of music hummed through the room, emitted from the bluetooth speaker on the coffee table in front of you both. You were sure if you were to walk far enough through the apartment you wouldn’t be able to hear it.
Your fingertips played at the white contrast stitching on your black cotton shorts, your white tank top slightly shifted as you moved closer to Hobie. Your hair that was pulled into a low puff slightly brushed against the back of the couch as you lay your head on his shoulder. Unbothered by the way his shoulder moved a bit as he messed with the contents on the tray in his lap.
He paused momentarily after he picked the neatly wrapped blunt up from the tray. His cockney accent layered voice cut through the cold air, “Come here,” he spoke lowly. Wrapping the arm closest to you around your waist to pull you into his lap.
“How was it today,” you questioned Hobie about his day, as his free hand ran over you brown skin lazily for just a second. Being the masked hero, Spider-Man, definitely had its good days and bad days. When they were bad, it seems like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
“It was fine, love,” the ends of his lips quipped up into a subtle smile. His lip ring shifting lightly. “Stopped a few muggings, saved a couple babies,” he said as he sifted through the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a dark blue lighter.
With a laugh you half-joked as he lit the blunt and began to smoke, your head on his chest, “What would we do without our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, huh?”
“The world may never know,” he replied as he blew smoke out in front of the both of you. Resting a finger under your chin, he tilted your head up to meet his, your eyes peering back at each other. “You feeling up to it today,” he questioned, which you quickly knew he meant smoking.
“Yeah, I am,” you gently replied.
Watching as he took another hit you half expected him to hand the blunt over and allow you to do the same. Instead, he kept your head tilted towards him, and without exhaling leaned in towards you. Your lips connecting as he blew the smoke into your slightly opened mouth and without moving the gesture shifted into a deeply shared kiss. His lip ring bumping against your lips.
As you both pulled away, whatever bit of smoke hadn’t escaped through your nose flowed out through your mouth. The music that played through the bluetooth switched as the previous song ended just as you leaned forward for a few chaste pecks.
As he slipped the blunt in between your fingers Hobie adjusted himself beneath you. Slouching back as you laid back on his chest and took a long drag. Both happy within the present moment.
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Shiny fabric
As much as Mack enjoyed living in the countryside in Scotland, he also enjoyed the occasional trip to London. He loved the metropolis, which was yet another category entirely different from Glasgow. And Mack loved the East End. Here he found honest lads, real fellas, with whom one could have all kinds of fun. Fun of all kinds. Actually, it was usually enough for Mack if there were a few beers and if there was fucking afterwards. That was all he needed on a good night out in London. But tonight he was excited. He'd passed a store last night on the way to his hotel room that had Adidas Chile tracksuits in his size in the window. In XXL. Black with gold stripes. He had been looking for it for years. Just wasn't available in that size anymore. He had never understood why Adidas no longer produced it. He knew a whole bunch of fellas who got off on the shiny fabric. He wouldn't necessarily wear something like that in public. But at home. Jerking off in the fabric. He had gotten a boner right away at the thought.
The store was called CHAVTF and it opened at 11:00 on Saturday. At 10:50, Mack was at the door. He didn't want to take any chances, he had to have the tracksuit. At 11:15, a young man came and opened the door. Slim, he wore a tracksuit himself and an alpha jacket over it. Hair noticeably shorter than Mack's. Cool bastard, Mack thought to himself… The cool bastard asked Mack into the store, turned on the lights and asked how he could help. As cool as he could be, Mack asked for the suit from the store window. In XXL. The store clerk laughed. Mate, the only thing XXL about you is your dick. There are changing rooms in the back, get undressed, I'll bring you the tracksuit. Without thinking, Mack went into the locker room and stripped naked. Between his legs dangled his impressive cock, dripping precum. He looked at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. The young man came into the cubicle, the curtain of which was not drawn at all. He placed the suit on a stool, hugged Mack from behind, and grasped the massive cock with both hands. "To try on the suit, though, please wrap that beauty up," he laughed. Mack picked up the jockstrap from the floor and pulled it over his wiry, hairy legs. The jockstrap still reeked of last night's piss, cum and beer. He took the shiny size S pants and pulled them up. Fit like a glove. The store clerk cleared out a new shipment of goods and stopped briefly at the changing room. Looks extremely awesome, mate. Your customers are going to love it."
Mack reached through the fabric of his pants for his cock. "Hell, yeah," he said enthusiastically. "Here, try this T-shirt with it," the store clerk said, tossing him a compression shirt with Batman printed on it. Mack slipped it on and nodded his approval. Looked cool, accentuated his lean body. "Say, how much do you actually take for a date?" Mack said that depended on the customer, a quick blowjob here in the locker room would be free. But otherwise, he would be a luxury product. Only for an escort service he took 200 pounds an hour. Everything else cost extra. "Bloody hell," the clerk replied. 'I work two days for that. When things are going well. But don't your customers expect someone freshly showered? You smell like you haven't showered in two days." "Three, actually. I'm about to have a pervert jerk off while he gets to smell my armpits. Gives you some extra cash." "I really have the wrong job. Is the Arab accent a trick? Or are you really from there." Maleek explained in the finest Cockney accent that his parents were from Morocco, but he was born here. Of course, the Arab accent is a trick. But his clients would dig it.
Maleek paid for the three tracksuits that were still available in his size. He knew how dates with his next client went. If his tracksuit survived, his client would ask him to piss in it and then pay him easily five times what he had to pay now for three suits. So two suits on reserve was a wise investment. And just because he was a whore, he didn't have to be a bad businessman. But now let's go to the agreed meeting place and play the street hustler. That was part of the game with his client.
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watermelon lime
recipe ♡ : alternative route- BP if hobie was mean :( here's the link to the original !
ingredients ♡ : smutty smut smut smut, mdni, hobie’s kind of an asshole but it’s nerve gratingly attractive, cockney accent, word count: 1k, hobie brown x blk!fem!reader, lots of teasing, exhibitionism
notes ♡ : okay so i know this isn’t want yall wanted but fsr this is where my inspiration is blooming. ctc and headcanons are still coming but for right now here’s a sample + more to come. although this can be read without connecting back to bp, i wanted to include this “deleted scene” cause i thought it was pretty good and i wanted to share it w/you guys okay bye ily
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Another deep exhale leaves your lungs as you stare ahead at your shaking hands. Heat blooms to the surface of your skin while Hobie’s hands traverse your body, every so often pinching or squeezing appreciatively at your plump skin. You grew to ignore the numb feeling in your legs, right about when he started slipping his cock in between your folds, dipping the tip in and out. He watched as your greedy walls sucked him in while his voice remained in your ear, taunting you with his smooth tone.
You two had been at this for a while. It had been thirty minutes since he pulled you from the cafeteria, away from the prying eyes of spiders and security cameras. He had promised it would just be a couple of minutes, just to get his mind off it. Well, that was a lie.
What Hobie “ got off “ of, was your torment, enjoying the small whines you’d make when he’d toy with your clit while pressing his lips to your neck. Or rubbing his cock in between your legs, making your pussy ache for more. The teasing had been fun at first, but after the half hour mark you were beginning to lose it, throwing yourself back on him for any sort of friction. He still refused to go inside, insisting on making your shared break worth it. Your gaze is clouded, mind immersed in a lustful haze. Hobie’s voice cuts through the fog, bringing you back down to earth.
"You wan’ me that bad, ‘mm? " Oh fuck him. Fuck him and his obnoxiously hot voice. You swallow the spit that’s collected to gather the words in your throat, ignoring your growing frustration.
" Hobie- "
"Wha' 'appened to bein' shy, love? "
"Just get inside me-"
He catches you off guard when the head of his cock swirls around your opening, capturing your slick. You shiver as you brace against the wall, as he slowly pushes a couple of inches into your sopping heat. Your pussy sobs in relief, grateful to be filled, even if not entirely. But it’s still not enough.
" Ah, ah, ah, no talkin' back. " His hands grip the soft flesh of your hips, squeezing gently. His strong hands still you, preventing you from moving any further. You could practically feel his shit-eating grin from behind, his face pressed into the back of your head, breath tickling the back of your neck. It was aggravating, how adamant Hobie was to stick to this game. As if none of this meant anything. Like the swell of your pussy around his dick didn’t make his head spin. But it was all part of the thrill. It’d be no fun if he gave in so easily.
" Don’ worry, love. You’ll get what’s comin’ t’ you. " blunt nails dig into the meat of your flesh, the soft heat of your cunt pulling him in. He bites his bottom lip, eyes glued to the spot where the two of you connect. God, you were just glazing him.
" Please. " You gasp out, wiggling your hips against his cock. Drops of your fluids fall to the ground from your movements. In any other instance the prospect of leaving evidence of your tryst would be mortifying. Hobie’s grip loosens momentarily, enamored by the mesmerizing jiggle of your ass. It would be a sweet surrender, to indulge in the tight squeeze of your walls. To pound away in abandon, relishing in the sounds that fall from your sweet lips. His resolve wavers, just for a moment, before he’s reminded of his mission.
He sucks in a breath, before exhaling. " Darlin', you're making this really hard on me. "
" Just do it! Please, before someone sees us. "
A wolfish grin appears on his face, before pressing his chest against your back. " Oh you'd hate that wouldn't ya? " His hips push forward again, settling more of his thick cock inside your core. " Someone catching us while I’m deep inside this pretty pussy? "
Your eyes wince as you blink past tears, a shudder wracking through your body at his words. As much as you’d hate to admit, that idea has entered your head more than once, not being the first time you two have tried something like this. And as embarrassing as it would be…your heart races with excitement.
The thought is blown away when he kisses at your ear, tucking one of your braids behind it. " You're beau’iful, baby. Trust me, it would be their honor. " His praise is touching, but does nothing to satiate the ever-growing knot in your belly. You had to put an end to this.
Taking a deep inhale, you plant your palms against the wall and throw your hips back against his leaking cock, trying to fit in as much of him as you can. Your thighs burn as you push your limits just for a brief moment of satisfaction. Hobie stops you immediately, a gruff tone overtaking him.
" ‘ey, knock it off. " His hands feel like lava on your already heated skin, spiking your nerves. They cement you in place, making you nearly scream in retaliation.
" Come on, Hobie! “ You didn’t care who could hear anymore, didn’t care if anyone turned the corner. This was his fault after all. He should take responsibility.
" Relax, “ he drawls out, “ you know I'm good for it. "
" Really? Or are you just gonna waste my time? "
Now, you’d never seek to toy with Hobie’s emotions (as a first attempt), but he had worn your patience thin. That and the results were always favorable. A pregnant pause fills the air, before the inevitable takes place, thanks to your insulting words. Without even giving you the chance to take them back, Hobie thrusts the entirety of himself inside your soaked hole, the tip striking a sensitive bundle of nerves. A shriek flies out of your mouth before you can stop it, his bruising pace driving you up the wall. His hips slap against your ass, feeding you every inch of his cock, as far as it can go.
“ Tha’ do i’ for you? Mm? Such a smart mouth. “ He grunts out, leaning back to watch how your hole swallows him up. “ Wha’ ‘appened to my good girl, eh? She don’ like me anymore? “ You sob into the wall, resting your head against your hands. Your legs instinctively spread wider, allowing him to hit deeper. Voice hoarse and eyes watery, you blurt out,
“ You’re such an asshole. “ Much like before, his voice is taunting in your ear, sharp canines ghosting along the shell.
“ Don’ act like you don’t love it. “
#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#hobie x black!reader#x black fem reader#hobie x blk!fem!reader#astv hobie#hobie spiderverse#spider punk#samples#hobie brown smut#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#atsv#atsv smut
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1. Alfie Solomons 18+
Word count 3,175
1. Alfie Solomons 18+
(Y/n) p.o.v
I've had enough of Small Heath, Birmingham, so I told Poll I'm going to London to visit Ada. Granted I was staying with my younger sister, but I spent most of my time with old friends that moved out of Birmingham. They told me about this club, it's supposedly the rage of London, and I'm dying to see just how big this place is.
"Hurry (y/n)! The car is here." My friend, Mildred yells for me.
"I'm coming!" I rush past Ada with a kiss on the cheek. "Be back in the morning Ada!" I yell over my shoulder.
"All because your name is Shelby doesn't mean you have to act like one!" I hear Ada as I climb into the car.
As Mildred, Joan, and I rode in the car we told stories of our lives, and we'd laugh. We finally got to the club, and I'm so thankful no one knows who I am, or my family. We walk in, check our coats, and immediately I get an idea of what kind of club this was. There were people doing drugs before you even got to the main club part, along with people having sex against the wall. I might as well have stayed in Small Heath for this. The only difference was this was high class instead of the dirty Garrison.
As the night went on I lost each friend to guys, one with snow, and the other to dancing. I stayed at our table, relaxing against my seat, just enjoying the music, and my drink. That was until some high-end guy sat in the seat next to me, and moved it closer. I slightly move to the side to take a sip of my drink, trying my best to ignore him, but he takes my drink out of my hand.
"You shouldn't be alone." He states. "It's not safe for a woman to be here alone."
"I'm fine." I say in a monotone.
"Why don't we get a drink? I can get you the top stuff." He boosts.
"I have the top shelf. Thank you" I state trying to reach for my glass.
He grabs my arm while he stands, lifting me up with him. I try to pull my arm away, but his grip hardens.
"Dance with me." He commands.
Before I can curse at him a big fist collides with his jaw, making him fall to the ground. I turn to my savior to see a man with a beard, top hat, and a cane. He moves to stand in front of me.
"Right, you say you're sorry to the lady." His cockney accent throws me.
"I'm not…" the man stops when he looks up. "Sorry ma'am." He then runs away.
"Names Alfie Solomons, love. " He tips his hat to me.
"(Y/n)." I purposely leave my last name out.
"You need a new drink, love. What you havin'?" He points to my spilt glass.
"Gin and water." I told him. I could tell it surprised him.
"That's fucking awful. Let me get you a proper drink." He sirs as he holds two fingers to the bartender.
"So, what has a gentleman, like yourself, in a club like this?" I smirk at him.
"I could ask the same, love." He chuckles.
We are a couple drinks down. Apparently the rum in London is a lot smoother than in Birmingham. We laugh at each other's stories. I say goodbye to my friends when they leave with their own men.
"I couldn't possibly drink another one." I giggle as I move the half empty glass away.
"Let me help you." He helps me stand straight as we walk out.
Alfie walks me to a cab that's sitting waiting outside. I laugh at myself as I slip into the seat. I lay my head against Alfie's shoulder as he tells the driver to go he moves to rest on my crossed knee, and the other over his cane. I run my hand along his arm until it wraps around his bicep, and the other rests on the top of his rough hand. He flips his hand to actually hold my hand. We rode in comfortable silence until I eventually leaned my head on his shoulder.
When we pull up to his hotel he pays the driver, and helps me out. I keep hold of his hand as he guides me up the stairs. Once we get to his door his hands go to my waist to pull me close to him. I run my fingers in his beard as I smile up at him as we lean into each other. We kiss like we haven't seen each other in years, like we needed each other. He starts to kiss along my jaw.
"Al…Alfie please open the door." I softly moan into his ear.
He gives me a smirk as he takes a small step back, but doesn't let go of me as he turns to the door. I squeal from being picked up from the waist, and I hear the door slam behind me. I giggle as I'm set on my feet again. I turn to Alfie, playfully hitting his arm.
"You awful man." I laugh.
He chuckles as he throws his jacket off letting it fall over a chair while his cane falls to the floor. He grabs me by my waist to pull me to his chest. I smile up at him as I move his suspenders down his arms. He backs us to the bed making us fall onto the bed, with my knees on his hips. I gasp when he starts kissing my shoulder to my neck. I grab the back of his neck as he starts moving his hand up my leg, bringing my skirt up with his hand. I rest my hands in his hair while I open my legs for him to kneel between them. He locks his eyes with me as he pulls my underwear down. With a tight grip on my thighs he begins to kiss along the inside of my thigh then doing the same to the other side. I tried to lean on my elbows to watch him, but the closer he gets the more intense I feel. I fall on my back with soft moans. He finally is close enough, but all he does is kiss my lower lips with a quick kiss. I almost whine, but it stops in my throat when he licks up my opening.
"Alfie." I reach for his hand on my hip.
He entwined our fingers, giving me a slight squeeze before completely devouring me like a starved man. My back arches into the air as I grasp the top of his head. I've never had a man do this, this good before. My thighs already start to shake from him playing with my clit.
"Alfie, please! I…" my head falls back as I beg.
I feel his free hand run up my stomach to my chest as he sucks my clit while pulling away. He uses his hand to hold me down while I shake under him, a moaning mess. While I catch my breath he stands to look over me, and slides his pants off. I quickly slide my dress over my head as he crawls between my legs. I rub my hands over his shoulders as he gets in between my legs. My body is just melted, a puddle under him. I actually need him. I've never needed anyone this way before, and it's throwing my mind off. I can't keep any sense to me while he slowly slides into me. He doesn't stop until his hips are against mine, and he leans down, his groans vibrating my shoulder.
"Fuck, love." He starts to move.
I move my hips along with his as he moves faster. He knows every spot like I've known him for years. The faster he moves the louder the bed squeaks, the harder I grip his arm, and he tightly squeezes me to his chest. I bite my lip to hold my moans in, but he rams hard enough to reach deeper than I could ever imagine. I have to hide my mouth in his neck as I moan out.
"Alfie. Please." I beg into his neck.
His movements become sloppy, and I can feel myself tighten around him, feeling every grove of him. With a deep groan and another deep ram we release at the same time. I tried to catch my breath, but Alfie pulling me to his chest didn't help. I usually leave after I relax for a moment, however his arms are so warm I fall asleep.
I wake up at some point in the morning, and begin to slowly leave. I have to get out of here before he gets up or it's going to be awkward. I don't have many one nights, but I know the rules. I get back to Adas while she is at work, so I just go back to bed for a couple hours. I'm woken by the phone ringing.
"Ada Thorne residents." I answer.
"(Y/n), I need you back soon. Come straight to the Arrow House." Tommy orders before hanging up.
"Oh yes Tommy. No problem Tommy." I grumble to myself hanging up the phone.
He's such a pain in the ass. I tell Ada Tommy's orders, and she just rolls her eyes as she helps me pack. I give her and Karl a final hug as I board the train. I can't stand how I have to follow Tommy's rules, and orders. I swear I'm gonna smack him one day.
Coming into the station I see Tommy's driver waiting for me, and helps with my bags. Of course Thomas Shelby couldn't meet his sister at the station. The drive to Arrow was peaceful, and all I thought about was Alfie. I start feeling guilty for leaving, for some reason. Pulling into the long driveway of the house I roll my eyes at Tommy's new living.
"(Y/n) welcome back. How's Ada?" Polly asks as she helps me step out of the car.
"Ada is fine, Karl is driving her mad with his shenanigans, but overall fine." I laugh with her while we walk inside.
"Well Tommy of course was ahead of himself, because his meeting isn't until tomorrow." She walks me toward the living room. "I told him you would already be here, but of course he didn't listen." She lights her cigarette as she talks.
"It's okay I wasn't really doing anything." I shrug.
She hums in reply, but Tommy stops her from actually saying anything. He doesn't even acknowledge us here, he just pours him a drink.
"(Y/n) my business partner will be here tomorrow afternoon. I need you there to have the papers in order." He simply tells me.
"Why can't Lizzie help you?"
"Because I have you doing something else." He walks away with no response from me.
The rest of the night I talked with Polly. I went to bed dreaming of ocean water. I woke to Polly shaking me awake for breakfast. I took my time getting ready, and setting the papers in front of Tommy making sure he saw I put them there. John, Arthur, and Tommy start talking business, so I just leave.
Around two in the afternoon I was called into Tommy's office by Polly. She has hard eyes when I see her, but I should've been listening to the voice in the office. As I walk in everything goes quiet.
"(Y/n)." When I hear that deep voice again I almost fall to my needs, but instead my head snaps up to the man standing next to my brother's desk.
"Al…what?" I try to gather myself, but of of course a girl can't do that when she has brothers.
"How the fuck do you know our sister?" Arthur stands from his seat.
Alfie just looks at me in shock as I do him, maybe in deeper shock. I look at Tommy as he stares at me. He knew. He knew, and that's why he called me to come here. My head begins to spin as John and Arthur start yelling, so I just run out of the room.
"(Y/n)!" I hear multiple voices call behind me.
I run to the side of the house, squatting down, and just take deep breaths. I slept with their business partner, and I might actually feel something for him. I already know it's not going to end well for me or Alfie. I stay leaning against the house until I hear my name being called.
"Love where are you?" I hear Alfie's voice call with the others.
I take a deep breath before walking out. Polly, John, and Alfie are watching me walk toward them. Alfie looks my body over with sad eyes before turning to his car. Polly puts her arms around me as Alfie drives away. I know we weren't together, but it still hurt he left.
"It'll turn out right (y/n)." John rubs my arm.
We walk back into the office we're a fuming Arthur is sitting with a calm looking Tommy. Polly sits me in a chair in front of the desk, and sits next to me as John stands behind my chair. The look Tommy is giving me is like he's looking at every depth of my soul. He clears his throat before light a cigarette, and turning his eyes to Arthur.
"His name is Alfie Solomons, and he runs the Jews in Camden Town. We started working with him when we went against Sabini, but Alfie decided he wanted the Italians." Tommy clears his throat. "You know everything after that, but he hasn't done anything lately." He looks at Arthur when he scoffs. "I need to know if you knew him."
"No, I swear we met at the club in London." I tell the truth.
"Do you care for him?" Tommy asks.
"I… well.."
"Who cares?! You go near him again, I'll cut him." Arthur storms out.
"Answer me." Tommy pushes.
"Thomas enough." Polly steps in, but Tommy just stares me down.
"I don't know." I shrug.
"You don't know, but yet you slept with him." He scoffs.
"Oh please like you are the Virgin Mary." I roll my eyes. "I did know he was a gang leader or something like that. He stood up for me and bought me a drink. He was different." I say the last to myself but of course Polly heard, and snapped her head to me.
"Alright that's enough. She hasn't done anything wrong,Thomas. What she chooses is her choice." Polly tells Tommy, and gives him the eyes that meant that the conversation is over.
She walks us up to my room, and shuts the door when I sit on my bed.
"Now it's my job to tell you what he said." She smirks at my reaction, and hands me a folded paper. "If you want to call him he will answer, and business is business not this." With that she left.
Over the next couple days I keep thinking of Alfie, so when the guys are gone I use the library phone to call Alfie, and when his deep force answers I freeze.
"Hello!" He calls again with frustration.
"Alfie?" I quietly answered.
"(Y/n)? Wha…are you okay?" He sounds so flustered.
"I'm okay. I just decided to call you." I hear something move in the background.
"I'm glad you called. I knew you couldn't resist me, love.'' He chuckles along with my giggles.
We talk until I hear a while blowing in the background. He grumbles under his breath.
"It's quitting time, love. I have to go."
"Oh okay." I pause for a moment. "Where do you work?"
"A bread factory in Camden Town." He tells me, but a loud bang is heard before I could respond. "Love I gotta go, I work with idiots."
"Okay bye Alfie." I giggle.
"Bye love." He hangs up.
I turn around to leave with a giddy smile on my face, but Tommy leaning against the door with his arms crossed.
"I'll deal with Arthur, just don't lie to us." He walked away before I could hug him.
I rush to my room, and throw things into a small bag. I have to get back to London. I tell my family where I was going, and the only thing Polly tells me is to be careful. The train pulls into the London station, and I see Ada waiting for me. When she sees me she gives me a smirk with her hands on her hips.
"I told you just because you are named Shelby doesn't mean you act like them." We laugh as we get to her car.
The next morning I got ready. I make sure everything is perfect before I get into the taxi. As the drive gets closer to where I'm going I begin to get nervous. What will happen? We stop close enough to the door. I knock on the big door almost getting hit with it when a scrawny man with an apron answers.
"I'm here for Mr. Solomons, the name's Shelby." I simply tell him.
He opens the door further for me, and I follow him through the bakery, up the stairs to Alfie's office. He points toward the door before going back down the stairs. I softly knock on the door before opening it slowly.
"What now, Ollie?" He doesn't look up from his papers until the click of my heels hit the floor as I walk to him. "What are you doing here, love?" I sit on the corner of his desk.
"Well I decided that I wanted to come see you, and that maybe we could talk somethings out." I nervously twist the bead on my dress.
"What is there to talk out? I assumed with your call the other day you were mine." He simply tells me as he stands.
"Well I guess so. I just…" He cages me with his arms.
"You wanted to see me." He finished for me. "I'm glad you're here." He kisses me deeply.
I stayed with Alfie for a whole week, and he almost had my brother banging down his door when he wouldn't let me leave. He ended up coming to Small Health for a few days until the smog got to him. After a couple of months of back and forth Alfie asked me to marry him. Arthur beat him up when we told everyone, but everything is overall okay. The day before my wedding Polly told me I was pregnant, and the baby was going to be famous. My sweet Sylvia was born. She was our angel. However our son Jack became a gang leader like his father. I love him to pieces, but he gives me heart failure.
#x reader#x reader smut#smut#fluff#fandom#reader x oc#reader#romance#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons fanfiction#alfie solomons fic#alfie solomons imagine#alfie solomons smut#alfie solomons x y/n#alfie solomons x you#alfie x reader#peaky blinders alfie#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders x reader#long reads#peaky blinders fic
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Message In A Bottle - DR3 x fem!OC
Masterlist
Summary: After Dan lets something slip in their phone call after FP2 in China, Em makes a split second decision to make sure he’s ok. Three flights later it’s worth every moment of it.
Warnings: Smut (18+ only!).
Word count: 8.6k
A/N: We know that 2022 won the poll, but we have been working on this one for quite a while!
April 2019
The alarm at one fifty in the morning was too loud as Em hit her phone to switch it off, rolling over to pick the offending object off the nightstand. If anyone had ever told her that she would be willingly awake so she could watch cars do a Formula One practice at two in the morning she’d call them a liar, but there she was. She dragged herself to the couch with her phone in one hand and a blanket in the other to create a cocoon to watch practice from.
She kept a look out for Dan’s yellow and black car, watching him take the track with ease. Her nerves were still high, she couldn’t forget how he looked when he’d DNF’d in Australia, and then the sadness in his voice when she called after the Bahrain race. She’d wanted to be there with him, but she couldn’t justify the cost of flights and it fucking sucked. Em missed her boys and the three weeks they’d been apart so far had been fucking awful. And it was nearly another week until she’d arrive in LA to go to Coachella with Dan.
Seeing Dan finish the practice near the top of the timings made her smile, and she texted a selfie of her face in the dark room along with a well done, proud of you to him. Watching him do media in that stupid yellow cap made her grin to see an actual smile on his face for the first time in weeks. Almost everything to do with Dan made her smile if she was honest and she couldn’t help it. Once he was on her screen she hit send on the text, watching as the moment his phone vibrated in his pocket he stilled for a millisecond. She could see how his expression and body language changed. For nearly anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but Em wasn’t just anyone. Ten minutes later she had a response.
You were watching? It’s three in the fucking morning baby girl.
I couldn’t miss you driving.
Instead of another text as a response her phone buzzed with a call, Dan’s grin filling her screen. She answered, determined to keep happy with him.
“Hey Handsome, well done!” She said as Dan let out a sigh.
“Thanks. I…yeah. At least we finished. We made it through the practice and neither engine broke down.” There was no sassy reply, no silly comment, no nickname. It was worrying.
“Dan, you can’t perform miracles when the car is still developing. You were ahead of Pierre, you were barely behind Max. You beat Nico. You’re getting everything you can out of this car already. The points are coming, Babe, I promise.”
“Yeah.” He sounded dejected and she wanted to wipe his frown away. Dan’s face should never have a frown on it, he was built to smile. “I just miss you. Can you please just come out? Never mind, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything. It’s too fucking far away, I hate being thousands of miles away.”
It was the disappointment in his voice that made her make a split second decision.
“Dan…”
“Look, I have to go, we’ve got an engineering briefing and Mike wants to do some stretching. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He hung up without saying goodbye and that’s when Em knew just how bad it was. Her encouragement had helped him before in Melbourne, it had helped when they FaceTimed after the race in Bahrain, but this time it did nothing.
She checked the time - quarter to four in the morning. She could do this. Daniel deserved the effort. It took fifteen minutes to change, pack a backpack with some clothes, and order a taxi that was waiting outside her flat to bring her to Heathrow. The driver thought she was crazy with just her carry on, asking her questions.
“Where are you off to then, Luv?” He wondered, a proper Cockney accent asking questions.
“Last minute trip to China. A friend needs me.”
“Without a suitcase?”
“If I spend the time to pack I won’t make it in time. All I need is some clothes and I can sort everything else when I’m there.”
“Must be a really important friend for you to do a trip like this.” He smiled as he looked at her through the rear view mirror. Em just nodded, not really sure what to say.
She made it to the Hainian Air ticket counter and handed over her credit card to pay the disgustingly expensive ticket charge. It was about to wipe out most of her savings but seeing Dan’s face when she got in would be worth it. Before she boarded her first flight - the first of three because ew - she called Blake.
“Hey Ems, can I call you back? I’m about to go into a meeting.”
“I won’t be able to answer. Is Dan there?”
“No. What’s going on?” Her neighbour sounded confused and she grinned, half listening to the announcement that her flight would board shortly.
“I need you to organise a car to meet me in Shanghai International at ten fifteen in the morning to bring me to the track.”
“Ems. What the fuck?”
“I’m waiting to board my flight, I get into Shanghai in the morning. Blake he called me and he needs me. He’s not okay. So I’m about to get on a plane and I’m coming straight to the track. Can you get me a pass so I can get in?”
“Consider it done. You’re insane. You know that?”
“You adore me anyway.”
“Damn right I do, TimTam. I’ll book the car and make sure Dan doesn’t know. Text in between your flights?”
“Gotcha. And thanks. I’ve gotta go, we’re boarding.”
The fact that Blake didn’t argue with her meant that she was doing the right thing. Michael was the optimist in their group, he was the one who insisted everything would turn out great at all times. Meanwhile Blake was the realist. It was part of his job as Dan’s manager. He was realistic and honest and blunt when he needed to be. It was part of why she adored him so much. This had to be a good thing.
If you asked Em exactly what she did on her layovers she couldn’t tell you. The one in Brussels was long, eating breakfast and people watching to get her through it. It was getting to evening in Shanghai and she wanted to be as on time as she could be. The main thing she did was cancel her flight to LA for Coachella. This trip was wiping her out enough, the festival wasn’t happening. Maybe next year she could do it. At least the BA flight was the refundable option, it’d cover part of the cost of her flight to China.
The final thing before boarding the flight to Beijing was texting Dan that she was in client meetings all day and wouldn’t be able to talk to him, but good luck for FP3 and she’d try to call him before qualifying. On board the flight Em just tried to sleep for most of it. It was ten hours long and she spent most of it with a crappy pillow behind her head and thin blanket over her lap thanks to the broken sleep the night before. The food wasn’t great but it wasn’t the worst, and she forced down the breakfast they gave her. Nerves made it hard to eat, so nervous about seeing Dan. Would he actually be happy to see her? She hoped so. He said he wanted her there, but it was easy to say that when she wasn’t able to actually get there.
When she arrived in Beijing and connected her phone to Wi-Fi there was a text from Dan saying he missed her. She couldn’t reply yet, UK Emmy should be in bed before getting up for FP3. The other texts were from Blake confirming that someone would be waiting for her at arrivals, and how to get her pass and where to go once she made it to arrivals. Passport control was a pain, but she made it through after some questions about the last minute booking and why Shanghai. Blake’s texts confirming the pass and photos of her at other races getting her through.
The long layover in Beijing gave her a chance to drink yet more coffee and eat some breakfast to prepare for the chaos that was about to ensue. The two hour long flight went by quickly, and once she was off the final plane for a few days she walked straight out into baggage claim to search for whoever from Renault got the task of picking her up. Instead of a driver or someone in a team shirt Blake stood there, a wide grin on his face as she hugged him.
“I figured it was easier to just pick you up myself. Remember when you said that I just needed to get you a pass for Melbourne? That you didn’t want to go to any other flyaway races?” She laughed at his joking tone, watching as he took in her lack of luggage. “Where is everything?”
“If I packed I’d miss my flight. I’ll need to pick up something because I’ve just got a few tees and extra underwear, nothing else. How long will it take to get to the track?”
“I thought you’d want to go to the hotel?”
“If I get near a bed I’m falling asleep for the day, so track it is. How is he?”
“Honestly? Not great. Frustrated, he reminds me of the end of last year.
Her heart broke at Blake’s words, thinking about the way Dan had nearly given up at the end of last year. They’d worked so hard to help him this year and if it didn’t work she didn’t know what they’d do. The hour drive to the circuit felt like a lifetime, Blake telling her to nap on the drive so she could see him when she got there. It was scanning her pass and going straight to the Renault garage, waving at the mechanics she’d met in Australia and nodding at Cyril, who had a wide smile when he saw her.
Practice was nearly over but she watched the end from his drivers room. The last thing she wanted was Dan seeing her in public, she wanted their reunion to be private. She knew everyone would keep that she was there a secret so it was safe until he came in. Instead she sat in the small room with the tiny tv, watching Dan’s car solidly in P13. It was only practice as she counted down, but she knew he’d be devastated by it. Hearing him over the radio asking where he was compared to Nico hurt her heart and she wanted to run down to the garage to see him. It might have been practice but things weren’t good at all for him.
The cameras were focused on Dan getting out of the car to talk to his engineer, flashing a wide grin at the lenses. She could tell it was fake as soon as she saw it, his eyes not lit up like usual. All Em wanted to do was run down to him and wrap him in her arms, but she couldn’t save him from the media questions. She muted the tv as media rounds began, wanting to see his face but not listen to him blame himself. A couple more minutes and he could relax and be himself, she could hold him and be held by him and have that reminder that people cared about him for so many more reasons than just being a driver. They could hide from the world until his engineering meeting, and she’d stand in the garage to watch him in qualifying.
They cut from the interview with Daniel and her phone buzzed from with a text from Mike to bring her back to reality. As she opened her messages one from Dan came in, asking if she was watching. A quick I’ll talk to you in 5 xx was enough to stop him from calling her straight away, her message from Michael a warning that Dan was on his way back.
She hated keeping anything from him, hated that she’d told him a lie that she was busy with clients and time zones so she couldn’t talk to him while she was flying. Lying to Dan just felt so, so wrong. She’d never drawn that line between them. From the moment they started texting she always answered the phone when Dimples called her. There’d been too many talks when they were on opposite sides of the world for her not to, too many times she’d gotten a call where she’d answer with sleep thick on her voice and he’d immediately curse and try to do timezone maths. For a man who knew so much about engineering and the physics of airflow, he couldn’t always do basic maths.
She sat there nearly vibrating with nerves and excitement as she heard three all too familiar Australian accents coming towards her. She didn’t know what they were talking about and she didn’t really care. If it was important she’d find out later, but Dan was right there and she’d get to see his big brown eyes in a moment. The door opened as Dan entered first. Blake and Michael grinned at her from behind him as Dan ranted before realising she was there.
“I know its a project but I don’t even know if I’ll finish the race. If I DNF tomorrow then I’m the first to do that since 2017. Another one in Baku and I’m the first to do that since Alonso and Sainz in 2015. It’s so… Emmy?”
Dan turned around and finally saw her sitting there with a smile on her face. His own lit up as he realised it was actually her, coming across the small room to pull her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders as she pulled him in tightly, their height difference coming into play. She didn’t care that he was in his sweat soaked nomex fireproofs, that he smelled of sweat and fuel and rubber. Dan was there and she was there and despite the cost and hardship this hug was so worth it.
“You’re here?” He asked, barely more than a whisper.”
“Hi, Babe.” She smiled as she leaned against his body wile speaking so lowly that nobody else could hear her. There were times when she was sure that despite being a grown man, a professional athlete, Dan was so fragile that if she spoke too loudly he’d break. This felt like one of those times.
“What are you doing here?”
It broke her heart to take her hands from around his body but she knew he needed to look at her. His hands didn’t release her, just arms extending to give her space. The only real movement he made was to cup her cheek with his right hand, his thumb running along the soft skin.
“You asked me to come, so here I am.” She shrugged casually, acting as if crossing half the world in less than a day to see him was the most normal thing she could do in the world. Even in the surreal universe Dan lived in it wasn’t, but the awe on his face was so worth it. “And I know you’re going to say it so no, I can confirm you didn’t crash and hit your well protected head very hard. You’re not hallucinating. I’m really here. I’m real and a mess and I’ve spent too many hours on too many planes, but I’m real.”
He pulled her body against his before she could even think about it. It was the tightest hug she thought he’d ever given her, even closer than their first hug, but she wasn’t complaining about it. Em had taken three flights and dealt with awkward border patrol just so she could get a hug exactly like this one, so she held on and hugged him back. What she didn’t expect was Daniel to hide his face against her neck like a shy kid. She definitely didn’t expect to feel him place a soft kiss against her neck or his hands running up her back under her shirt as if his life depended on it, memorising every square millimetre of skin. As she felt him squeeze her tighter she just held him closer, ignoring the sweat and grime that would usually make her push him off.
“Thank you,” he whispered. It was so real and sincere that it broke her heart to hear him.
“You don’t need to thank me. I missed you too,” Em confessed. Saying it twice in twenty four hours was a lot for them, but it felt right to get it off her chest. Dan deserved to know she missed him whenever they weren’t together. “But you need to get changed, Babe.”
“What, do I stink too much?”
“Not as much as I do after travelling, but you have your engineering debrief. Go and I’ll have your lunch when you get back.”
She tried to ignore the disappointed whine Dan let out from the back of his throat. She ignored it the same way she ignored the exasperated breath he always released just before letting her go. She knew that little breath the same way she knew the back of her hand or the tattoos covering his thigh.
It was his little “I don’t want to do this” complaint. She’d heard it so many times before, especially early on dark mornings when he had to leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her body against his. It was the same little breath before his inevitable “I wish I could stay” when he had to go back to his hotel room alone instead of falling asleep with her in his arms. It was the same breath he let out when they had their final hug in an airport before she got on a flight to London and he flew to wherever the next race was, even though they just wanted to stay together.
This breath was exactly the same, but instead of letting her go so she could catch a plane, he was the one who had to leave to go to work.
“Are you having lunch with me?” He asked, looking down at her face and moving her hair from her shoulder.
“If you want me to.”
“I always want you to. And I can smell you, you don’t stink.” Dan grinned, stroking her cheek with his thumb and making her smile.
“I really do. I need to steal your deodorant. And maybe one of your shirts. I sort of didn’t pack anything to make my flight.”
“Whatever you want, it’s yours. But I do have a price. And it’s kind of expensive…”
Em didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what Daniel wanted. More than eighteen months of knowing him and almost a year of sleeping with him was enough for her to know his mind perfectly. She didn’t need to ask permission to put her hand on the back of his neck, push up on her tiptoes and meet him halfway to push their lips together. It had been more than three weeks since she’d seen him and she had no intention of flying home without at least one kiss. Even if all she’d gotten was a goodbye one. Blake and Michael had left the room when they were hugging and Em was so glad. She didn’t intend to have a full make out session right there in the middle of the room when she knew Dan needed to get ready and leave, but the second he deepened the kiss she was lost.
She missed this so much. She missed his kisses, the feeling of their tongues touching and the taste of his lips. She missed feeling him smile against her lips. She missed how his hands roamed her body like he was trying to remember every single inch of her even though he knew her by heart now. She missed tangling her fingers in his messy curls, the way he’d moan at the sensation and pull her even closer to him. She missed how he made her lose the entire concept of time because there was nothing better than Dan and being together.
She missed the way her lips turned red and tender thanks to stubble burn that matched the inside of her thighs, the way just that sensation could turn her on. She missed the wetness between her legs that appeared as if by magic when he touched her, and his cocky grin when she begged him to touch her because she was so desperate. She missed the butterflies in her stomach making a mess so big that she would come close to saying out loud what she’d barely admitted to herself. That she’d blurt out he was the best she’d ever had. The best sex, the best kisses, the best man she had opened her heart to and he’d made a home in it.
“Is that enough?” She asked while her lips still touched hers even as she spoke, trying in vain to hide the smile he’d put on her face. He didn’t need to answer, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Daniel and she was so thankful for that because it was never enough for her either. Dan reached to kiss her again, running the top of his tongue against her lower lip, making her moan softly as he did. They stayed like that for longer than they should have until logic came roaring back to Em’s brain and she finally broke their kiss.
“You need to go.”
“Just another minute?”
“I’ll be right there with the boys waiting for you, ok? It’s not like I can go anywhere until I work out how I’m getting home. I’ll see you after your debrief for lunch.” She pecked his lips once before moving away.
“Monday is gonna be a fun day for us, yeah?”
“Go!”
She left the room with one of Dan’s spare tees in her hand, along with a stick of deodorant. Michael pointed her to a bathroom so she could attempt to make herself look more human than she actually felt. A hair tie bunched the shirt at her hip instead of it being a dress, and she could act like she belonged in the paddock with her pass around her neck instead of just tagging along. Michael and Blake waited for her, walking across to Renault hospitality with her and ordering a caramel latte as she sat down.
“Lunch will be over in twenty, Dan should be back by then. Is he ok?” Michael asked, Em nodding as she took a sip of the drink.
“He’s doing better. We didn’t really have a conversation, I just let him get his feelings out. I thought that was more important. I promised him I’d be here for lunch.”
“Will caffeine get you through the day?” Blake asked and she shrugged.
“I think I got about six hours sleep on the flight? We left Brussels at two their time, so nine here. And arrived in Beijing at six in the morning. I’ll need chocolate and caffeine.” The three laughed, Mike putting a sponsor chocolate next to her coffee.
“It’s you, I figured you’d want some at the very least.”
“You know me too well, Mikey.”
Dan arrived as their lunches were being put on the table, sliding into the booth beside Em and hooking his foot around her ankle. His plate of meat and veggies looked unappetising to her, but Dan ate quickly while she picked at her chicken noodles.
“You ok?” He asked, Em nodding in response.
“Just tired. Food’s good though.” She made herself keep eating, letting the conversation and music wash over her as she did. She managed to finish the plate, following everyone back to the garage and standing in the back beside Blake. He handed her a set of black headphones with a silver Renault logo on one ear. The other had Emmy in small silver script. Em raised an eyebrow, Blake smiling at her expression.
“Dan wanted to make sure you could listen to his radio during qualifying and the race, no matter which ones you’re at. So he got you your own headphones.”
When Dan came down in his fireproofs with his race suit half done up he walked over to them, Em reaching out her arms for their hug. He pulled her close before they separated, doing up his suit and putting his helmet on.
“Go fast, Danny,” she whispered and saw his eyes crinkle in a grin, kissing the side of his helmet before he went back to the car and she stepped out from behind the tires to the viewing area. Nico was on his side of the garage getting ready and the last thing she wanted to do was get in anyone’s way.
If she was actually more awake and alert she’d have loved watching the different cars go past the garage. Since she’d met Dan she’d been to more races than she ever thought possible, and seeing the cars drive down the pit lane at slower speeds than on track hadn’t lost its shine. It was still weird to her that she was on nodding terms with multiple drivers, that she was on first name terms with a world champion. But there she was.
Seeing Dan’s name easily into Q2 made her grin, and the nail biting wait to see if he made it to Q3 was painful, but when he did it she squeezed Blake’s hand. It was the first time this season, but he was there. He was starting in the right half of the grid, the intense pride surging through her as she grinned.
Seeing him get to seventh and finish there at the end of qualifying? That was the icing on the cake. The garage celebrated the fourth row lockout for the team after a really solid qualifying performance. As Dan got out of the car he immediately made his way to them, wrapping them all in hugs. Em wanted to reach up and kiss him but they were in public, she couldn’t. It was a hug that lasted for slightly longer than appropriate, but neither of them could care.
They all agreed to head back to the hotel once Dan’s debrief was over, room service dinners and an early night. Tomorrow was too important to even think about staying for dinner in hospitality, sleep before the all important race the plan. Em could feel the exhaustion hitting her, a pilfered Red Bull from outside the energy station that she’d downed between two buildings barely helping her.
“Ems?” Blake asked, seeing how her steps had slowed.
“The jet lag just hit in full force. Ugh.”
“C’mon.” He went to put an arm around her shoulders but Dan got there first, slipping his arm around their waist as the four of them walked out. She was aware of the camera flashes going off but she didn’t care. It was hard enough to keep one foot going in front of the other. Once they were in the car she could hear the debate about where she was staying begin but she stayed out of it.
To her complete surprise it was Dan who won that debate. When he insisted Em should stay in his room because “it has two beds, it means nobody’s sharing a bed”, she thought he was joking. It was clearly an excuse made up for Michael and Blake to believe, but it worked because neither of them said anything about how bad an excuse it was. Friends could share rooms, it was more than fine. Just another little white lie that wouldn’t hurt anyone except Em every time she had to hear the word “friend” while Dan argued.
She pushed all that to one side as she walked down the long hallway of the hotel on their floor, Dan by her side. He had her backpack in one hand, his other one clasping hers tightly. She wasn’t letting herself overthink this. She wasn’t going to put words to her feelings because that was a dangerous road to go down. All she wanted was to lie in bed with Daniel, his arms around her and his lips pushing kisses to her forehead. Once that happened she’d be able to get a good nights sleep. It’d be even better if there were no clothes involved.
At least one part of her dream came true nearly immediately. As soon as the door was closed and the lock was flipped closed, Dan pulled her into a kiss. Their shirts were quickly removed, Dan pulling their bodies together with just her bra in between.
“So this room has two beds, huh? You always take the one by the window, want me to take the other one?” Emma joked, biting her lower lip in an attempt to hide the moan that she knew would leave her lips soon. Dan began pressing a series of kisses along her bare shoulder, reaching up the column of her neck and finishing at her earlobe as he began to speak.
“Nope. It was just a lame excuse to get you in my room. You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep all the way over there,” he whispered in her ear, the shivers going all the way down her body from his lips barely touching her. It was the usual effect of his skin on hers. It happened every single time they were together, but after weeks apart it was always more intense.
“It’s not that far!”
“Too far for me.”
“But it looks comfy?” Em giggled while Dan lifted her and threw her onto the bed, crawling over her until his face was right in front of hers. She stared into his eyes as something in the air changed, Dan leaning down to kiss her. It was so soft it felt like either of them could break at any second, but when they separated he pulled her tightly to him. She knew this Dan. The one who was afraid she would disappear into thin air at any second. It wasn’t hard for her to realise he was still having a hard time comprehending she was right there in his arms.
“I’m real. I promise, Danny, I’m actually here. I’m not going anywhere, Baby,” she whispered, running her fingers through his messy curls and up and down the soft skin on his back. She’d do this all night if he needed the reminder that she was right there with him.
“You mean it?”
“Of course I do. I came all the way to China just to see you so you’re stuck with me. At least for the weekend.”
“More like the whole month. We can make arrangements for the whole year, you can come with us.” It was half pleading and part of her was screaming to say yes even though she knew it was impossible.
“Danny, Baby, you know we can’t. We both have to work, there’s enough going on. But I’m right here for this one, and all the European ones too. Plus you and me in Austin again. Ok?”
“Fine.”
After they ordered and ate their meals they spent the evening curled up in bed with Criminal Minds playing lowly on the tv. It was soft kisses and Em’s fingers running through his hair to make sure he was relaxed. Dan fell asleep holding on to her and Em smiled, more than content to sit there in the quiet.
She didn’t really sleep that night. She never did, really. Not the night before a race she was attending. She was always nervous and pent up, and this night was worse because of how she’d gotten there. Usually she’d be able to relax the week before and get extra sleep, but her change of plans meant she was running on near empty. But she dozed in Dan’s arms as he slept peacefully, and his sleep was the most important to her.
The next morning they woke up to a knock on the door and “Mr Ricciardo, your requests have arrived!”. It was time to get up anyway, their usual making out before getting up replaced with the start of a race day. Michael arrived with Dan’s breakfast - and a chicken and cheese omelette for Em that she yelled a thanks for - before leaving them to eat. As she took a forkful Dan handed over the bag from the hotel to her, watching as she pulled out the contents. Inside were three pairs of jeans, each looking like they’d fit her perfectly. Black skinny jeans, navy skinny jeans, and a pair of lighter blue slightly wider legged ones.
“Danny…”
“You got on a fucking plane to see me because I asked. You left everything behind to do this. The very least I can do is get you some fucking clothes when you didn’t even stop to pack for me.”
“I was going to find somewhere to get something.” She looked at the labels, spotting the brand. “You’re not even sponsored by Pepe anymore. What the fuck, Dan?”
“I know people. I know your sizes, and I know exactly how your waist and ass feel, denim or not. It was easy for me to get them and you need them, right? Please, Emmy. Just accept a present for once?”
“Fine.” She leaned against him before reaching up to kiss him in thanks. It still didn’t feel quite real to her, that her best friend and the guy who she slept with regularly would just do this for her.
They made their way to the circuit in a car together, passes around necks and Dan and Michael in their full black and yellow ensembles. They reminded her of bees, and she made Blake giggle by whispering it to them as they walked behind the others.
“Please say that to Cyril later.”
“Sure.”
Dan and Michael had to disappear for meetings and race planning so Em sat across from Blake in hospitality, pulling out her iPad to get an hour or two of work in. A couple of clients had sent things while she was in the air and at the circuit, so she got to work transcribing what she could when the noise wasn’t too bad or editing the templates they’d sent.
“Nico, hey.” She lifted her head from the screen to see Dan’s teammate sit beside them, the blond man taking the seat next to her.
“Em, right? Dan’s…friend?” His tone was strange but she ignored it, closing her email to actually talk to him and be friendly.
“Yeah, we’re friends. We met through Blake actually. Sorry I didn’t say hi to you yesterday, it was busy. I’m sorry about Bahrain, it was tough on the team.”
“Thanks. You’re only here for qualifying and the race?”
“Yeah.” She smiled apologetically, gesturing to the tablet in front of her. “I had to work until my flight out, have to do some while I’m here too. But it’s worth it to see the race and cheer Dan and you on.”
“Oh,” The word seemed filled with more than two letters could hold. She knew why she was there, she knew Dan wanted her to be there. She could ignore his teammate and be polite when she needed to be. It was fine.
“Ems, formation lap and the race are starting soon. Want to head in the garage?” Blake stood and pushed his chair in.
“Perfect.” She smiled at Nico as she stood, Blake escorting her into the garage as they showed their passes. “What was that for?”
“No idea. Ignore him, that’s what I do.” She laughed and made her way to Dan’s drivers room as Michael was leaving.
“He’s got a minute.”
When she knocked and entered Dan had his headphones on, bouncing to a song, but as soon as he saw her they moved to around his neck.
“Having fun?” He asked with a smirk.
“Yeah, I am.” Em grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Drive fast, be safe, and I’ll see you at the checkered flag.” She pushed a kiss to his cheek for good luck, Dan pulling her into a proper kiss for the briefest of moments.
“I haven’t seen it yet this season.”
“You called me your lucky charm, remember?” His fingers traced over the planchette tattoo on her inner arm, tapping twice at the yes symbol.
“I remember. Gonna make it there just for you.” He kissed her forehead and Em left the room, Dan a few paces behind her.
Watching the race was torturous. The garage was always so loud, the earplugs she wore under the headphones not helping much to dull the noise. She hated the way people’s attention was on her, the tv cameras finding her once or twice during parts of the race with less overtaking. Em hated how her name appeared on screen with “Daniel Ricciardo’s friend”. Netflix had called her that on Drive to Survive for the three seconds she’d been on it, so people had run with it. Now her instagram was public knowledge and people left comments on her posts about watching races she was at. It was so weird to have people invested in her, but it was becoming normal. Ish.
She held her breath for what felt like the entire final lap even though she knew she didn’t really need to. Dan had built up a gap to Checo and watching him come in with those sweet six points in his pocket was beautiful. The entire garage was cheering, Blake’s arm around her shoulders. Even Nico’s mechanics joined in, although their driver was understandably frustrated from his retirement. Em celebrated along, watching as Dan was swept up in delight.
It felt as sweet as Monaco, proof that two retirements didn’t matter because he’d done it. He’d gotten Renault on the constructors board and those points were his, from a car that arguably shouldn’t have held off the rest of the midfield for so long. Because that was her Dan and he was a talented driver. She watched everyone congratulate him, Dan searching her out to give her a hug.
“Best good luck charm ever.”
“I did try!”
Em kept an eye as he left the garage to go for interviews with a grin on his face. He’d led the midfield for the entire race and didn’t let anyone past him. He’d kept his cool and she got to see him be so happy. What else could she really want?
They spent that night at a restaurant trading bites of food, the four of them relaxed and enjoying it. The original plan had been for Michael and Blake to head back to England on Monday morning, and Dan to go to LA where Em would meet him. Now he was staying in China for a few extra days with her. Until when, she wasn’t sure, it depended on whatever madcap route she could get to go home. Her credit card was about to take a beating, even with the LA flight refund arriving in her bank account.
The next morning Em woke before Dan, pulling out her iPad and siting at the desk to try work out flights. He startled her by putting his hand on her shoulder, leaning over before sitting down in the other chair.
“What’re you doing?”
“Trying to work out what flight I’m booking to get home? There’s a bunch of random budget airlines I can try, but the idea of being lost in Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan is a little worrying.”
“Why Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan?” He butchered the pronunciation and she smiled, bringing up her travel app to show the route she’d built.
“I can get from Shanghai to X’ian, and then X’ian to Bishkek. After that it’s kind of a crapshoot to get home depending on if I go through Russia or not, but I think I can go from Bishkek to Istanbul and then do Ryanair flights from Istanbul to Milan, and Milan to London. It’s just over two days of travelling, but I can make it work and I’ll be home by Saturday.”
“But we’re going to Coachella this weekend?”
“I can’t, Danny.” The way he was looking at her killed her inside and made her want to cry but she had to keep it together. “I’ll pay you back for the ticket if you can’t sell it, but I can’t make it.”
“Why not? I’ll book your flight from here to LA now. We’ve got our tickets, you’re staying with me. Yeah you’re not using the flight out but you’ve got the flight home. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t afford it.” The words hurt to admit, Em letting her hair cover part of her face. “I booked a last minute flight to China, Danny. I had to make a choice so I cancelled my flights for LA. I’m just going home. Not all of us get paid the big bucks. It’s fine, I’ll see you when you get home.”
Money was always the thing that had been an unspoken potential disagreement with them. She’d argued with him time and time again about all the things he paid for when they were together, the presents he bought. The way he’d paid for their flights to Australia for Christmas and wouldn’t let her contribute. The constant arguments about him wanting to pay for her birth control. She hated admitting she couldn’t afford something. His eyes hardened for just a moment before pulling her over to him for a hug.
“Emmy. Never feel like you have to do this again. I’m so, so fucking glad you’re here. I’m so glad that that you came, but if it means you worry about money then don’t do it. And I’m paying for your flight to LA.”
“My outfits and everything are at home.”
“I’ll get you new ones.” He pressed a kiss to her to make her smile.
“The flights?”
“I’m booking you on my flight and you’re coming. And on my flight home.” Another kiss with another disagreement.”
“I don’t have anywhere to stay.”
“I own a fucking house there and you’re using somewhere to stay as an excuse? Seriously?” She smiled and reached to kiss him, staring right into his eyes.
“Dan…”
“I want you to come.”
“Danny. I just…”
“Emmy. If you really, really don’t want to go then that’s fine. I’ll book you a flight straight back to London, a direct one, and you can head home. But if this is because of your pride or you think you don’t deserve it or you don’t want me to spend money on you then I have some bad news for you Baby Girl. You’re worth every single penny I spend on us. That’s why I get paid way too much money so I can spoil us like this.”
“I don’t want to be a burden. You pay for everything. I don’t. I’m not your friend because of money or your job or any of that. I never want that to be a factor between us.”
“It’s not one.” He stood, lifting her easily and moving them to the bed with her perched on his lap. “Em I get paid way too much. Plus there’s sponsor deals and everything else and I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to worry about money. You are so important to me. So I’m paying for this flight and I’m sending the money for your flight out here because it’s my fault you’re here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I don’t want you spending two days travelling when we can go together. Ok?”
“Ok.” He pushed kisses to her face, Em grinning as his hands slipped under her shirt. “Having fun there?”
“I have a beautiful woman on my lap, I’m only human. Plus, we didn’t exactly get to enjoy ourselves last night.” He caught her lips with his, her shirt pulled off and Dan immediately moving to cup her boobs. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Her lips immediately went along his jaw, Dan’s hands pushing their underwear down. He lifted Em up slightly to push her panties off, a rip heard through the room. “Please tell me you didn’t rip-“
“I’ll get you a new set. Promise.”
His fingers were immediately playing at her clit, rubbing soft circles as he teased her. Em gasped, desperate for him to push at least one finger in but he held off.
“Gonna be at Coachella with me, Emmy? Gonna spend a week with you and me and the sun? I can’t wait to be there with you and dance with you, get to see you in your sparkly brilliance. You never even realise how good you look, do you?”
“Danny please. Don’t tease me.” All she wanted was to grind down on him, desperate for friction and movement. He set her body on fire so easily, Em holding onto his shoulders as she moved without realising.
“But it’s so fun. It’s more fun when I do this though.” Without warning he began fucking her with his fingers, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Dan had learned every single way to get her off in the last year and this was a sure fire way. Two fingers twisting and hitting the perfect spot inside her, his thumb or tongue on her clit depending on the position they were in. Her quiet moans got slightly louder, Dan’s kisses on her neck encouraging them. He loved hearing every sound she made, the ones she’d forced herself to be quiet about for too long.
“Right there Emmy. I’m not going to fuck you until I get to feel you cum at least once. Right there such a good girl for me, aren’t you? So pretty like this. Just let go, Baby. Let me feel you, let me hear you.”
Between the words and the sensations Em came with a low groan, her lips pressed to Dan’s shoulder as she shook with desperation. He fucked her through her orgasm, continuing to murmur in her ear as she came back.
“Thank you,” she murmured, Dan kissing her.
“You never need to thank me, Baby Girl. I’ve got you.” He pulled his fingers away and Em licked at them to clean them, watching his face light up before he pulled her for a filthy kiss. It was Dan and her and she’d never thought anyone would want to kiss her when she tasted of herself but he could never get enough of that. She moved slightly, feeling Dan line himself up and slide into her as she sat down to take him fully.
That was the sensation she loved. The slight stretch, the way he felt so perfect in her. The gasp he let out every single time. Usually like this they’d take an age to just be close, but instead she knew it wouldn’t be as slow as normal. His lips were against her shoulder, sucking a mark she knew would last. She should argue, but it was too good. Until she rolled her hips and they both began to move.
It was soft kisses and touches, Dan making sure she was well on her way to a second orgasm and taking pride in it. She was holding it back barely, determined to keep things lasting, when the worst thing that could happen did.
The door to the hotel room opened and she heard Michael begin to speak as he walked in.
“Mate do you not check your phone in the morning? I thought we were I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THIS!”
“Get out!” Dan yelled, pulling a sheet around them. His hands had been covering her boobs, playing with them at the exact right moment. Em pushed her face into his neck, hiding herself away.
“Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck?! USE THE DAMN DO NOT DISTURB YOU ASSHOLE!” The door slammed shut and Em stayed still, holding onto Dan. This was her worst case scenario. They’d been so careful to keep this hidden, to make sure the boys didn’t know that they were sleeping together. And in one moment they knew.
“You ok?” Dan whispered to her, his hands running up and down her back.
“Mortified? That was pretty much the thing I didn’t want to happen.”
“It’s gonna be fine. They won’t say anything, I promise. I won’t let them.”
She kissed Dan harshly, pulling his face to hers. Of course he was making sure she was ok. He always did that for Em. His hips thrust up and she laughed, moving back against him.
“Not even getting walked in on is stopping us, is it?” She giggled, Dan laughing back at her while pressing kisses to her cheeks. He turned them over, Em on her back as he made sure to get her back to that second orgasm before he came, the two of them holding each other before going to the bathroom to clean up.
When they came down for breakfast Michael was quiet and didn’t say a word. Things didn’t feel different between them, and it was hugs goodbye to him and Blake as they left for the airport to go back to London. She and Dan were spending two days in Shanghai before flying to LA on Wednesday, and they were going to take advantage of every minute.
They held hands while walking around the streets, Dan letting Em choose their plans. She brought them on a boat trip down the Huangpu river so they could see the city from the water, a selfie of her and Dan one of her favourite photos. They went to the Shanghai Museum so she could see the art from centuries before. Dan watched her watching it, smiling at her excitement. It was a whistle stop tour and she could have spent even more time there, but instead it was curling up in bed at night, sex alone without the worry of anyone walking in on them. Dan had to do some phone interviews but they were simple and she worked while he did. Their last day in Shanghai was a late one, their flight not until nine that night. But instead of worrying about how long it would take they relaxed and wandered the city again.
Em brought him up the Oriental Pearl so they could get photos of the entire city. People ignored them, just looking like any other Western tourists. It was different to being in Perth or parts of Europe where he was recognised immediately, even if people in Perth left him alone with a nod of recognition.
Instead it was to the airport, checking in with her clothes in Dan’s case. They settled in the lounge as Em people watched and they ate dinner, preparing to nap for a little while at the start of the twelve hour flight.
“You know before I met you I’d never travelled anything except economy?” Em said, taking a sip of the Coke Zero in front of her.
“You deserve it. It’s a long flight, we don’t get into LA till like six. I’d rather we can be comfy before getting to the house and relaxing.”
“Yeah, but still. Just weird. I feel like I’m being spoilt here.”
“And you deserve all of it.”
Sitting into the plane and being greeted by name Em just smiled, watching as Dan sat in the pod beside her. How could she want anything else?
Taglist: @dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav
#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo oneshot#daniel ricciardo imagine#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#formula 1 oneshot#formula 1 imagine#formula one oneshot#formula one imagine
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So I love Michael Caine Alfred from the Nolan Batman films bc of his accent. I have no idea if he was trying to hide it or not but Alfred having a cockney accent just scratches my brain right.
Anyway what if every Alfie has a cockney accent and normally just covers it up with his posh butler voice, and every now and then when he's really angry or overly tired it just slips out? Can you imagine how fucking baffling that would be the first time it happens in front of each of them? Imagine him being so angry he starts talking in Cockney rhyming slang and the batfam just scatters bc that's their cue to FLEE
#I love taking contradictory bits of canon from different continuities/universes and finding headcanons to sort of smooth them together#its like a treat#alfred pennyworth#bat family#batman#dc comics#dc batfam#dark knight trilogy#michael caine
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Headcanons about Tangerine: being with someone who is a virgin? And\or someone who is not used to be treated with love and considered beautiful?
Tangerine headcanon if his girlfriend was a virgin -
warnings: sexual content
- tangerine has always put how you felt and what you wanted first, before anything else. He would make sure that you were comfortable in every way
- he has a mouth on him, and typically uses it to coerce, charm, or cuss out Lemon. But his favorite use is to compliment you. He tries to make sure he tells you how beautiful you are to him as much as he can, he just wants you to know it. Wants you to see yourself the way that he sees you
- he is a gentleman after all. He and Lemon had an excellent mother figure growing up. Both are proper mama's boys. [Although, they know if she knew their actual occupation she would drop dead. So, that's really the only lie they tell her.] But with her strong influence on them, she taught the twins how to respect women
- he knows you love him and this is all new. Insist that you take it at your pace, and your pace only
- he’s hot-headed and easily provoked, no matter how mundane an issue is. Immediately claiming a person is stupid or inept. But not with you. He takes his time. When make-out sessions get steamy, he checks in. He wants to make sure you’re okay with the pace of things
- if you’re not, he stops or slows down. He doesn’t lose his temper or claim you’re a tease. He doesn’t want to push you away by being cold or snapping
- with all this emotion he has there isn't a question that Tangerine would be the most passionate lover
- he'd love kissing you, loves the way your lips feel. He gets so turned on by simply kissing you, and gives you a bit of an ego boost when he shifts uncomfortably in his jeans
- when you’re ready for sex, he makes you promise that you’ll tell him if you want to stop.
- even though you'd agree, he'd watch closely for any visual cues of distress
- but once you start there's no way in hell you'd ask for him to
- his fingers are fucking magical
- he'd rub over the fabric of your panties. You'd twitch at the foreign touch and try closing your legs
- some of his cockiness is bound to slip out, like “You are already so wet, and I haven’t started.” But his eyes are soft and there's gentle pressure on your hip; soothing over your skin. Reassuring you that you're safe with him
- he'd ease you into it with lots of foreplay, licking, and kissing
- you’re wet and warm, and Tangerine just wants to be balls deep within you, but he also wants to get you comfortable
- he'd lift you up a little so his cock can slide in easier and deeper
- tangerine would hold back. It's very hard for him to control himself once he's in you
- he has to take breaks every so often to compose himself
- but he cares more about getting you off first than himself. He wants to make you feel good. That’s all part of the pleasure for him
- his face would be tight, almost stern looking, reflecting his focus on helping you reach your orgasm first. But in contrast, his cockney accent [which gets increasingly whiny the closer he gets to cumming] would be purring out praises for you
- when it's all over, he'll ask if you're okay for the millionth time
- he'll settle down beside you, wrapping his arms around your body
- overall, he’s just very sweet. The complete opposite of the persona he has on a job or bickering with Lemon. Your first time would be filled with constant kissing and reassuring you. Praising you and just making you feel good.
#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine headcanon#bullet train smut#asks#requests#tangerine smut#headcanon#bullet train
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Hey pillo my sweet little bean can you tell me what kind of accents you characters have?
(I'm just curious 🤔)
Honestly this is a great question, because (aside from a few exceptions) I am unsure myself! Only a few of my characters have a set nationality, the rest are just vaguely there . Im not even sure where the story itself takes place. I’m honestly more curious to see if you guys have any headcanons lol.
As for the characters who *do* have an accent… Judas is very cockney, but tries to hide it because people used to make fun of him for it. With time he got less shy about it.
Samson is Italian (bc I’m projecting lol) and bilingual, so he usually slips up sometimes. Also he’s from Veneto bc he’s loosely based on my partner lol
I don’t really have strong ideas about the others tho! Eden definitely doesn’t have an accent, and their voice actually sounds different every time they speak with someone. It can sound deeper to some, while higher in pitch to others, and they always have a weird cadence that doesn’t seem entirely human.
Azazel *does* have an accent but I haven’t really decided on which one T.T and it would also be very mild, because he spent so much time with humanity and their ever-changing languages.
Cain is an immortal who has learnt a lot of languages, so his original accent is now lost to time. His first language isn’t even known, and he probably completely forgot about it. Same goes for Lilith, although she still remembers her first language, it is not a human one and only she can speak it.
Eve could have an accent since she’s Middle Eastern.
Isaac’s voice claim is Ted Nivison, so that one I guess. I don’t really know much about American accents T.T they all kind of sound the same to me sorry.
As for the rest… I don’t really know! I might think about it if I come up with different nationalities for the others, but until then I have no idea :( I do wonder if people have headcanons about my characters’ voices tho, what do my characters sound like in your head?
#also it’s almost midnight here lmaoooo I’m tired#sorry if this is all over the place#reincarnation au (working title)#tboi reincarnation#tboi au#ask tag#lore post
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Kamen Rider Thunderbirds Chapter 5: Anything Goes! - Part 1
(Prologue, ...)
Hello guys! :3
This part of the chapter I had the most fun with! Its just... well let's just say chaos... XD
@uniwolfcorn @teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @katblu42 @mariashades @room-on-broom @yarol2075 @river-sam2 @llamawrites @etrnlvoid @cosmic-orchaid
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“Why does food in America has to be so bloody expensive?” Koji huffed in annoyance.
“Is there a place where you can find food for cheap?” asked Recko, looking semi-curious.
“Mate, we wasted less money on it elsewhere before we came here!” his friend pointed out, his British accent grew sharper at his growing irritation.
Yuuki and Taira giggled their friend before turning back to their cooking.
“Yā~, I can’t wait for Sakiko-chan to join us this afternoon!” Taira grinned excitingly as he was preparing a big chicken.
Yuuki nodded as he cut holes into the fat of the pork steaks, then beating with the back of the knife to tender them.
“I think she promised us she’ll bring the Beaver Tails?” he gave a bashful smile.
“I hope she will!” the optimist nodded, giving the chicken a little smack of pride.
As if expecting it, Taira looked over his shoulder to smile at his friends in the living room.
Recko was grimacing in disgust, “Ew… Why are you eating this?”
“Uuh, isn’t it illegal to bring meat across the borders?” asked a rather perplexed Koji.
“It’s the Canadian sweets, we were talking about! And no, we don’t want to bring anything deadly across the boarders!” the optimist grinned, prompting a fit of laughter in the room.
Taira let the chicken roast in the oven, and Yuuki deep fried the pork pieces after covering them with batter and breadcrumbs.
The smell flowed across the apartment, entering the nostrils of the poor Raider, who was laying down on the bed with begging eyes, even whimpering of pity.
Noticing, Recko went to his canine companion to reassure him that he’ll get a nice and delicious meal soon.
Suddenly, a growling noise echoed the apartment, taking everyone’s attention to Koji, who was carrying the rest of groceries to the kitchen.
“Oh dear! Hunger struck me,” he held his gut with a modest look.
“You should eat something. Some snack?” Taira suggested as he took the groceries.
“Oh! I know!” Koji smiled as he dove his hand into bag. He then pulled out a well sealed metal can. “Ah, my favorite! Canned beef steaks!”
“Not surprised…” Recko smirked in amusement, becoming aware of Raider wagging his tail at the sight of the can.
“I used to eat this Shiitake a lot, man!” his friend grinned, “This stuff is one of the things that are tasty, growing up in England.”
“I thought they were… Meh…” Yuuki raised his hand and lightly shook it side to side.
Koji chuckled as he clasps his hands and rubbed them eagerly in preparation.
“Ah, say what you will about canned beef steaks; a man’s disgusts are another man’s delicacy!” the ex-cop licked his lips.
He began searching for something to open it.
He found a can opener, a small kitchen knife and a fork. But for the last five minutes, and to his horror, he finds that the can opener was broken, the small kitchen knife snapped in two, and the fork bended!
“Let me open it,” Recko volunteered as he took the can from Koji, who ran off to the other room to grab one of his useful tools.
After trying his best to tear the lid open with his bare fingers, the biker kid stared at it with a cold stare.
“Who the heck makes it like this?” Recko uttered in a cold tone.
“H’Oh, for Kouta’s sake, man! Let’s h’open h’already!” outraged Koji with his sharpest Cockney accent as he came back, grabbing the can and attempted it to open the stubborn lid with his battle knife.
Suddenly, the tin container violently slipped out of his hands, ricochet a wall before it hit on the shoulder of a semi-suspecting Yuuki.
Horrified, Koji immediately ran up to his poor downed friend, “Ah! Gomenasai*!”
“Daijobou~…*” croaked Yuuki, rubbing the blossoming bruise where he got hit.
Taira picked up the offending can and chuckled, “Looks like we got a stubborn one!”
“Any ideas left?” Koji asked with a desperate expression.
“I have a plan! Maybe… I could use my powers to open it?” Yuuki lifted a finger like he just had a lightbulb lit up in his head.
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, buddy,” Taira pulled face of uncertainty.
“It is not,” deadpanned Recko.
“We have to at least try!” the young cook replied, taking the offending item from his friend and placed it on the tiled floor.
With a deep breath, Yuuki’s eyes glowed bright golden as he stared directly at the lonesome can of beef steaks. His hair rose and waved in the air, as if gravity gradually lost its effect as the universe around him ceased to exist momentarily.
At first, the tin container slightly shook, growing more violently. Then, it bulged and twisted at the sheer force of his power, seemingly ready to be torn apart.
Realizing what was about to happen, Taira suddenly yelled, “Abunai*!”
An explosion rumbled in the kitchen, followed by a ringing silence.
“Was that your plan – lick it off the walls?” Recko deadpanned, wiping the pieces of meat off his face. He then looked down at his dog, who was licking the food off the floor happily.
“Oh…” Koji whimpered as he looked around the room, seemingly about to cry.
He thoughtfully took a piece of meat of Taira’s surprised face and put it into his mouth. He swallowed it and let out a sigh of disappointment.
“Uuuhh… I have cabbage cake if you want,” Yuuki grinned sheepishly.
The ex-cop turned and smiled faintly.
“Thanks, I don’t feel hungry anymore… And we should probably clean up before Sakiko comes in.” He added, following the sight of a poker-faced Recko, who was looking with grim silence at the ceiling.
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*Japanese translation:
Gomenasai = I'm so sorry
Daijobou = Its okay
Abunai! = Look out!
#Kamen Rider Thunderbirds series#my fanfics#fanfiction crossover#thunderbirds fanfiction#kamen rider fanfiction#thunderbirds#thunderbirds 1965#kamen rider#thunderfam#kamen rider fandom
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