#randoms arse gif ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queers-gambit · 8 months ago

Text

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

prompt: what happens when Tangerine's little lady is targeted in their home?

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 9.1k+

note: this got away from me. like wtf is this plot, Cherry?

warnings: author still runs with Tangerine's name being Aaron and Lemon's being Brian. inspired by GIF, established relationship, Russian Mafia vibes, physical violence / assault, blood, character injury, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Tan and Lem standing on business.

The skirt of the designer dress fanned around your thighs when you turned swiftly from the stovetop to a separate counter in order to collect the chopped vegetables. Light music filled the space between the sizzling of different dishes cooking, bare feet sticking to the linoleum floor of the kitchen.

"Right," your sweetheart, Aaron, announced as he jogged down the glass stairs while fixing his cuff link, entering the shared space, "know I hate t'do this, love, but I promise we won't be long."

You smirked, "Uh-huh, and where have I heard that before? Oh! That's right, when you - "

"Oi, oi, oi, you know I ain't mean to disappear in fuckin' Kyoto for 6 weeks, love," he repeated in exasperation, "please, stop holdin' that against me."

"I'm not," you sang in a singsong voice, dropping the vegetables to the stir fry you were preparing, "but you know, you say you won't be long, and then you disappear for random amounts of time."

"You know why," he sighed, buttoning his suit jacket as he closed the distance between you, "and you know it ain't my choice."

"Yeah, yeah, job first, girlfriend second."

"Not even close t'what my priorities are," he smirked, snatching your hand to twirl you around and tug you closer to face him. You grinned up at him, hands landing on his chest; letting his arms lock around you to keep you pressed against his impeccably sculpted body. "You look so beautiful tonight," he whispered, eyes flickering over you, "just love you in this dress. Could ravish you right here, right now."

"Yeah?" You cooed, "Recognize it?"

"Hm, feels rather expensive," he pet around your hips and waist, cheekily moving them around to grip both arse cheeks; causing you to gasp lightly, "thinkin' I must've gotten it for yah. Huh?"

"From Paris last month," you chuckled.

"Ah, yeah, I remember. Lemon was right hacked off we spent so much time shoppin', but no way was I gonna come home without something for yah." He sniffled and patted one hand in a gentle smack on your bottom, continuing, "Now, listen, sweetheart, I know tonight's real important to yah, so, I promise, Lemon and I will be back before the main course, yeah?"

You tisked, "Don't fucking call him that, you know I hate it."

"Apologies, lovely girl. Listen, I won't have my phone on, so, you need me, call Brian - "

"'If I need you'? See, now it's sounding like you're gonna disappear again, Aaron," you complained. "What the hell's this job anyway?"

"Nah, don't worry 'bout nothin'," he promised, "'cause we'll be back in time for your li'l dinner party."

"You know tonight's important for us - both of us!"

His eyes rolled, "Yes, yes, t'finally get your father's approval, right?"

"More like my whole family," you reminded with a roll of your eyes. "Goddamnit, I knew you weren't gonna take this seriously - "

"No, hey," he soothed, squeezing his hands to gently jostle you into silence, "tonight's very important to me, darlin'. I swear it, yeah? We'll be back in time, promise you."

"Good, you better."

"But in case, call Brian - "

"Aaron!"

He grinned, watching your own lips spread, "Jesus Christ, can't take a joke no more, can yah?"

"Maybe on less important days."

"Duly noted." The apartment's buzzer sounded, your boyfriend sighing, "Right, then. That'd be Lem - aht, ahem, Brian." He frowned, "Feel bad skippin' out on yah like this, but duty calls, baby."

"Mhm," you hummed, lifting on your toes to peck his lips. "Just be careful, please."

"I always am."

"You literally crashed a Bullet Train into an entire village - "

"Told yah, that was the Ladybug twat!"

"You also got shot! A centimeter to the side and you'd have bled out your fucking jugular."

"Again, the Ladybug twat."

"Potato, po-ta-toe."

Aaron chuckled, kissing you again, his mustache tickling your skin; groaning in annoyance when the buzzer sounded again - but for a prolonged time. "All right," he pulled back only to peck your lips again, "I'm off but I'll be back real soon. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good without me?"

"I have to be," you teased, petting the lapels of his suit jacket and readjusting his tie. "Go, before you give your brother a fucking aneurism."

"Right," he chirped, pecking your forehead with a loud smooch. Swiftly, Aaron reached over to pluck a carrot from the wok, hissing from the heat, "oh, hot, hot, hot!" You swatted his bottom as he stepped away, eating the veggie, knowing you hated when he sampled your cooking while in the midst of actually cooking. "Mh! Tastes divine, sweetheart, maybe a bit more garlic. Love you!" He called over his shoulder, dropping a quick wink.

"Love you," you repeated, smiling; feeling lucky in love. You watched him go; his curls slicked back, classic navy blue suit on to make the crisp white button-up stand out, his shiny dress shoes winking at you. With a sigh, you focused again on prepping an admirable meal for the evening, planning on hosting both your divorced parents, their partners, and three older siblings.

Obviously, as the youngest kid, any and everyone you dated fell under heavy scrutiny.

The plan was to shmooze them into accepting Aaron as your lover, something your father and eldest brother were specifically vehemently against. But you weren't a little girl anymore, they couldn't dictate who you loved, but you could do your part to make your contract killer boyfriend more appealing to your kin. Easier said than done, but tonight was about at least trying.

So, you cooked a series of dishes to present on the grand dining table your boyfriend had furnished your apartment with, yet never utilized. Humming to the music, you hopped around the cooking space, and about an hour later, the apartment's buzzer was sounding in an obnoxious echo.

Dusting your hands off, you rushed to the comms system and pressed the big green button that unlocked the door building's front door. You left the door to your flat unlocked for easier access, rushing back to the kitchen to finish plating dinner. Not a minute later, the door opened and in walked your family; bottle of wine in your father's hand and a bouquet of flowers in your mother's.

Your father, Edward, had his newest wife on his arm; in the tallest heels you ever saw and a dress made of sequins, being far too short for this kind of event.

You mother, Linda, powered walked ahead of everyone with her boytoy of the month kept a close distance to the matriarch. He was probably just a few years older than you - but you were dating a contract killer agent, there was no room for judgement.

Your eldest brother, Robert, or better known as Bobby, entered with an aurora of arrogance; instantly looking around and judging your home unfairly. You sister, Mabel, just looked stony and stoic; completely bored of that night already. Lastly, your brother older by just a single year, Jonathan, or John, or John Boy, followed behind your siblings, wearing a thick gold chain against a classless wife beater.

"Oh, I'm so glad you made it!" You squealed, opening your arms and practically skipping close to greet your parents and their partners. "About time, don't you think?" You smiled at your father, hugging him first and kissing his cheek.

"Well... Guess better late than never," he begrudgingly agreed. "You remember my wife, Crystal?"

"Of course," you tried to politely smile and offered the fake-blonde a greeting kiss to her cheek, "lovely to see you again."

"Thanks for the invite," her tired voice drawled; indicating she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

"Mum," you moved along, hugging and kissing her cheek, too. "You're look fit."

"Thank you," she sighed.

Looking to her boyfriend, you greeted, "Thanks for coming, Keith - "

"It's Toby."

You blinked, "Huh?"

"Name's Toby," he explained.

"Right, right, Toby, my fault," you apologized, ignoring the look he sent your mother as you greeted Bobby, Mabel, and John Boy.

After, your father stiffly asked, "So? Where is he? This boyfriend you want us all t'like so much, huh? Not even out here to greet us?"

"Running an errand, but he and his brother will be back for dinner."

Bobby scoffed, "So, we do all this for him and he's not even home? Wow... Real stand-up guy, innit he?"

"You're also here to see me, aren't you?"

"We see enough of you, we're here for your dumbass boyfriend you're so enamored with that you missed Christmas last year."

"Bobby," you warned, taking your mother's flowers and heading back into the open-concept kitchen to locate a vase and fill it with water. "You're gonna play nice tonight or I'm gonna be really pissed," you warned your family, "and I'll cancel the New Years trip."

"Woah, hang on," your sister, Mabel, interjected, "let's not be hasty, the night's only just beginning - no need for threats."

"I know," you smirked at her, "it's called incentive."

"Truly your father's daughter," you mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. Edward just mocked her and handed over the wine bottle; making your mother snip, "No drinks to offer us? Not a very diligent hostess, are you, darling?"

Her sickly sweet tone gave you a cavity, but this was simply how your mother behaved when around her ex-husband - all passive aggressive and holier than thou.

You pointed, "There's an entire cart behind you, there. Help yourself."

"Hm," she hummed, nodding, turning to make herself a hefty bourbon with Toby right behind her.

"Um," Crystal hummed, "do you have seltzers?"

You almost laughed but managed not to, "No, no, just win and whatever liquor's on the cart."

"It's a nice place you've got, love, if not overly expensive," Linda cut off anything Crystal might've said; complimenting you stiffly, looking around as the amber liquid was poured, "bit empty, though, innit? I don't see one single family photo, not a personable damn thing."

"Oh, well, Aaron and I just like the minimalistic aesthetic," you deflected; the truth being, Aaron was constantly on the move for his job, there was no real time or reason to decorate the flat. You began transporting the large dishes on the kitchen counters to the table, your other brother, John, springing into action to help.

To say it was awkward was the simplest way to put it. After pouring herself a second drink, Linda started to trade insults with Edward; both telling the other how pathetic it is to find younger lovers. Mabel rolled her eyes but listened carefully, ever the quiet mouse who opted to observe rather than be seen. Bobby was snooping through anything he could get a hand on; attempting to know Tangerine without outright meeting him yet. John Boy didn't care this way or that, happy to just be involved and set the table for you.

"Chow's on!" You announced, leading everyone to the table and take whatever seat they liked.

"You know," Bobby started, "think it's a bit weird."

"What is?" You asked, handing Mabel the steamed sticky rice.

Bobby gestured around, "The whole thing. I mean, I'm almost tempted to believe you've made this Aaron character up. What kinda man skips out on a family meal like this?"

"A man who has a very demanding job," you snapped, the table still passing dishes around to take their fill. "I didn't ask you guys here to fucking harp on him, I asked you to just give him a chance and get to know him."

"Why should we even bother?"

"Because he's important to me!"

"You honestly think this is gonna last?" Bobby scoffed, shaking his head and passing the vegetables.

"Of course I do, I know how strong my relationship is. What the hell do you expect me to say, do, think, or feel if Aaron and I get married, and my family's feuding with the groom - "

"I beg your pardon?" Edward snapped, making the table go silent. "You're gonna marry this bloke?"

"No, Daddy, he hasn't proposed or anything, but we have been together almost 7 years" you explained. "I just used it as an example. Aaron's going to be in my life for a long time, I'd really appreciate everyone getting along."

"I think that's reasonable," Crystal smiled.

"Oh, shove it, nobody asked you," Linda sneered.

"Could you maybe not be a raging bitch for five minutes?" Edward snapped, dropping the cutlery with a loud clatter. "Don't talk to her like that - "

"The trollop doesn't get an opinion on family affairs!"

"Now that we're married," he held up his left hand, golden band visible, "she does get an opinion. It's your newest toy that shouldn't talk!"

"I didn't even say anything, mate," Toby scoffed.

"I'm not your 'mate', silly boy - "

The table erupted in a busy and loud argument, you slumping back into your chair; listening to your siblings attempt to resolve the feud. You thanked yourself for making the conscious decision to have this little dinner party at home instead of a restaurant; knowing Linda and Edward were never able to resist a good screaming match, even if in public. You sipped your wine mutely, eyes darting back and forth between either sides of the table.

However, they were silenced when there came a pounding at your front door. Three distinct, punctuated knocks of a fist, your mind instantly jumping to thinking it was the police - nobody else knocked like that. You went rigid instantly, brow furrowing, your father asking, "Expecting more company, honey?"

"No," you shook your head, already out of your seat and heading for the door - when suddenly - it was kicked in. Your scream was shrill from shock. The force of the violent entry splintered the doorframe; knob colliding with drywall, indenting it from the jarring movement. You yelped in shock, trying to back up, but there came a flood of armed men that instantly rushed you. You were only briefly aware of chairs scraping on hardwood floor as your family leapt up in shock.

Long gone was the argument, your family mutually screaming in fear.

These intruders yelled in Russian, fanning out to gather you and your family in harsh grips; shoving everyone into the living room. You were forced to sit down, at least one armed man posted for each of you, the others spreading out and searching the flat.

"What's happening? What the hell is happening!?" Mabel squeaked through her huffy breath, the men exchanging a few words before one stepped forward with his gun drawn at the ready. "Please, there's some mistake! Please, please, why are you - what is happening!? You can't do this! We only - "

"You," one of the intruders spoke with a heavy accent and a thick, pointed finger, "quiet." From his utility belt, the Russian produced several zip ties, demanding, "Hands. Hands, together! Now! You understand, eh!? Hands! Your hands! Now! Right now!"

Another henchman barked in Russian, telling you to comply or things would get messy. "Just do what they say," you whispered, pressing your wrists together and presenting them. They were secured tightly, your parents, their partners, and siblings enduring the same, and by the time the last zip was tied, the other henchmen returned.

You identified what was reported: "He's not here, no trace where he went."

"No, hmmm," mused the man obviously in charge, "well, that's all right, his girlfriend is right here." Your eyes widened as the Russian turned to look at you with a sadistic smirk. "Heard he's real protective of you, likes you a lot. Huh? Heard he once broke a man's collarbone for just looking at you - must be very important, yeah. What do you think he will do when he finds you - ruined?"

"You're not gonna do anything," you seethed between gritted teeth, "because you know he'd kill you all. Now, there's been no harm done so far, so there's time to walk away and I'll guarantee he or his brother won't come after you."

The Russian chuckled, "Oh-ho! Hear that, boys? Good old Tangerine's domesticated now. Takes orders from his bitch, and boy, she likes to bark!" Other henchmen chuckled, a few picking at the abandoned dinner. "I think it's time we send him our message, no?" The leader grinned to his men, earning a chorus of agreement.

Your eyes widened when the man lunged forward and yanked you to your feet, yellowed teeth gnashing in your face. "Whole family can watch!" Another intruder barked, curating a wave of laughter, "Call it, uh, bonding? Trauma bonding?"

"Oh, I like that," the leader of the kill squad grinned.

You gasped when the Russian balled his fist and socked you directly in the diaphragm; winding you, bending you at the waist, and giving him the vantage point to rocket his fist upwards into your nose. There was a sickly snap, you whimpering when a different Russian shoved you from behind and forced you to your knees; three different men joining the relentless and savage beating. You were kicked, punched, breaking several bones, being spat on, shoved over, and made to bleed your own blood. Though you hadn't wanted to, wanting to appear strong and unfazed, you cried out when the pain became too much; heaving for breath and praying the next kick to the head was enough to knock you unconscious.

But you weren't so lucky and wishful thinking was simply that: wishful, not applied or actual. Your family begged and pleaded for mercy, flinching when you spat blood on numerous occasions; shoes squeaking when they stepped in the globs. Everyone helpless and powerless in the current predicament, no hero to swoop in and save the day; your family knowing they were yelling into thin air and their words fell upon deaf ears. They could only watch and listen as you took the brunt end of three angry Russian's brute strength.

The leader had lit up a cigarette, watching his men physically assault you with an air of entertainment and aloofness. This went on for several long, agonizing minutes; you eventually going limp. "Hm," he waved his hand through the smoke, inhaling nicotine, "enough, boys, that's enough. She gets it, she gets we mean business." His men complied and backed away from you, letting the leader kneel at your head on blood-smeared hardwood floor. "You tell Tangerine and Lemon who did this, huh? Yeah? You tell them for me."

You spat blood in the Russian's face, smirking in satisfaction when it hung off his nose in a humiliating display of your stubbornness.

"Ah, I see," he wiped the blood clear, regarding it on his hand before bare-knuckle punching your head back into the ground. You were instantly dazed, groaning, the man continuing, "Now that you got that out of your system, you will remember my name. Huh? Ivan, yes? You remember that? Ivan. Fucking Ivan Kostka, you tell Tangerine and Lemon Ivan Kostka did this."

"The fuck does it matter who you are!?" You whimpered, eyes burning and being kept screwed tight. "You're a deadman walking, nobody cares about your fucking name except whoever inscribes your tombstone."

"Because your fruity boyfriend and his twin took something very valuable from me," the Russian leered, "and I have come to collect it back into my possession. You tell them, Ivan did this to you. I want them to know they are not untouchable - not to me. Not to my men. Tangerine can try to protecting you all he wants, but there will always be a time and place to act." Then, he laughed, "Know how easy it was for us to get here? Huh? Bit too easy, I admit. See, we picked up Tangerine's trail and followed him here. All we had to do was be patient for our opportunity."

"Who the fuck is Tangerine?" John was heard whispering to the others, a series of shrugs replying. The Russian gave a new command and several men divided to use their weapons to wreck the flat you called home; tearing up pillows, smashing spider-web cracks to the windows, tossing plates and mugs, overturning a bookcase, throwing expensive crystal glasses to watch the shards scatter.

Ivan continued to explain, "Your stupid fucking family talk so loud, eh, it is miracle they are not in witness protection, huh? We see them at your door, and when you opened for them, oh, it was easy to, ehhh, just follow them inside. Yeah? And now, here we are," he smirked. "I am sorry about this, though. You've such a pretty face, I almost don't want t'taint it," he pet a finger down your bloodied cheek.

"Go to hell!" You hissed.

"Oh, I will be when the Reaper comes for me. Remember, tell Tangerine it was Ivan... Ivan Kostka did this," he gestured to your tattered form, "and that I want my Faberge Egg and little sister back or this will get a lot worse for everyone involved."

You coughed as the man stood, whistling sharply and commanding his men to follow. The moment they were gone, as your family erupted in panicked screams, Mabel raced for the kitchen and snatched up a knife from the counter. Returning, your sister carefully uncut everyone's ties, your mother gasping and dropping to her knees when freed.

"What have you gotten us into, you stupid girl!?" She cried, massaging her constricted wrists.

You manage to mumble before passing out, "Call Brian."

Tangerine and Lemon had been on their own stakeout, tracking a gang of Russians accused of money laundering. He had forgotten to put his phone on the charger the night before, it dying and being left behind at his flat; so when there came a vibration, he knew it was Lemon's phone.

He hate the sound of the vibrations in the cupholder. "Oi, gonna fuckin' answer that?" Tangerine snapped, staring out the windshield.

"Uh, bruv?" Lemon turned the phone for Tan to see, guessing, "It's for you, I'm sure." The contact name displayed your home number.

Tangerine sighed and accepted the call with it on speaker, "Yeah, hello? Love? That you?"

"A-Aaron?"

"Linda?" Tan questioned in curiosity, hearing your mother's soft sob. "What's goin' on? What's wrong? Why're you calling? Where's Y/N?"

"Th-There's been an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"The kind that involve angry Russians looking for some egg and someone's little sister? I don't know - "

"Oh, fuck me! Don't move, we're on our way," he rushed, hanging up. "Oi, fuck this, mate, get us back home," he barked at his brother, "we gotta get back now. Like right fucking now!"

"We can't just - "

"What? Leave our post?" Tan snapped. "Brian, you know where we are right now?"

He glanced outside, "Uh... Little Italy?"

"Fuckin' wanker," Aaron snapped. "No, this shipping yard is owned by the Kostka's - Russian crime family. You heard Linda, means the tip tonight was a set up t'get us away from the flat. They probably moved while we were absent. Now, c'mon, fucking hustle!"

Lemon connected the dots and started the engine, peeling away at a dangerous speed to navigate the city back to the high-rise apartment you and Tan shared. He couldn't explain why, but Tangerine could feel his heart in his throat; a sick feeling taking over at the thought of the Russians setting this entire thing up.

Why send he and Lemon to stakeout the shipping yard? Why remove them from the equation?

Upon arriving at the shattered front door, both men in pressed clothes came to a jarring halt, taking in the sight. The flat was a wreck, literal feathers from pillows still floating in the air, their dress shoes cracking over shattered glass.

Tan caught sight of your hunched body sitting on the couch. "Right, the fuck is this, then?" He demanded, striding up to where your family had surrounded you. "The hell happened? Swear t'God, I'll put a bullet... In... Whoever..." He trailed, pausing when he saw your state. Tangerine slowly squatted in front of you, gently trying to coax your chin up, "Lemme see, darlin', c'mon, c'mon, lemme see, c'mere."

When you met his baby blues, you could only watch as tears filled them - knowing they'd never fall. "I'm sorry," you whispered, throat soar from the beating; making you sound a lot hoarser than ever before.

"For what? You did nothing, love, nothing - couldn't have deserved this, now could yah?" He rushed to comfort, caressing your jaw in both hands to look you over. There was a long gash in your hairline that dripped racing drops of blood down your face. "This is my fault, I know it is, God fucking damn it. Who the fuck did this? Hey? You remember, darling? Remember anythin' 'bout these men?" But you were silent from shock. So, he addressed the room by barking, "Does anyone? What the hell happened here, tonight!?"

Your father cleared his throat before knocking back the last swig of his whiskey. "These Russian fuckers," Ed answered. "Big lot of 'em, too, all with scary lookin' tattoos and fucking guns. Some were automatic." He eyed your boyfriend, "Associates of yours?"

"Fucking hell," Tangerine looked up at his brother, "think they want the Faberge back?"

Lemon frowned, "Possibly, but that's only if - "

"Ivan," you whispered suddenly, Tangerine and Lemon both looking back at you in mild shock. "He said his name was Ivan and he wanted you two t'know there was no hiding from him. He wants back whatever it is you two took."

"Yeah, they want the fucking Egg," Tangerine's jaw flexed as he glared at the floor, sighing deeply, and then looking back at you. "Hey," he whispered, "I'm just glad you're alive and well-enough. Yeah? You're my priority, sweetheart, nothing else matters."

You sniffled, "I'm okay."

"Like hell you are," he shook his head, gently prodding around your bruised face and sighing, "look at yah. You're definitely not okay, sweetheart. Right, then, listen, we'll go to a safe house for the time being - "

"A what?" John asked incredulously.

"A safe house," Lemon repeated, "you know? Somewhere not on record to let us hide discreetly?"

"I know what it is - but why go?"

"Can't stay here, mate, it's compromised," Tan answered with a hardened tone. "Now, you gonna fuckin' stand there, questioning me, or go be useful and get ready to leave?"

"Tan," his brother offered softly, "lay off, they just watched our girl get the shit kicked outta her."

Tan nodded and looked back at you, "Yeah, all right, sorry, love, just a bit on edge. But I'm gonna fix this - "

Robert (or Bobby, he's also known as), scoffed a sarcastic laugh, arms crossed, approaching you and Tangerine. "You takin' the piss? Your fuckin' job is leadin' men t'my sister, breakin' in her own home, givin' her a beatin' meant for you, yah fuckin' twat! Yet that's all you got to say to us? That you're on edge?"

"What'chu want, then, bruv?" Tan snapped, standing to face Bobby. "Huh? Call it an occupational hazard, but just 'cause you wanna bring it up, know that we ain't never had no situation like this before. All right? Excuse us for tryna piece it best together."

"My fuckin' sister's still bleedin', and you're, what? Makin' it up as you go?" Bobby snarled. "You owe us a plan! Somethin'! Fuckin' anythin'! How the fuck are you gonna rectify this situation?"

Tan's mouth opened, ready to retort.

"All right, all right, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, no, no, quit it, cut it out, yah fucking ninnies!" Lemon stepped between them and forced distance between the two men. "That shit ain't gonna help us right now. We all need to think clearly, so let's try not to wind one another up. Yeah? Fair?"

"Fuck you," Bobby spat, "fuck the both of yahs, you're both responsible! Puttin' my sister in harms way! Fuckin' look at her!" He snarled and pointed, "Shakin' like a fuckin' leaf!"

"Yeah, all right, you what, mate?" Tan sneered.

"I'm not your mate."

"I'll just fuckin' handle this on my own - "

"Like hell you are," His brother interrupted. "They fucked with our family, ain't nowhere for them to hide."

Tangerine nodded, then asked, "How many men were here would you say? Ballpark number." It was quiet. "Someone better answer me!"

Linda sneered, "Some 12 or 15 men, most of whom carried assault rifles. Anything you wanna tell us, Aaron? Huh? Why were these men searching for you? What'd you do that was so bad, they hurt my little girl?"

Your boyfriend nodded and looked to his brother, stiffly nodding and stoically demanding, "Let's get fuckin' Biblical, then, yeah?"

Brian clicked his tongue and winked at his brother in agreement, Crystal handing you a bag of frozen peas to hold against your head.

"You're sure it's safe?" You whispered, holding onto your boyfriend like a crutch as you exited the elevator.

"They didn't want our protection, love, 'cause the Russians are after us," Tan answered. "Easy does it," he whispered, opening the door to the safe 'house' he and Lemon kept in downtown London - not terribly far from your actual flat. "At's a good girl, slowly - slowly," he kept one arm around you, the other holding the door for Lemon, who carried several duffels. "Right, see? Nice, ain't it?"

You nodded, still relatively drugged from the hospital you just left. After begging them to come with you, your family outright refused, saying Tangerine and Lemon were bad news and they wanted no part in whatever bullshit was happening; even though it meant leaving you alone. So, Lemon packed up the flat while Tan took you to the hospital, meeting again at the skyscraper that doubled as a fortress.

"Here we are," he sighed, lowering you to the couch; left wrist in a cast, a brace on your ankle, concussion, bandages and gauze stuck to random open wounds that required stitches. "Right," he knelt in front of you, "you saw the lobby, yeah? Ain't nobody gettin' in here without clearance, you're safe. Yeah?" He pushed a strand of hair from your face, hating how it was still crisp from dried blood.

"Okay," you whispered with a nod.

Aaron sighed, "I'm so sorry, love."

"Not your fault."

"But it is," he frowned, "'s all my fuckin' fault."

"Did you really take a Faberge Egg?"

"It's what our employer wanted, so... Yeah. Apparently, it was a right dime piece, thought lost in one of the wars. Very exclusive - "

"Most expensive Egg made," Brian added, dropping a couple of the duffels. "And it's not in our possession anymore, love."

"Fuck would we do with Faberge?" Aaron rolled his eyes.

"Hock it," his brother answered, bringing grocery bags into the kitchen and setting them on the counters.

"And the sister?" You asked, eye once being nearly swollen shut now just red and irritated; looking at him with profound sadness. "What happened to Ivan's sister?"

Aaron sighed, wiping a hand down his face, "She was placed in witness protection, she's an informant f'MI6 and Interpol. They want her 'cause she's been spillin' secrets, gettin' business all topsy-turvy."

"They wanna kill her?"

"Seems so," he nodded, smoothing his hands over both your thighs, "but don't you worry 'bout nothin', yeah? We'll handle this."

"How?"

"We've got a couple calls to make," he alluded, standing to his full height but bending at the waist to kiss your forehead gently. "Try to rest, love, we'll be here a bit."

You nodded and watched him stride out of the living room, grabbing one of the duffel bags Lemon had dropped and brought it to the glass dining room table. He ripped it open as you sunk into the plush fabric of the pillows, but perked up when Brian came into sight. "Here, darling," he set a mug of tea to the granite coffee table in front of you, "just a bit of something for your nerves, yeah? You all right? Need anything? A pain pill, maybe? You look uneasy."

"I'm all right," you promised, trying to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"Mhm," he sent you a look, grabbing the pharmacy bag. "Don't be a hero, just keep yourself afloat. Here," he handed you a little, round, white pill and the tea. "Bottoms up, huh?"

You half-chuckled and did what he said, settling again as he grabbed a blanket and tossed it over you. "How often are you two here?" You asked.

"Ah, usually when we're doin' recon," he answered, handing over the remote. "All the streamin' you could want," he winked, pointing at the TV.

"Oi, mate," your boyfriend called, "thinkin' we should call Kiwi?"

"To stay with her?" He asked, caressing the top of your head affectionately; grabbing another duffel and meet his brother at the table. The London Eye was visible from the window, creating a picturesque scene.

"Yeah," Tan answered, "she's good company, ain't she? Handy with a gun. Usually shoots first, asks questions later."

Brian shrugged, "Couldn't hurt. But I think we need t'call Moss... See what he and The Agency can tell us 'bout Ivan."

"On it," Aaron agreed, rapidly typing on a nondescript laptop. But he paused suddenly, looking up and asking, "You gave her a pain pill?"

"Yeah."

"She should eat with it..."

"I'm right here, you know!" You snapped. "I can hear you!"

"I know, doll, sorry," Aaron sighed, going to the kitchen and grabbing you trail mix - knowing opioids gave you the munchies. "Here, love, just wanna make sure you stay all right," he handed the bag over, dropping to the spot beside you with a heavy sigh. "Listen, uh, we're gonna have some of the lads come over t'help."

"Who?"

"Well, Kiwi's a lass, but she works with us sometimes. She's handy t'have 'round inna pinch. That all right?"

"I'm not one for much company right now," you frowned.

"Nah, don't worry, she'll entertain herself," he chuckled slightly, eyes darting around to take in your appearance. In a low whisper, he breathed, "I'm so sorry this happened."

"You've said that," you half-smiled, placing an M&M at his lips. He accepted the treat. "We knew something was bound to happen eventually, right?"

"Not like this, this ain't acceptable," he shook his head. "Lookit, Ivan's one of them nasty fuckers, traffics narcotics into the country using a series of shipping yards. He's got a whole army at his fingertips, plenty of money t'sustain an all out war if he wants."

"When was the last time you dealt with this guy?"

Lemon joined you two, sitting on the other side of the L-shaped couch. He worked on the laptop now, but sent a look to Aaron that begged him to lie. But often, Tangerine never could to you, so, he told the truth, "Last we saw him was some 6 years ago."

Your head cocked, "That's when we first started dating."

"Yeah," he smirked, stretching his arm around you to bring you in close for both your comforts. "Remember that week you couldn't get ahold of me? I told yah I was on some bloody fishing trip?"

"Mhm."

"We were in Colombia, fuckin' up part of his operation."

Your eyes widened, "Colombia? You mean, this Russian's in league with South America? The cocaine capital of the world?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "but it's taken him apparently this long to get shit straightened out - else he would've come sooner."

"Or he was waitin' until our guard was down," Brian chimed in, rapidly tapping on the laptop. "Intel says... Ivan's been in the country 'bout 3 months."

"And before that?"

"Uh... Looks like... Ah, fuckin' hell, he was in Spain, Portugal, Nicaragua, even fuckin' Trinidad."

"Sounds like he's made some friends," Tangerine frowned. You nestled a little closer, his arm contracting to squeeze you tight. "Send word t'Kiwi and Moss, ask Moss t'bring only The Jailbird."

"Who the fuck - you know what? I don't want t'know," you whispered.

"The Jailbird is a brutal fucker," Lemon chuckled, typing faster, "took out an entire fright train by himself with a single shotgun and only a couple rounds of ammo."

"Brian," Tan warned, shaking his head.

"What? 'S not like she's gonna say shit, you picked the most loyal girl in the world," he grinned, winking at you. "Right, love?"

"Mhm."

"That pain pill kicking in yet?"

"Not yet," you yawned.

"Right," your lover chuckled, handing over the mug of tea, "we've got some work t'do, you sit tight. Need somethin', anythin', just ask. Please," he frowned, "don't try t'get up."

"All right," you whispered, lifting your chin slightly with intent. He smiled and met you the rest of the way, pressing a gentle kiss to your split lips.

The lads went back to the glass table, setting up a network of tools and technology, muttering to one another as they did what they knew to gather as much information as possible.

About an hour later, there was a knock at the door that made you flinch. "It's all right," Tangerine rushed, but pulled his gun in hand, "probably Kiwi - "

"It's me, fuckers!" A female called from the other side.

Your boyfriend checked through the peephole and sighed, holstering his gun and opening the door. "Kiwi," he greeted.

"Tangerine," she rolled her eyes, strolling into the flat with her arms full of food. "I brought lunch! Know you fuckers aren't payin' attention to time and shit. Oh!" She grinned when she saw you, "Oh, my word, you're her! Wow, you're even prettier in person! You know, Aaron's told me all about you - "

"Fuck off," Tan snapped.

"Fuck you," she sent right back, "been askin' t'meet your lady for years now, now I finally get to."

"I wish it were under better circumstances," you offered softly, watching the lass with stark white hair round into the living room to set coffee cups and paper bags down.

"Oh, hi, hello, you gorgeous girl," she grinned, sitting next to you and hugging you softly. You were shocked, eyes wide, but hugged her back. "Oh, it's real nice to meet yah, heard all about'cha!"

"Really?" You asked when she pulled back, "'Cause I didn't know a thing about you until an hour ago."

"Makes sense," her eyes rolled, "them two never talk 'bout shit. Makes 'em good agents, but shit lovers. Huh?"

"I'd have to disagree," you smiled softly, defending your love.

"Yeah," she grinned, "knew I'd like you. Lemon!" She greeted in a cheer, standing swiftly to set one coffee cup out for you and take the rest over to the table.

"Hi, Key," he chuckled, offering her a hug. "Lookin' fit, aren't yah?"

"Just got back from a 6 month stint in the DR," she nodded.

"R&R or mandatory?"

"Rehab," she shrugged casually, "but not for me."

"Makes no bloody sense," Tan rolled his eyes.

"I was there, cozyin' up t'fucking Francisco Juarez."

"No fuckin' shit," Lemon laughed. "How was that?"

"The man's mental, but shit, he's got some balls of steel."

"Jesus Christ," Tan groaned. "Can we focus, please? Where's Moss? Anyone heard from him?"

"Mh," Kiwi nodded, swallowing a mouthful of coffee as you gingerly reached for your own; trying not to strain the shattered ribs you earned. "He called me on my way here, said he was on his way, just had to pick something up."

Lemon and Tangerine shared a look as Kiwi practically skipped back over to you. She happily struck up a conversation, telling you all about how she first met Aaron and Brian on some recon mission in Moscow - the three apparently all tracking Ivan. So, no wonder she was asked to assist on this little mission.

The man named Moss arrived not long after, dropping another duffel in the foyer and silently approaching Tangerine and Lemon. Kiwi waved the behavior off, whispering, "That's one of the bosses. Not a man of many words, just a man of action, yeah?"

You nodded in understanding, accepting the Tylenol she handed you and answering her 20,000 questions. You heard the three men muttering together, papers shuffling over the tabletop and the laptop dinging every time there was new information.

"Oh, holy shit," Lemon gaped at the screen, earning everyone's attention. "You lot aren't gonna believe this."

"What's wrong?" Moss asked, moving to his shoulder and peering over to look at the laptop. "Well... Ain't that interesting?"

"What?" Kiwi asked.

"Looks like Ivan's here for some wedding..." Lemon muttered, tapping on the return key repeatedly. "No shit!"

"WHAT!?" Kiwi snapped, making you flinch. She instantly apologized, "Oh, shit, sorry, sorry, sorry, love, I get a bit excited when outta the loop."

"Ivan's sister's gettin' married," Moss reported, "to the Minister of Defense."

It was quiet for a long moment, the agents stewing in shock. "Well, that can't be good," you whispered to Kiwi.

"Not entirely, just means our jobs got a helluva lot more exciting, though," she grinned, dropping a wink.

Three days. Three bloody days, you've been confined to the safe house. You were under strict orders not to leave out of fear of retaliation, so you remained for Aaron's peace of mind.

Moss, Tangerine, Lemon, and Kiwi were preoccupied focusing on their plan of attack. They figured there be an altercation at the engagement party, designing a trustworthy team to help them infiltrate and keep an eye. The day of the party, you were curled up in bed, reading to pass the time, and when you noticed Tangerine leaning in the doorway, your book snapped shut.

"How long you gonna keep me here?" You asked. "Some of us have day jobs they need to get back to."

He smirked, "I covered for yah."

"How?"

"Said you had a funeral t'go to in the States," he eased, pushing off the doorframe and approaching your side of the bed. He grunted as he sat, sighing deeply, "Listen, sweetheart..."

"Oh, that's never good."

"Just listen," he smirked. "Tonight's the engagement party, so we're gonna make our move."

"Are you sure Ivan's gonna be there? That this is what needs done?"

"We got it worked out, love," he promised. "Just need yah t'stay here with Kiwi. Keep safe, yeah?"

You stared at him for a moment, cocking your head slightly, "Been meaning to ask - why refer to each other's codenames when alone, like we are?"

"Good habit t'have," Aaron shrugged, caressing your head and then petting a finger down your cheek softly. "Hate leavin' you like this, but I'm gonna kill the fuckers that dared touch you."

"I'm not usually one for violence or revenge, but in this case, go crazy."

He nodded and stood with a smirk, stooping slightly to press his lips against yours. There was a solemn tension in the air, foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, him whispering, "Love you, darlin'."

"Love you, too," you answered instantly. "Just make sure you come home, yeah?"

"As quick as I can," he swore.

You learned that day, you hated waiting. You despised being out of the know, having no connection to tell you what was happening on Aaron's side of things. Kiwi was a great distraction, though. She was chipper, talkative, wildly animated; sharing a joint with you, ordering take out that a security guard brought up, and making you watch all her favorite movies.

She checked her phone several times, eventually, you begging, "Any word?"

"Nah, don't worry," Kiwi smiled, "they usually don't give updates when on the job."

Unknown to you, on the other side of town, Tangerine and Lemon were changing into suits the hotel waiters would wear to serve the engagement party. Moss was in a nondescript white van, working surveillance, informing in the headset, "The Jailbird's in position."

"So are we," Lemon reported, nodding at his brother. "Ready, bruv?"

"It's gonna get messy," he nodded, cracking his neck and leading the charge into the event room with trays of champagne. He surveyed the room subtly, seeing The Jailbird working the catering table in a matching suit, and when the couple of the hour entered, it was showtime. However, before springing into action, the trio of trained and paid assassins had to wait for the first move else they'd blow their cover and alert Ivan they were onto him.

The future bride's name was once something traditionally Russian, now choosing to be Veronica, and her soon-to-be-husband, Gerald, was the very man who had established her witness protection. It was romantic, in a way, that the two fell in love; being naughty and a little forbidden, yet still tantalizing. Their families filled the room with the groom's colleagues, security lining the walls - yet being unable to do anything if the Russians decided to attack.

However, the moment Tangerine saw Ivan, he went rigid with anger. "Mate, hang on, don't do it - we have a plan for a reason," Lemon tried to warn, but sighed hotly when his brother stormed off. Into the comms system, he warned, "Heads up, lads, Tangerine's on the move. 'S bouta get real sticky, people, stay sharp."

Tangerine surged up behind Ivan, who was dressed similarly and indicating he, too, was undercover at this event. Tan felt his face redden with anger, tapping Ivan's shoulder, and when the Russian turned, he didn't hesitate to pull his fist back and launch it directly into Ivan's nose. It was the first punch thrown (literally) that spurred the other Russians into action.

People shrieked, heels clattered to flee, and security guards rushed to cover their employers; not knowing who the desired target was. Luck didn't seem on their side that evening as security managed to get Gerald out of the hall, but his fiancé, Ivan's sister, was separated in the stampeding crowd; gunshots making patrons scream in concern.

In their comms, Moss barked, "Veronica! Someone cover Veronica! She's the informant - get to Veronica!"

The Jailbird flipped the catering table to reveal several heavy-duty guns strapped for this very moment. He and Lemon made their selections, Tan preferring his fist; someway, somehow, missing getting shot by Ivan's men. But the Russian gangster was just as angry, fending off Tangerine and even getting a few punches in himself. All for nought, though, because Tangerine had the power of his anger propelling him; your face conjured in his mind, bloodied, making him hit harder - and harder - and harder.

"You! Dirty! Fuckin'! Scum!" Tan punctuated each word with a blow of his fist, keeping Ivan in his grip like a vice. "C'mere! You've done it now, haven't yah, you fuckin' bastard? Fucked up by touchin' my woman! I'll fuckin' gut you!"

Ivan's elbow cracked Tan's nose, making him stumble back a few steps. The Russian grinned, blood outlining his teeth, "She was real pretty, wasn't she, eh? I tried to leave her face for yah! Didn't wanna fuck that up too bad!"

"C'mere!" Tangerine roared, knuckles bloody. However, as he was winding up for another hit, one of Ivan's men tackled Tan from the side and knocked him into a banquet table - collapsing it.

The Russians were in an abundance, yet stood no chance when Tangerine got ahold of a handgun. The Jailbird preferred the larger shotgun, blowing gargantuan holes in people's chests; Lemon keeping it simple and just doing his job by taking out the enemy. It was Tan who was absolutely feral, sprayed in the blood of his enemies and sparing no life he came across; the party's occupants screaming in terror and trying to flee the event hall between gunshots.

"Tan!" The Jailbird barked, pointing off at someone, and when he looked, Tan locked onto Ivan again. The Jailbird located Veronica, trying to save her, but being unsuccessful when a Russian got to her first - disappearing from his line of sight as the chaos rampaged.

Growling, Tangerine started firing single shots to the heads of anyone in his way of his main target, but this time, the Russian saw him coming and was plenty prepared. The blade Ivan used cut Tan deep, filleting flesh; but did not stop the man wanting to avenge his love.

Bodies hit the floor left and right as Tangerine's anger swelled, there not being a single force in the world that could stop him now. Whatever Tan could get his hands on turned into a weapon, finding every single Russian responsible for what happened to you - the love and light of his life.

The engagement party was decorated with white table cloths and white roses, now stained and splattered in blood the longer the fight went. The musicians of the live band had fled, security encountering the Russian that had Veronica and shooting him dead, food covering the walls. Moss had tapped into the security cameras, informing his men when more Russians were racing towards the room; grunting when he threw off his headset, grabbed a gun, and left the van to take out anyone trying to get inside.

Lemon did his best to cover Tangerine's six, but the Russians kept coming in waves; far more prepared than they were that evening. Yet it didn't matter, their numbers might've been high but the anger Tangerine and Lemon felt was a gift from God Himself, spurring them to work harder and smarter.

Once inside, Moss brought The Jailbird to higher ground and strategically shot down their enemies while Lemon and Tangerine operated on the ground. When face-to-face with Ivan, Tan seethed, "You waited 6 years for a shot at me, would've thought you'd try harder."

"Don't need to," Ivan laughed, "I already got you!"

"Didn't get shit - "

"That why your girl's all alone? Don't worry, lad, I sent some boys to go deal with her. C'mon, then!" Ivan taunted, waving Tan in an antagonizing motion, weilding the 6-inch blade. As the two exchanged blows, Ivan laughed, "Never told me! Did you like my li'l gift? How I left your girl?"

Tangerine grit his teeth and used a chair to bash the Russian over his head. "I'll fucking gut you for touching her!" He shouted, people still squealing and screaming in fright.

"You stole my inheritance! That Faberge Egg's been in my family for generations!" Ivan roared, "And my fucking sister! If not for you," he grunted, taking a hacking swipe and missing, "she never would've opened her mouth!"

"Your sister, mate, fuckin' hates your guts!" Tan barked, kicking Ivan back and sending him crashing through a table. "She would've spoke even if we hadn't picked her up!"

"Bullshit!" Ivan snarled, swinging and his blade catching Tan's bicep, slicing shirt and flesh. "My sister knew loyalty! Until you rotten fucks showed up, kidnapping her, confusing her! Fucking brainwashing her!"

"She's the one who hired us, mate!"

"Liar!"

Tangerine earned the upper hand by flipping Ivan onto his back, dropping to his knees, and wailing his fist into the Russian's face. He kept hitting him, even when Ivan stopped moving; flesh tearing, meat flying, bones breaking, and blood spurting in every which direction.

Blood painted his face, droplets racing down to create streaks.

At the safe house, Kiwi was making tea when there came a series of distant banging from outside the flat's door. She met your worried eyes and pulled out a gun, holding a finger to her lips to indicate you to stay quiet. She checked the in-house security system, spying a few Russian Mafia members fighting through the security guards and getting closer.

"Right," she rushed, helping you off the couch, "you gotta hide and stay quiet, love, I'll handle this quickly."

"Handle what? What's going on?"

"They're here."

"A-Are we safe?"

"For now."

"Are the lads!?"

"We'll find out!" Kiwi stuffed you inside one of the closets, assuring, "No worries, I'll handle them, you just stay here. Aaron would kill me if he knew something happened to you on my watch."

You didn't even have time to register that she used his real name; finding no choice in the matter as she shut the doors, and through the slats, watched her brandish a gun. You flinched when you made out the sounds of a struggle and then several gunshots, not knowing who fired them, who was being shot at, or what was happening.

Tears of fear filled your eyes, holding your breath and just waiting with trembling appendages. You hated waiting. You hated not knowing. You hated the tension, the fear, the cultivation of stress.

When the doors ripped open, you gasped shrilly and stepped back into the wall, but calmed when you realized it was only Aaron. And then you realized - it was Aaron!

"Baby," you gasped, leaping into his embrace out of sheer relief; arms wrapping around his neck and being dampened with blood. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, you're okay - you're okay, you're really okay."

"Yeah, 's all right, love," he rushed, one arm holding your waist, the other petting the back of your head. "I'm all right, 's all right, I'm here. I've got yah, love, I'm here now. They're all dead, they're all dead, my love, we got 'em all, you're safe, it's all right. Nobody will touch you again - never again, sweetheart."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You sniffled, pulling back to take both his cheeks in hand and frowning, "Is this blood!?"

"Yeah," he whispered, gently taking your wrists to pull your hands down. "But it's all right, 's not mine. I'm not hurt." He didn't let you answer, rushing, "Are you all right? Hey? Not hurt?"

"No, no, Kiwi - she protected me," you nodded, sniffling. "Where is she? Is she all right!?" You suddenly panicked, but Tangerine shushed you gently.

"She's fine, love, she's safe. Not a single scratch on her. Had most of the Russians down and out by the time we got back."

"And Brian?"

"Lemon's fine," he promised softly, "just cleanin' up in the other bathroom. Which," he smirked gently, "we should probably do the same. C'mon."

You agreed, hating the sight of blood on your man. When in the shower together, you got a look of the cuts and bruises he earned that night; knowing that despite him being the reason you were attacked, he was also the man who would protect you from anything and anyone. No matter the cost.

There was nowhere you were safer.

Watching you wash his wounds in spite of your own, Tangerine realized he didn't need to ask your father for permission - he was gonna marry you. Come hell or high water, there wasn't anything or anyone - be it Edward or Ivan - that could keep him from loving you the rest of his life.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

561 notes · View notes

bapple117 · 8 months ago

Text

Velvette Slang Masterlist: for the fandom

A gift from a humble Brit to anyone (not from the UK) wanting to write Velv convincingly ~

Hello you wayward sinner!

Are you looking to write Velvette into a fan fiction, comic, roleplay or something else? Would you like to make her sound legit but you have no idea about British (or indeed, South London) slang? FEAR NOT! I, Bapple, am here to hold your hand and guide you through the wonderful world of British slang so you can have fun making Velv sound legit. Let's proceed!

Not all of this will be limited to the UK, of course, and it's not an exhaustive list of ALL British slang either - it's just the kind of things Velv WOULD say as someone from South London.

Insults

For men: bastard, prick, wanker, knob, dickhead, wankstain, bellend, git, tosser, sod, cock, pillock, numpty, codger (means old man)

For women: bint, bitch, slag, wench, slut, tart, trollop, scrub

For anyone: arsehole, arse, twat, sket, muppet, minger (means ugly), bugger, gobshite, cretin

The absolute worst thing you can call someone else is cunt - this is very strong and isn't used in casual conversation, unless you are in VERY informal company, in which case it's thrown around like it's nothing at all. (Come here you cheeky cunt - playful)

Terms of Endearment

Babes, hun, luv, darlin', sweetheart, mate, sweetie, mucker, pal, blud, fam, dear, dearie, honey

Eg: "Alright babes? How's it going darlin?'"

British people often use insults affectionately, too, especially with close friends as a way to tease / banter. (You silly sod, you useless prick, you cheeky git, you daft muppet, etc)

Slang Words

Drunk: trollied, smashed, pissed, wasted, legless, hammered, sloshed, battered, bladdered, merry, shitfaced, arseholed, plastered, lashed

Good: banging, well good, mint, the dogs bollocks, ace, blinding, cracking, brill, fab, neat, beast, fresh, hench, jokes (that's jokes innit), lush, peng (good looking), sick, wicked, peak, wavy

Bad: grim, naff, shite, shit, crap, tat (useless old tat), minging, rank, dry, nasty, humming (means gross)

Pleased: chuffed, buzzing, tickled pink, sorted (I'm sorted mate)

Annoyed: gutted, miffed, pissed off, fucked off, fuming, raging, ticked off, well annoyed, bovvered (used more sarcastically eg: I aint bovvered), vexed

Curses

Bollocks, fucking hell, bloody hell, bugger, piss off, any of the insults used above

Other random words

Bare = a lot of (eg bare money)

Chirpsing, grafting = flirting

Garms = clothes

Lips = kiss (are you tryna lips me?)

Peng ting = good looking person / high quality thing

Standard = of course, yeah no duh (Yeah that's standard mate.)

Tight = cheapskate (Don't be so bloody tight!)

Yard = your house (Come over to my yard)

Banter = conversation that's funny, casual, playful (S'just banter innit)

Convo, chinwag, chat = conversation

Defo = short for definite (Oh he's defo up to something)

Other random phrases

Are you taking the mick? = are you mocking me?

Stop faffing around = be serious and stop messing about

That's mad = wow, I can't believe what you just said or that's amazing

Allow it = just leave it, it's no big deal (Whatever mate, allow it)

Other helpful pointers

When British people (who talk like Velv) swear angrily we do so many times in a whole sentence and add a lot of qualifiers, eg:

"Fuck off you fucking prick, you absolute fucking useless arsehole!"

"Don't piss me off babes or I'll fucking end your shitty little life!"

Making a crude observation about something nearly always a curse in-front of it, eg:

"That's fucking rank."

"It was fucking buzzing mate!"

The Magical Use of Innit:

Innit is a wonderful word that can be used everywhere, especially for someone from South London. It basically means "isn't it?" but it has MANY uses. It can be used to mean an agreement, like "I know right?"

"That was well good innit"

"He's a right twat" - response: "INNIT!"

"It's fuckin grim in here" - "Innit mate"

Adding "well" to words

That was well good - that was well bad - that was well grim

(You get the idea)

That's about it for now!

If I think of anything else I will edit this masterlist and if anyone has any questions please feel free to pop them in my inbox. Happy writing!

#velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #the vees #hazbin #hazbin hotel #tips for writers #tips for fanfiction #hazbin roleplay #hazbin velvette #fanfiction guides #writing guides #hazbin guide #bapple chats #bapple guides #masterlist #velvette masterlist #velvette x reader

342 notes · View notes

angelfrombeneth · 5 months ago

Text

EXES - T . NOTT & M . RIDDLE - PART 1

Mattheo Riddle/Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Summary: Theodore and you are exes. You didn't end on a super bad note, but things were said. After 2 years you're at a Slytherin party and get a bit carried away. But with who? ...You decide

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and cursing

Part 1 > Part 2 (Theo) : Part 2 (Mattheo)

You and Theodore had been together from 2nd year to 4th. It wasn't until the pair of you had a huge argument that you called it quits midway through 4th year. You were friends with his friends but you distanced yourself slightly after the break up. Becoming friends with different people. It wasn't that you and Theo were on bad terms, it was more you were young and immature and didn't know how to love properly.

It was now 6th year, 2 years after you both had broken up. It was way better, both of you had moved on - some more than others and could be in a room together without someone getting hurt. But you always find the time to dig at the boy.

You had become friends again with them all, feeling comfortable around them.

"Hey Y/N" Pansy smiled as she leaned against the lockers with Theo and Enzo.

"Hey, you OK?" You smiled as you reached up to unclasp the claw clip from your hair, letting it fall.

"Yeah! We are having a Slytherin party later if you're interested in coming" She smiled at you.

"You gotta be there Y/N/N! It'll be a hit" Enzo smiled.

You laughed at the pair of them. "Maybe not tonight guys, I've got to study" You looked at Theo, wondering why he wasn't looking at you.

"Whats with the face like a slapped arse, Nott?" You quirked your eyebrow up at him.

"I had a dream about you, last night you know" He looked up at you, the way he stared at you as if you two were the only people in the whole hall.

"OK? And I care because?" You laughed slightly staring at him, your arms crossed against your chest.

"It genuinely felt so real" At this point Pansy and Enzo has moved a bit away giving you two privacy, expecting this to be your argument that you have once a day.

"OK? What happened then" You scoffed, tapping on your heel impatiently.

"We got back together.." Theo reached his hand up to his neck, scratching it as he spoke.

You froze looking at him as you burst out laughing, bending over slightly. "What a fucking nightmare!" You giggled as you walked away from him.

Theodore wasn't a terrible boyfriend but he had a lack of awareness. He took the title of boyfriend but didn't do anything boyfriend worthy. No kisses, no cuddles, no anything. The two of you were together for two years and had barely held hands. Yes, you were young, of course you wouldn't of hooked up, but you wanted atleast a kiss. You believe Theo is starting to regret his younger self because these comments became frequent. Very fucking frequent. Despite his weekly turned nightly escapades with random girls - all he could think about was you.

A few days later you found yourself yet again in the same corridor but it was just Theo this time.

"Hey Y/N-" He shouted, you stopped in your tracks to turn and face him.

"What is it Nott" you groan.

"You free tonight?" He looked at you, leaning against the wall. "Slytherin party"

"I guess I can make time" You crossed your arms looking at him. "Who's asking"

"Me duh" He rolled his eyes. "You're amazing ex boyfriend"

"Only ex boyfriend I have is the spawn of satan" You snorted. His face fell and a look of shock took over. "See you at the party, Notty boy" You skipped away.

The Slytherin party was a hit. You hadn't been to one in fucking forever because you just felt weird I guess. The one time you did, you just felt so.. out of place you left early. The drinks were flowing, smoke from the machine but also cigs filled the room. A Slytherin party was the party where everything would go down.

It wasn't even 5 minutes after being there and you felt a hand on your waist. You turn around to see Mattheo and laugh. "You've clearly had too much to drink already, Matty" You chuckle, poking his chest.

"Not enough to keep me away from you" He smiled as you rolled your eyes and laughed. "Dance with me?" You nodded, walking to the centre of the room with Mattheo.

Mattheo is Theodore's bestfriend so you expected when you both broke up for him to ice you out. Surprisingly he didn't it, he says it's because your 'too smoking hot to ignore' but deep down you both have a good bond. The pair of you used to hang out alot because of Theo that you got to know him, really well.

Now hooking up with Mattheo, wasn't a bad idea but you just didn't want to get messy. It wasn't like you and Theo were going to get back on track. But then you did let the idea plague your mind a few times, besides you were looking hot tonight in a tiny black skirt, practically a belt and a bikini top, so why not.

As you danced with Mattheo, his hands were constantly on your waist, moving with your hips to the beat as he smirked down at you. He's quite hot actually. Fuck was it the alcohol?

You pressed your back to his chest as you slowly moved your body down his, grinding your ass into his pelvis as you bent over slightly. Mattheo was feeling it, his hands were all over your body grabbing up on you.

Maybe it wasn't so bad....

Choose your boy:

(Part 2 will include smut no matter which one you choose)

(A hyperlink to the chapters will be posted once they are out)

Mattheo || Theodore

#harrypotter fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin fanfiction #lorenzo zurzolo #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo x reader #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #angelfrombenethfics

150 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

Over Achiever

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

This is just Corny Corn Fluff!

Enjoy!

Next Part >>>

Support me on Ko-Fi!

Sitting on your couch you stared at the stack of papers before you in total shock- it was suppose to be a simple checkup.. not something like this.

You especially felt unsure since your husband wasn't here- He should have been here for something as important as this.. However his missions were important for the world- That and its what you signed up for when you married Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

You and Simon had been married for 3 years and dated for nearly 5 before then, Meeting at a resturant you owned when he showed up during leave to grab some take away. That was the humble start to a beautiful and gentle relationship the two of you shared.

You two had every conversation in the book about what you both expected in life and what the plans were.. This however was not one of them..

"Fuck- I've got to tell him.."

It was still a good month out till he returned and didn't use his phone while out on missions so you knew it was off in his pocket- he needed to know however.. so you figured a letter would be fine- it would be a cute and easiest way so he wasnt surprised with a heart attack when he got home and saw you like that... jumping to your feet you grab the car keys quickly and rushed to the closest store and then the post office- How bad could it be anyway?

WEEK LATER

On the other side of the world Ghost leaned against an outdoor wall, they were just back from their latest mission and had a cool down before the next one.

He missed you- terribly.. he missed his home and truthfully didn't want to be sweating his arse off when he could be with you. It surprised him in truth, before he used missions to escape the idea of a home- However now he was excited to return home... to you.

Simon was still highly secretive however so no one knew he was married, besides Price who had been invited to the wedding. He had to protect you, his little slice of sunshine in a overall dark life.

"Riley, you've got a letter" Price called out snapping the man from his thoughts, Ghost surprised to hear this- He never really got mail even from you since he insisted it was emergency only to avoid any information leaks.

Stepping forward quickly he grabbed the pale blue envelope- Soap now also curious as he peaked at his Lieutenant.

"Oh? Someone special?" Soap teased, however curiosity burning in his gaze.

Rolling his eyes Ghost opened the letter and saw a tiny plain card, a spike of anxiety hitting his chest as he slowly opened the card and felt the air suddently sucked directly from his lungs.

The team watched Ghost eyes widen like big blue saucers, worry now blanketing the group as Ghost closed the card and then opened it again like to confirm.

"Eh, Lieutenant?.. You alright there?" Soap said softly as he stepped forward to touch the man's shoulder. Price and Gaz also getting closer to see if the masked man was okay-

"Y-Yes I'm fine.. move" He grunted out, the men stepping back as Ghost went to step forward before passing out misstep and falling into the dirt.

"Holy Fuck!!" They all yelled as Ghost fashionably face planted into the dirt and Soap and Gaz scrambling to help the man to his legs which had seemed to suddently turn to jello- Ghost wobbling up as his mass seemed to suddently be too much for him, dropping the paper into the dirt which Price quickly scooped up to keep from getting damaged.

"Take him to the medical bay" Price said quickly as they could hear Ghost muttering something about a van and other random shit- worried their hardened killer had finally lost his mind as they dragged him off to the medbay.

Price holding the card in hand and cracking open to take a peak at what just laid out his Lieutenant-

Congratulations!

You Over Achiever!

Si I'm pregnant and they are triplets!

You over achieving Ass-!!!

I love you and can't wait to see you home!

- Love (Y/N) ♡

The ultrasound picture with the clearly labeled 1,2,3 in red over the black and white images. Price couldnt help but crack a smile and chuckle softly as he closed the card- Looking as he saw Ghost still being rushed to the medical bay.

"I'll be damned-"

A tiny cornerstore card had knocked out one of the world's best solders.

838 notes · View notes

whatudowhennooneseesyou · 1 year ago

Text

𝓢𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻: 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓽

Content Includes: Wolf!San x fem!reader, overstimulation, post-rut San, passionate and needy sex, ROUGH SEX, praise (SO MUCH OF IT!), kissing, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (don't do it!), San calls reader 'princess', dirty talk, primal play, size kink, aftercare

Word Count: 1.9 K

You inhaled a long drag of your cigarette as you fidgeted aimlessly on the porch, staring out into the dark abyss of woodland and shrubbery on this lonely night.

He always came back, that was one of the many things you could rely on with San.

‘Come on…where are you?’

You whispered to yourself with bated breath as you finished the last of your cigarette before stamping it out on the ground.

‘Right here, princess’

A squeal of fright filled the air as San’s murky shadow appeared from behind you, muffling your squeals as he buried your face in the warmth of his chest.

‘Shhh, shhh sorry baby, I didn’t meant to scare you’

There was an air of playfulness to his voice as he stroked your hair, pressing little kisses against your temple and shielding you from the crispness of the air.

‘Don’t do that! You could have been a serial killer!’

You swatted playfully at his chest and pushed him lightly, frustration and anxiety evident in your eyes as your mind adjusted to the man in front of you.

‘Mmm’ He chuckled as he began to rub circles into your hips, smirking mischievously at your reaction.

‘Not while I’m here to protect and love you’

The soft touch of San’s lips to your forehead contrasted heavily against his hurried footsteps and the grip on his fingers on your clothed arse as he pushed you gently against the door.

‘I’m just a lonesome wolf who missed his sweet princess while I was gone’.

His voice was slightly whiney as he buried his head in your neck, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck and his voice rumbled against your skin.

‘You don’t want to rest first?’ You bargained, trying to remain logical as your werewolf boyfriend smothered himself against you, attempting to suppress the desire you were already feeling.

‘Nope…not tired’

The latch of the door unlocked and a clamber of hurried limbs and uncoordinated footwork wound up with your back on the carpet, San’s warm and toned body pressing you into the floor.

Heavy pants and sudden anticipation filled the room as you stared up at San, his loving but hungry gaze staring back at yours.

San’s nude torso and back were covered with a sheen of exertion, his black hair messy and hanging in his eyes, fresh jeans now ripped and the veins in his arms and neck flexed and taut.

The limbal rings around his eyes were of an amber hue and now you knew why he was so needy, his body had shifted back to being human…his mind…not so much.

‘Are you hungry?’

The question was asked out of kindness for San’s wellbeing but then San raised his eyebrow and shifted his hips against yours suggestively.

Yeah, you definitely walked your way into that one…or ran.

‘Everytime I’m with you princess’.

San leaned down to press his lips against yours.

And he was hungry, his kisses were desperate and dominant as he pried his tongue into your mouth, teeth nipping into your bottom lip, his hands supporting himself as he pressed his weight against yours.

‘I want to hear you scream for me tonight princess’

He spoke as he made his way down your neck, nipping and biting as his wolf senses took over and eagerly wanted to mark you, to claim his stake, have you wet and pliant under his fingers and tongue.

‘Take you apart piece by piece, have you cum for me and then I’ll do it over and over again’.

‘Ahhh!’ You screamed out in surprise as San ripped your shirt apart with his bare hands, his eyes darkening in lust more when he saw your exposed chest, sans bra.

Teeth and tongue were immediately on your nipple as he pressed his face against your sternum, inhaling your scent and the sound of him growling against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Random praises and compliments were breathed into your skin as San trailed down your body, leaving hickeys and love bites you were sure to wear as a token of San for a few days.

‘I love you’, ‘you’re so beautiful’, ‘fuck i can’t wait to have my cock inside of you’.

San eagerly and with rushed hands removed your tights and chucked them beside you, taking the time to stare at your flushed cheeks, open thighs, hard nipples and staring up at him with absolute adoration.

‘I’m so happy you’re mine, my special princess’

He leaned back up to press one last passionate kiss to your mouth, placing a few pecks before pulling away to trail back down your body before settling his face against your crotch.

Your body jumped as San inhaled deeply as he nuzzled his nose over your clothed mound, his lashes fluttering as he let out a moan.

‘You smell amazing, I want to bury my face in your cunt and lick you clean’.

He felt your fingers brush his hair back and push his head eagerly back down, lifting your hips up slightly in a sign of neediness for him to continue.

‘Then do it- I’m yours to take’.

‘Fuck princess, don’t get me started’

The comment boosted his need for you even further and you watched as he pulled your underwear down your legs, removing it around each ankle and leaving it on the floor.

There was no time to prepare before San had gripped your thighs and eagerly dived in, his tongue swiping through your folds and laving over your clit.

‘Your sweet cunt always tastes the best after a rut, it’s like it’s been missing me while I’ve gone’

He murmured into your crotch as he focused on your clit, licking, sucking and nibbling the swollen bud with his teeth and tongue as his primal senses took over and his entire focus was making you squirm under his touch.

San’s absence had left your body all sensitive and touch-starved and much to your chagrin- it wasn’t long before you were almost cumming from San’s ravenous attention on your clit alone.

‘Baby…I’m-Mmmmmm!’

Your hips kicked back and your thighs spasmed as your orgasm hit you quickly, back arching and hands gripping San’s hair.

‘Mmmm…good girl…my good princess…not done though…want more’

His moans and hums of pleasure vibrated through your core as he moved to slide your cum and slick on his tongue, using it as wetness so he could lick your clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling around the sides and then grazing the underside, sucking it in between his teeth and repeating over and over again.

‘San..fuck! So close…mmm, almost there!’

You could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you climaxed again, San’s strong hands preventing your legs from closing as his movements slowed down, eventually stopping.

‘Delicious…so fucking delicious’

He propped himself up and stared at you with glazed eyes and your slick making his lips raw, wet and shiney.

All logic had left San’s brain and he was consumed with the thoughts of ruining his sweet princess over and over again, having you spread out underneath him, cock inside of you, hearing you pant and whine until your voice gave out.

‘The bed San…’

Clumsy arms reached out for San’s support as you tried to sit up, knowing full well that he would fuck you on the carpet if he could.

‘Take me to bed…fuck me there’.

No words were spoken as San hauled you up off the floor and carried you over his shoulder, his strength and sheer power causing you to burn even more for his touch.

Your torn shirt and San’s jeans and briefs were discarded on the floor and you quickly gathered yourself on your bed, your head on a pillow and another stuffed under your hips.

‘Look at you, getting ready for me to fuck you open and raw, such a filthy princess…MY filthy princess’

He pumped his cock a few times, the muscles in his chest and forearms flexing with every twist and pull.

‘Princess has been missing you Sannie, am all ready for you baby’.

San kneeled in front of you as he pressed your knees to your chest, folding you into a mating press before pushing his cock into you, roughly, eagerly and bottoming out in one slide.

‘Aww, so wet, tight and perfect for me’

He kissed you again, radiating his love and passion for you through his lips and gaze.

You could taste yourself in his kiss and your body trembled under the sudden intrusion, the angle filling you whole and your body and cunt already feeling exposed like a live wire.

‘Fuck you’re so hard San, can feel you deep’.

A deep moan filled the air as San pulled out,all the way to the tip before thrusting back in with a hard snap of his hips.

There was no talking for awhile, just San’s grunts and groans mixing with your whines and whimpers as he fucked you roughly but with passion.

Even with San’s wolf influence murking his presence, you could still feel the overwhelming love he had for you.

His piercing gaze showed his love, his kisses and little nips to your mouth were filled with love, the snap of his hips and the way his body covered yours, his aura was filled with the utmost love and care he had for you.

And he did love you, more than you know, more than he could confess and feeling you underneath him and clutching him against you, how needy and pliant you were while he fucked you…

The bubble in his heart burst and his final defence was blown, leaving him to express unwavering affection for you as he was close to chasing his release.

‘My special princess, you’re always taking care of me, looking after me…I miss you so bad when I’m away baby…I- hah! W-want to protect you, keep you-mmm! keep you safe, fill you over and over again until your pretty cunt is dripping with me…’

San released inside of you with a husky groan and a stuttering of his hips, moving his hands from your knees to clutch at the headboard, burying himself as far as he could inside of you.

‘Baby…Sannie..please, please..so close!’

Your body was shaking with electric jolts and you could feel your body tremble around him, shaking with overstimulation and the need for release, your body close to giving out but needing more to reach your peak.

‘I got you princess, let me help you cum’

He gently grabbed your right hand, pressing a few kisses to your knuckles before placing it over your mound.

You roughly circled your clit with hasty fingers, San eyeing you intently as he slowly grinded into your g-spot, the added stimulation rapidly helping you to your peak.

‘I can feel you clenching around me princess, you’re so close aren’t you baby?’

San hummed those words into your ear as he pressed kisses against the side of your face, knowing the praise is what you needed.

‘Be a good girl for me mmmh? Show me how pretty your face is when you cum okay? Want to see my pretty princess cum for me’

And it worked, your body arched and muscles spasming as you came with a whimper, your head buried in San’s shoulder.

Both your breathing quieted down as the room begin to spin less and normalise, your fingers softly running down San’s sweat-covered back.

‘Rest for awhile baby, I’m not finished with my special princess yet’.

Author Note: Happy Halloween and this was my first time writing werewolf smut because that performance video absolutely ruined me and I just couldn't help myself.

I was team vampire!San but after that performance cover...team were!wolf San all the way now!!

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @cherry-0420 @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @abby-grace @daddysspecialdollyworld @silentreadersthings @ddeonghwassimp @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @akimkim @smilefordongil @0325tiny

698 notes · View notes

live-love-be-unique · 8 months ago

Text

Crossing All The Lines

Summary: Callsign: Tink. Brought into the taskforce as a hacker/ intel specialist, you butt heads with your captain.

#47. Reader is a hacker or intel specialist for @glitterypirateduck O,Captain! challenge

Also, inspiration for a chubby reader and the death of a certain Austrian from @391780, Early I hope I did you proud.

Parings: Price x chubby f reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, female reader, smut with some plot, oral (f!receiving), vaginal sex 18+ Minors DNI

“It’s your eye in the sky, so to speak” you said, holding the small drone you had been tinkering with before he had walked into your office. You animatedly showed off the newest toy you had been tinkering with, pointing out the features you had added “it has the capability to record and store six hours of audio and video. I’m working on the signal range to extend…”

Price reached over the desk and turned off the screaming you called music that was blasting through your computer speakers “I’m not taking some flying toy into a war zone” he said with finality. Laswell’s recommendation be damned, he didn’t need some little dolly bird tottering around the base in ridiculous shoes telling him how to run his taskforce.

“Oh ok, so will you be letting Gaz know you’re planning on pitching him out the side of a helicopter again to run surveillance or am I?” you say, casting him a smirk over your shoulder as you place the drone on the shelf behind you. Price groaned and rolled his eyes away from you.

You were the newest addition to the taskforce, at Laswell’s insistence, she claimed you were the best intel operative she had encountered in years. She had pulled a few strings and called in some favours with the higher ups that Price could only fantasize about knowing to get you after you had saved their arses with some quite impressive hacking skills.

To say you weren’t what Price had been expecting was a massive understatement. The day you were introduced to the team, you were all bright colours and sparkles in a sea of soldiers. Hardly military issue, as you arrived on base, you had poured your soft, rounded curves into that dress. A wiggle-dress his mother used to call them, and ridiculously high heels. The sight of you made his mouth water and his hands itched to feel your soft skin and overflowing curves. Soap and Gaz took to you instantly, bestowing you with the callsign Tink because of your love for tinkering with random projects or Tinkerbell according to Soap, Ghost took a little longer but your preference for a proper cup of tea and non-judgmental attitude towards his unwillingness to show his face quietly won him over.

The only one you hadn’t bonded with was Price. You butted heads and frustrated each other. Trading snide comments and jabs. Price did appreciate the fact that you kept a jar of sweets on your desk that you made an effort to keep stocked with his and the lads favorite treats and he had to admit that, Laswell was correct, your hacking skills were second to none.

Price watched as you spent the first three weeks of your time on base bringing in new trinkets for your small office. Candles, figurines and a small cactus that Soap didn’t notice until he sat on one day. You admonished him for weeks until he brought you in another, non-spiky one. “I’m sorry, Tinkerbell, forgive me?” he’d pouted, holding out the small succulent towards you. Your office was an explosion of colour like you, and there was always music playing, you’d even created a playlist with Soap and Gaz.

But…on more than one occasion not that he would admit it, Price found himself in his office late at night surrounded by the cloying scent of artificial strawberries from the candles you preferred to decorate your office with that seemed to follow you around, with his hand furiously fisting his cock. Your bratiness was like catnip to him. Every cheeky little sass you threw his way made him harder than ever.

You yourself, never thought you would be one to enjoy it when a man yelled at you but with Price’s gravely, low voice and the sheer broadness of him…damn...you couldn’t count the nights you spent with the absolutely non military issue neon pink vibrator between your legs imagining it was Price instead, his booming voice echoing in your ears as you came. Your embarrassing crush on the captain had stopped you from dating, all bar a handful of dates with that very tall Austrian colonel from Kortac, you thought he had ghosted you after your dates but came to find out that he had died from ingesting strychnine poison in a Romanian brothel after sleeping with a married woman.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your voice pulled Price back to the present.

“There’s nothing to hear, we’re not taking that thing” he pointed towards the shelf.

“It’s already been cleared. You just have to control everything don’t you?”

“I’m the captain for a reason” he muttered, stubbornly.

You scoffed “god, I bet you couldn’t last one day without controlling everything”

Price leaned forward, open palms resting on the desk in front of him, staring down at you “try me”

“What?”

“You heard me…try me, doll”

You can’t tell who made the first move as your hair was wrapped tightly in Price’s hands as he pulled you against his lips in a heated kiss. He groans deeply as your teeth nip sharply at his bottom lip.

“That dress looks divine on you” he smirks, pulling away from your lips breathing heavily.

“Thank you-”

“How easy is it to take off?”

You smirked, turning your back towards Price, moving your hair over your shoulder and glancing over your shoulder at him.

Price licked his lips as his hands slid slowly from your waist up your back. His hands made quick work of the zipper as he slid the dress down over your shoulders, placing a gentle almost loving kiss between your shoulder blades.

You turned to face him as you dropped your dress to the floor. You felt exposed as Price’s eyes raked over your near naked form.

Price couldn’t take his eyes away from you. The lacy navy coloured lingerie hugged your soft, rounded curves perfectly. Your eyes locked with his as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Tell me you want this” his eyes bore into yours as his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear “tell me you want me”

“Price…”

“John, call me John…please” he whimpered.

“Please, John”

“Fuck” he uttered as he dragged the lace over your hips and down your legs. You shuddered as the cool air met your soaking core.

He pushes your legs apart, pressing little kisses on your inner thighs, before nuzzling his cheek against you, breathing in your scent as he lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder.

He looks up at you, eyes blown out with desire. Before you had a chance to think of a witty retort, he dives in, tongue sliding through your folds. You fall back against the desk with a soft groan as your hands find his hair, gripping tight as he laps at you like a man starved. “Fuck,” he moans against you. “You taste so fucking good.” He spreads you apart, adding a finger into the mix, he thrusts it in and out of your eager hole as his tongue laps at you. You moan softly, hand still tangled in his hair as you arched your back, body chasing his tongue against your heated skin.

“Stop wriggling” he gritted out, his voice strained as his calloused hands gripped the plush of your thighs.

“Make me”

Price chuckled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you squealed and wrapped your legs around his hips as he sat you on your desk “just once, will you do as you're told?” His hands on either side of your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, locking your ankles behind his back and pulling him closer.

Price grunts, gripping your thighs against his waist as he leans forward and leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own.

“You have no idea how much I want you”

“Oh I think I get the idea” your smirk as his lips continued their path towards your chest. You ground against him and chuckled as you felt the rumble of a moan in his chest.

“I want to ruin you”

“Please…do it”

That was all the encouragement he needed as he hurried to undo his belt and shove his pants to his ankles.

“Your hand feels so much better than my own” he rasped as you wrapped your hands around him, lining his cock up with your pussy. You moaned against each other's lips as he sinks into you. The stretch to accommodate him is nothing short of delicious. Your grind against him as he bottoms out.

Your eyes meet as he pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you, filling you so completely that it steals the air from your lungs.

Your hands grip anywhere you can as Price rolls his hips up into you, the way you squeeze him spurs him on as you writhe and keen underneath him. Your nails leave crescent shapes in the skin of his back as he looms over you, his arms caging you against his broad chest.

Price couldn’t stop himself, he kissed at the skin of your bare shoulder, bared his teeth and bit, hard, you yelped. Oh shit, he thought, have I gone too far?

He stopped and looked into your eyes, searching for any type of distress.

“More” you purred. You’d be the fucking death of him.

He smirks as he can feel your body tightening around him, you’re getting closer and he isn’t far behind as he slams into you with one final snap of his hips. His lips find yours as you moan into his mouth, tongue and lips clashing together as you come.

Your door swung open “about time” Ghost muttered as he closed the door again.

“So…that was…” Price stumbled out as he pulled out of you, picking up your dress that laid crumpled on the floor. He gently pulled it over your spent body. Resisting the urge to drop kisses to any sliver of skin he could see.

“Great, it was great” you smile, pausing slightly before standing up on your toes to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turned his head, chasing your lips as you shared a soft kiss.

“Yeah, it was great” he smiled, suddenly bashful.

#captain price cod #price smut #captain john price #john price #captain john price smut #oh captain my captain

229 notes · View notes

minispidey · 1 year ago

Text

03: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

03. Everyday she wears pink.

(A/n: your feedback on the last chapter about me writing the moon knight system is so amazing tysm! i referenced mpgis here and more legally blonde. i wanna note that reader has been a lawyer for a couple years now and amazing at it 🤸‍♀️ btw update tags are open!)

warnings: mention of cock, swearing and cursing, mention of blood.

the cock line is from my bubs @ominoose ily

"This isn't just a date. This is a date!" You told yourself as you threw random articles of clothing behind you as you hunted for a specific dress.

You thought maybe you shouldn't wear pink. Maybe you have a pretty dress he hasn't seen you in.

You barely slept due to excitement.

The way he talked and looked at you made you swoon over him. Just thinking about makes you-

You squealed as your leg involuntarily kicked up. You blinked twice in confusion "That is so weird..."

Maybe you were horny.

"Oh gosh, not again. Bad leg!" you scolded your beautiful leg as it kicks up again "Down girl, down! No nasty thoughts about... about... about the hot neighbor across us- no!"

You almost moaned at the though of his lips against yours... You shuddered as you kept remembering the way he looked at you. You laid down in the pool of clothing as you imagined how your little lunch date will go.

As usual, you two walked out of your flat at the same time, discussing where the two of you were going for lunch.

"Wetherspoons..." you parked your pink corvette outside, looking at the flowers decorating the place. Your high heels clicked on the pavement as you walked inside, still in your pink work suit despite planning on changing.

It was a busier day than you thought, but of course lunch time is important.

Your eyes lit up as you spotted Steven, sitting up rather stiff "Stevie!" you smiled as you walked over to his table "Hi, so sorry I'm a bit late. Traffic and all."

But Steven looked back at you with such a loving look in his eyes "It's alright, love. I haven't been waiting long."

The truth is, he thought you weren't gonna show up.

"Have you ordered yet? Gosh, you must be starved." you opened the menu and browsed.

"I haven't." he shook his head, opening his menu as well.

"Cross examination was a success." you smiled "Next week's the next trial with the witness."

Steven didn't know what you were talking about, it was out of context "That's great!" he responded.

"So then he was like no and I was like, you are. Then he was like no but then I was like you are! And he was like, I kinda am. So long story short he's like, totally gay." you said as you looked at your compact mirror.

"Thank gosh I figured it out, because no way can he say my Chanel is so last season when his shirt is so last year. My client was totally bugging, but we figured it out and I, like, totally won that. How about you, Stevie? How's your day?"

Steven smiled back at you "T'was alright, love. Just the usual." he says sarcastically "Donna's been a real-"

"Excuse my language— Bitch? Cunt? Pain in the ass?"

He chuckles "Yes. A pain in the arse, love."

"She always sounds like she's giving you a hard time. You sure you don't want me to talk to her?"

"I don't think it's lawyer-worthy. It's really alright, love." Steven shakes his head "Just another typical day."

"Yeah, which can be classified as workplace abuse."

"Really. I'm fine."

You press your glossy lips into a thin line before sighing "Alright. But if you need someone to represent you in court, I'm your girl." you playfully winked at him.

Steven blushed before nodding "I'll keep you in mind then." a waiter comes up to the two of you and he began to order "-and a cocktail. Uh, how about you?"

"Um, I'll have the Soup of the Day with half a baguette, and Pasta Pomodoro with salmon. And— wait did you say a cocktail?" you blinked twice at Steven "I'll have a cocktail too, thank you."

You smiled at the waiter as he repeated the order to you two before walking away.

"Jeez, Stevie. It's only lunchtime." you giggled at him.

"I-I just wanted something strong."

"Work's really stressful, huh?"

"It really is." he sighed "Working late again tonight. But this uh lunch date is really cheering me up."

Your cheeks felt hot, making you smile "That's so sweet... tell you what, I'll pick you up from work tonight again. I'm working late too anyways."

It was Steven's turn to blush. His hand shakes with his head "You're way too nice. I don't wanna bother you. It's quite overwhelming too." even his ears turned red.

"Steven, you shouldn't turn away blessings." you winked as you giggled. Your cocktails were served just a few minutes later.

"I haven't had a cock in a while."

Steven felt his drink rush to his nose and he quickly grabbed a napkin. He coughs a few times before looking up at you.

"Oopsies, I meant a cocktail." you covered your mouth, smiling "Well, I mean... I haven't had that in a while either."

You took a sip of the drink and Steven stared at the lipstick mark left on the edge of the glass. You always wore a certain shade of lipstick, and it always drove him crazy.

There were times he'd imagine smudging your lipstick... in more ways than one.

After lunch, the two of you laughed as you drove to the museum. Steven just kept falling more and more into your wonderland of pink and diamonds. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes, listening to every word you said.

The thing about Steven is that he loves to ramble and talk a lot, and so do you. He knew you were perfect.

"-and I was like, thank gosh I talked her out of buying an orange chiffon scarf. It doesn't suit her spring tones at all! There's a fine line between terracotta and brown."

That evening, your pink corvette was parked outside of the museum, waiting patiently for Steven after a long day of reading case papers. You puckered out your lips to reapply some lipstick before popping and smiling at your reflection.

Your freshly manicured nails tapped on the steering wheel while humming a small tune.

Then suddenly someone knocks on your window.

"Steven?"

He looked like he was roughed up, red staining his clothes, but it's not his blood. It didn't even look like the same clothes he was wearing during your lunch date.

"Oh my gosh, Steven-"

...but that's actually not your main concern.

"-I told you, blue and black as a combo is a total crime against fashion. If it were me, I'd make it law." you groaned, opening the locks of your car "Get in."

His eyes widened but he doesn't respond, only taking the passenger's seat like you commanded.

"Oh, you have a little stain there." you pat the patch of blood using a pink handkerchief with lace trim and your name embroidered on the corner.

He continued to stare at you as you took his hand and placing your handkerchief on his palm "Here. You can give it back to me some other time because I seriously I need to take you shopping this weekend."

You thought maybe he's always tired after work, that's why he's so quiet, like yesterday.

"Maybe I can figure out your color palette so I know what looks best on you. Your shirts are cute, I'd have to admit, but some of them are... meh. No offense but some prints are worse than the last. OH! I know, we'll do a whole shopping day on the weekend. An hour or so won't cut it. I know it's your weekend off, but trust me when I say when your pretty neighbor's a fashionista, your life is gonna change."

Steven looks at you from the mirror's reflection before shifting his eyes towards the body— Jake. Unlike Marc's creepy silent behavior from the night before, Jake actually looks at you as you went on and on.

He even responds with small nods.

"Can we not make this a habit? First it's Marc pretending to be me in front of her, now it's you. I don't need your help with her. Can I please go in my own pace?" Steven tells Jake, but Jake shook his head in a not now kind of motion.

As Jake entered the apartment after waving goodnight to you, he's met with a poor attempt of a glare from Steven "Don't look at me like that, you wanted the girl so I gave it a push."

"I want to do this on my own. Marc doesn't want me to, I don't know about you, but I don't need help. Can I please do it my way? It's all I ask."

"Can you ask her out?"

Steven pressed his lips into a line before letting out a sigh "Give me the body. I'll... try."

"Alright, alright. You go on ahead."

Steven, now in control of the body, swung open the door and he sees you struggling to find your keys. You blinked twice before smiling at him "Hi again, Stevie. My keys are just- ugh, a lot." your keychains jingle as you tried to find the right key.

"Can we go on a date after shopping this weekend?" he blurts out quickly. Steven was red as a tomato "D-Dinner date."

Your eyes lit up and you felt the butterflies in your stomach again "I'd love that! I'll just- oh! I found my key!"

And you also found the key to your locked-up heart.

UP NEXT: the best weekend ever! a date with steven and a little breaking and entering 💅

tags: @red-hydra @monsterroonio @pastelpinkpilatesprincess @letmehavemyfictionalmen @uncle-eggy @superduckmilkshake @3zae-zae3

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #x bimbo!reader #x reader #x you #bimbo reader #moon knight system

454 notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Best Friend

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader

Summary: after a decade of friendship Robb is finally able to recognise his love but only after his best friend starts looking for a husband that isn't him.

TW: swears and Theon being Theon.

Fluff and angst all in one.

Word count: 2838

Masterlist Here

Robb Stark was so not in love with his best friend who he spent all his time with, who he taught how to ride and swing a sword just encase, who he ate lunch with every day in the gods wood, who he gazed at from his seat at the table, who he threatens every potential betrothal of, who he would constantly bring up in conversations nothing to do with them. No obviously not. Jon was crazy for suggesting the future lord of Winterfell would be in love by his best friend of near a decade.

“Of course I don’t fancy her you idiot,” Robb said as he and Jon sparred, “She’s my best mate you twat,”

Jon laughed as he half-heartedly deflected his brothers blows, “Of course not brother. Why else would you stare at her?”

“I do not stare,”

“You stare more at her than Theon does at arses,”

“It’s true,” Theon piped up from his spot a couple feet away. Robb sparred and learned from Jon and then Theon from Robb. Theon was stood close to the boys waiting for his turn against Robb. It was a routine they had down from their year of training together. “You’re in love with her mate,”

“Am not,”

“Am too,”

“Am not,”

“So can I try wooing her then?” Theon asked.

Robb spun around and pointed his sword just in front of his throat, “Don’t even think about it Greyjoy,” Robb swung his sword back and continued sparring with Jon, this time with more force in his swing. Jon faltered slightly as he quickened his pace to keep up, “We all know what you mean by wooing and if you dare try fuck her-“

“Hey guys,” Robbs eyes went wide and he quickly lowered his sword and shut his mouth, “Whatcha talking about?”

Jon and Theon snickered as Robb tried to ignore his face growing hot. “Nothing much. Just these too idiots,” Robb said and (Y/N)’s smile did not help his blush. “You know what Theon’s like,”

“What poor girl are you tormenting this week?” (Y/N) asked Theon with a grin.

Theon gave Robb and even bigger grin before walking up to (Y/N), “Could be you if you wanted darling,”

The girl rolled her eyes with a smile but a slight grimace at the same time, “You wish Greyjoy,”

“Who doesn’t?” Theon flung his arm over her shoulder which was met by a glare from Robb.

“In your dreams idiot,” she shrugged herself free from his lose grip before turning back to Robb, “You still on for today?”

“Yeah I’ll meet you in the woods when I’m done here,”

“Okay Robbie see you then,” she said as she walked past him, touching his shoulder as she passed, “Bye Jon, see you never Theon,”

“Bye (Y/N),” Jon called after her as she entered the castle, presumably going to the kitchen to sort for her and Robbs lunch. “Not in love still?”

“Shut up and duel me idiot,” Robb snapped.

(Y/N) was already sat by the weirtree in their usual spot in the woods when Robb arrived. “I wish you would wait for me to walk you here,” He said when he approached. Robb was always worried especially over his best friend. You never know who will be in the woods. What would he do if she got hurt? He dared to imagine.

“Nothing bad has happened to me yet,” she said, patting the spot beside her which he quickly filled, “besides you take ages,”

“Do not,”

“Do too. But I forgive you,” (Y/N) smiled and Robb hummed in fake annoyance. “I brought lunch,” she pulled the basket she had brought over, “They even prepared it ahead of time today,”

“They’re probably so used to this by now,” Robb said as he took the basket from her, “Ooo raspberry tarts,” He grinned and passed one to (Y/N).

“Aren’t those for after the sandwiches?” she asked but was already taking a bite out of it.

Robb smiled and watched as she ate it, “But they’re your favourite so why wait?” he said, leaving his own tart in the basket.

The two shared lunch and talked about the random things they had heard through the day. Along with a healthy amount of gossip of course.

“So, who was Theon talking about before I came along?” she asked as she handed Robb her apple.

Robb took the apple and his dagger from his belt and began to peel it for her like he had done every day for the past almost year since they started this tradition, “Oh it was nothing,”

“It sounded like something,” she said, “C’mon you always tell me his latest whorey history,”

“It wasn’t about a whore,” Robb felt his neck grow red and begged it wouldn’t go to his face, “he was talking about you,”

(Y/N) made a face, “Like in general or how he talks about his whores?”

“Id slit his throat if he talked about you like that,” Robb said with no laugh in his voice. He passed the now peeled apple back to her, “Nah he was just being a dick and that and talking about you to try wind me up,”

“Why would talking about me wind you up? We’re best friends,”

Even the way she bit into her apple was cute. Why had it took his friends pointing it out for Robb to realise how over the moons he was with her? And why did he feel the need to spit it out in a stream of word vomit that would surely end the friendship they’d grown? It took everything in him to shrug his shoulders and change the conversation.

The whole subject and talks with his brother had sent his head spinning that the only thing that snapped him out of it was (Y/N) saying, “My fathers looking for a suitor for me. I hate it,”

“He’s what? Why?”

“Because apparently im going to die an old maid if I don’t wow some fancy dancy lords son or ancient lord soon,” she sighed as she dug through the basket for another treat, “He’s talking about sending me all over the north or ever down to the reach to go to random balls and tourneys to try meet more people,”

“You cant leave,” Robb felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, “You’re my best friend I wont have you shipped across the country to some random old fucker who-“

“I don’t want to go either,” She cut him off, “I don’t think he’s going to send me out the north yet but he wants me to go to some ball the Karstarks are throwing for one of their sons. He’s even ordered me a new dress,”

“You don’t need a new dress. You need to stay in Winterfell,” Robb grabbed her hand before even thinking. The idea the possibility of her leaving. He didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. Or ever.

“I’m trying Robb. I promise I am. But he needs a reason to keep me here. We’re not kidding anymore,” her smile was sad and she squeezed his hand in return.

They fell silent for a few minutes. Robb knew she was right. Hell, he knew her father was right. But he didn’t want her to marry a random lord. He didn’t want her to leave.

He barely spoke the rest of the day. During his family dinner he sat and poked at his meat as his sisters bickered and his brothers argued. His mother tried to defuse the situation while his father tried to stop his wives glares at Jon. His father had insisted he at least joined their private dinners.

None of it really mattered to Robb who just pushed the potatoes from side to side. With a sigh Catelyn turned from her daughters to her eldest, “And what’s bothering you darling? Has Jon broken your comb as well?” Sansa scowled and Arya sniggered to which they both received a sharp look, “You’ve barely ate,”

“Not hungry,”

“You need to eat,”

Robb didn’t reply and instead turned to his father, “Are we going to the Karstarks ball thing?”

Neds’ eyes widened but he quickly relaxed, “I wasn’t planning on it. How come? You’ve never been into balls son,”

“Was just wondering,” he continued picking at his food as his father attempted to lighten the mood.

“Who told you about it? Did lord Karstark ask you? Cause I’ve been avoiding him recently,” Ned chuckled, “I’m still looking for an excuse to stay here,”

“(Y/N) told me,”

“She is going then?” Ned asked. Robb nodded, “Is that why you’re upset?”

“Never said I was upset,” Robb let go of his fork, letting it clatter onto the table, “Just not hungry and was wondering about the Karstarks. Sorry for being informed,”

“Don’t talk to your father like that,” Catelyn snapped. The table grew quiet and his siblings shared concerned looks. Never not once had they heard Robb be snarky towards either of their parents. “Whatever has gotten into you-into all of you, cut it out. Im sick of it. finish your dinners everyone. Robb if you’re not hungry you can leave,”

Robbs chair screeched across the floor as he left the room without a word. Ned laid his cutlery down and stared at his plate before standing from the table and following Robb. The room was silent as he left.

“Wait right there,” Ned called after Robb who was about to go around the corner to his chambers. Robb huffed and stared out a window as he waited for his father to approach, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for being snarky,” Robb mumbled.

Ned sighed and grabbed his son’s shoulder and spun him to face him. He held Robbs shoulders and forced the boy to face him, “What happened son?”

“Lord Karstarks and his stupid sons are having a stupid ball with stupid lords who stupid (Y/N) is going to do stupid dances with because her morainic father has stupid ideas,” Robb felt his eyes water but he couldn’t care anymore,

“Well I’m glad you know more words than stupid,” Ned sighed and dropped his hands from his shoulders, “but you shouldn’t be calling the girl stupid for looking for a husband,”

“But- “

“But nothing,” he interrupted him “you obviously love the girl so don’t be calling her names,”

Robb sighed and wiped away the tears that had spilled, “I don’t know why I’m being like this. Im sorry I should- “

“Should. Look son,” Ned sighed and began to walk Robb to his chambers, “Life is hard. Really hard. Marriage is even harder. Then eventually there’s children. Trust me you lot are the hardest,” he laid a hand on Robbs shoulder, “but its much easier when you love the person sharing it with you. If you love this girl, if you truly do, neither me nor your mother would dare try stop you from marrying,”

“But what if she doesn’t want me? What if she wants some fancy lord with silk robes and shiny hair?”

Ned looked his son up and down, “First of all remember who you are. You’re a stark. Women love us,” Robb cringed at his father’s joke, “Don’t think I don’t know about the lotions you get from Maester Luwin for your hair,” this time Robb managed to laugh, “but more importantly its you she spends all her time with. And even if she didn’t want to marry you,” Robbs smile quickly faded as he faced the reality that she may reject him, “eventually you will have to marry. And you will spend the rest of your life regretting not at least finding out,”

Ned stayed longer and comforted his son and told him stories of his early days in marriage. The ways in which he wooed over his already wife and how she looked on their wedding day. Robb had never been more certain. His father had briefly mentioned that even politically she was a good match considering her father but neither Stark cared overly about that.

Jon had stopped by after a while to check on him and Robb confessed everything. The tears and the build up all spilled out. Jon patted his brother’s shoulder, “Of course she’ll marry you. She’d be an idiot not to. Who wants a Karstarks over a Stark?”

Then eventually Robb was left alone. He tried to sleep but it wouldn’t come. He watched the moon from his window and wondered what he would say. How would he even bring it up? Would he propose straight away? Just kiss her. Confess his love first then kiss her? What would she say? What would her father say?

Before he realised what he was doing he was stood at the door of her chambers. he paced back and forth wondering whether or not to knock. It was late. The moon was high. She was probably asleep. He held his hand up to the door and sighed. He waited a minute and then he heard footsteps. If his mother heard he was out here at this time she’d kill him. So, he knocked. Rather quickly. He kept knocking until the door finally opened.

(Y/N) didn’t have time to question the boy before he rushed in her room and she peered down the corridor in confusion. Upon seeing no man with a sword running to kill Robb she finally shut it, “What’s your deal?” she yawned.

“I need to talk to you,” Robb turned to face the girl before quickly averting his gaze. But he had already saw her in her night gown which did little to cover the shape of the girl he had been secretly pining over. It was rare for him to see any women undressed let alone (Y/N) in such a natural state.

She looked down, noticing what Robb had and a pink tinge coated her cheeks. (Y/N) quickly grabbed a lounge robe from her chair and pulled it around her. “What are you doing here Robb?” she asked as she approached him.

“I-,” he stopped himself and looked out the window as he tried to think of the perfect sentence but none would come to him. She stepped closer and Robb turned back and grabbed her arms gently, “I was thinking. You shouldn’t go to the ball. You should stay here,” Robb led her to sit on her bed and she took his hands into hers.

“I want to stay Robb,” she said “but my father- “

“Wants you married I know. But why can’t you marry someone here? You could stay in Winterfell, start a family,” he was almost begging at this point, “Why do you need to start your search so far away?”

“It’s barely a two-hour ride. I’ll be safe trust me. I’ll be with my father and my family and-“

“Not with me,” Robb gripped her hands tighter. It was now or never. Ignoring his body screaming at him to stop he continued, “I want you to stay here. With me. In Winterfell. For so many more years to come,” Robb moved the stray hairs from her face. He had never seen it flow like this. It was messy from her sleep and not tied back or braided like it usually was. He wished to see (Y/N) like this a thousand more times.

“Of course, I want to stay,” her voice was equally desperate as his, “but I’m not going to be gone forever. Its one ball Robb and I’ll be back here. I promise,”

“For how long though? A week? A month? Another ball will come up or a tourney. You said yourself your father was thinking about the reach- “

“I don’t know for sure- “

“I want you to stay,” he cut her off and she sighed in return. Robb edged closer to her on the bed, “Wouldn’t you like to stay?”

“I would want nothing more,” her voice was almost a whisper now, “I’d happily stay here forever with you just so we could have our lunches but my fathers right. I need to find a husband,”

“Maybe you’ve already found one,” his voice was equally low now and with every second they seemed to be closer, “Why do you need to go so far to find someone you already have?”

“But Robbie your family- “

“Have already approved the match,” Robb began to rub circles on her hand with his thumb, “And im sure your father would do the same. But only if you want to. I wont force you to stay but if you want to it would be my honour to marry you,”

A smile fell upon her lips. It was soft and gentle and sweet and caring and everything Robb felt about her. her eyes glistened but not from sadness. This time she was the one to shuffle closer, “Then the gods have finally listened to my prayers. There’s no one I’d rather spend my life besides,”

A/N: this all started because I was eating an apple and didnt want to do my uni work. However I am tempted to possibly maybe try writing some kind of smut sequel maybe possibly (cause I have never wrote straight up smut so I trying to tackle that will be interesting lol)

#robb stark #robb stark imagine #robb stark fluff #robb stark angst #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #got #got imagine #robb got #robb stark x reader

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

bro a ken x reader where the reader moves to barbieland but she’s got tattoos and he’s got no clue what they are …

The ending to this is absolute arse. Idk what to do.

‘What’s this?’ Ken asked as he gestured to the tattoos you had littered here and there before even more questions followed after. ‘Can they come off? Did someone draw on you like Weird Barbie? If so was it with permanent marker?’ Ken then proceeded to smile, puffing his chest out like a proud bird, ‘I learnt that big word all by myself.’

You chuckled, now realising that ever since you came to BarbieLand there wasn’t a single person in sight who was even remotely as tatted up as you were, and so all of Ken’s random inquiries concerning them made all the more sense. ‘These are called tattoos and no they can’t come off, and I guess you could say that someone ‘drew on me’ but not with a permanent marker pen, but instead a piece of equipment that some might consider a painful process.’ You shrugged. ‘Though that depends on the pain tolerance and the placement of the tattoo.’ The look on Ken’s face was borderline hysterical to you with how wide his eyes became as they trailed over your most recent tattoo as though it’ll jump out and bite him.

‘Did you say painful? Like someone pinching your skin type of painful?’ Ken asked.

‘Hmmm. Think more like being stung a thousand times when in the midst of the outlining of the tattoo, only to then feel like your being scratched repeatedly and all over by a stray cat when they start the shading and or colouring process.’ You told him.

‘So you’re meaning to tell me that you were being hurt!’ Ken cried, retracting his hand away from you as though he was going to cause you more harm, which was something he doesn’t want to have happen. ‘Why would you or anyone ever want to go through that horrible process?!’ He said, voice muffled with his hands clasped over his mouth. You should’ve probably known that Ken would’ve reacted like this but the damage was already done, and yet you couldn’t help but find it sweet when he exemplified concern over your well-being, despite the fact that it was over something as briefly painful as a tattoo.

‘Beauty is pain as they say,’ you began, ‘but I found that once you get your first tattoo, you’ll soon enough want more to add to the collection. Think of it this way, we use tattoos as a way of self expression, some of them can be of something meaningful or something fun and cartoonish and hold no meaning at all other then it looked cool at the time. But I think they quite cool, don’t you Ken?’ The blonde then removed his hands from his mouth, moving himself closer to you as to get a better look at your tattoos in general, just as a smile appeared on his face. ‘They’re so cool.’ He admitted but it was clear he was still a little conflicted about the pain you put yourself through for a tattoo. ‘But they still sound a little frightening.’ He admitted to you with a weak chuckle and you couldn’t do anything but understand and sympathise where he was coming from.

‘Yeah, they can be frightening at first but I promise you Ken, I wasn’t in that much pain for very long, besides I was the one who wanted it done, the tattoo artists were just doing their job.’ You reassured him as you felt his fingers gingerly trace the tattoo, taking in every last detail as he looked at it with a new found perspective. Your tattoos are beautiful to Ken and he’d show appreciation for each and every one by tracing his fingers over it, almost as though he’d ruin the artistry that went into them if he went any harder. He found tattoos fascinating but would probably never get one himself and even if he did, he hoped that this tattoo artist that you talk about could give him a horse portrait, or at least something related to horses at the very least. That would be cool.

#barbie #barbie imagines #barbie imagine #ken x reader #ken x y/n #ken x you #Ken fic #ken fluff #Ken imagines #Ken imagine

485 notes · View notes

placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

Text

Random hybrid! AU idea that I have floating around my head rn (featuring reader x poly!141 dynamics) 😎

So I’m picturing a world where hybrids are often treated like second class citizens. They can have jobs, but they don’t achieve high status in them, and more often than not will have humans manage or mind them. They’re very similar to humans, but often have smaller statures and of course have tails and ears of animals, sometimes even horns or feathers or claws. Generally hybrids will be sent to jobs they’re best suited to according to their ‘breed’.

One of those jobs can be serving in the military, in fact in this AU it’s encouraged for families to send their hybrids to jobs that they can ‘live away’ in just so that the government can curb trends in neglect and stop antisocial behaviour from runaway hybrids. Our MC is one of these hybrids that gets sent away, born to a family of two humans that couldn’t understand how they’d ended up with a kid with defective ‘dog’ genes.

Of course, reader grows up with a chip on their shoulder because of their crappy parents, so pretty much from the get go in their new job they’re a cheeky shit. They don’t take orders well, they’re constantly being disciplined, they mouth off, they’re sloppy and ultimately they don’t want to be there.

However after a brutal few months of punishment reader eventually caves. They do a good enough job that eventually the traits that make them difficult, become the ones that make them hard as nails. They’re the ones that make reader actually proud of something for once in their life, their capability to do what others cannot.

And for years reader serves and does their job well, though never having the black mark of their bad beginnings scrubbed from their record. Other hybrids have soldiers choose them, to be their permanent handlers and serve them on the field for as long as they live. Though reader never gets the pleasure, as much as they start to yearn for someone that might want them, that might wish to train them and take the time to smooth out their still jagged edges. No one ever wants to take the chance. No one wants the onus of shepherding the black sheep.

Then Ghost shows up.

He comes to the grounds and says his Captain, a man named Price, has ordered for a hybrid to join their team. They need one that can keep up in stressful environments, one that can move fast and take orders quickly. He stressed how deadly the jobs would be and immediately the handlers are balking, not wanting to waste their well trained hybrids on a task force with a near constant suicide mission. Until they remember that you’re still around. Little smart mouth sod that you are, wouldn’t be much of a waste if they were back again after disposing of you.

And so you’re pretty much sent off packing with a kick on your arse and a silent but ever inferred ‘don’t fucking come back’ order.

When you first get a proper look at the skull mask clad giant, you’re scared shitless. The handlers had done some damage to you in their time, but this man stood multiple feet above you and could take you out with one swipe. The fear he elicits is enough to keep you quiet for at least 5 minutes until you’re back to your usual self. Back to the wolf that growls and snarls and bites at the bars, the one that tries to keep the hurt at bay with a flash of their bloodied teeth.

Ghost sees through the act right away. He knows how bad hybrids have it, he has an inkling of what you’ve been through. So instead of treating you how they would, instead of grabbing your scruff and going to hit you and slam down that ‘insolent’ personality of yours he shows you the utmost amount of patience and kindness.

He gently undoes your too-tight collar and replaces it with one from his bag. He puts a couple fingers under the leather just to make sure it’s comfortable for you. Even after you grunt at him when he asks if it’s ok, he just huffs out a laugh at you and ruffles the hair between your ears, rubbing a flat palm around your fluffy head. He doesn’t even care when you growl at him for it, something you’d have been lashed for before. Instead he withdraws his hand and respects your space. He even leads you to a car and has you sit in the backseat with him, telling you after that it’s alright to lean against him and get some rest if you’d like!

Already you feel like your defences are shaking loose. You’re not quite sure of yourself. No matter how many snide remarks you make at the man he doesn’t try to correct you, he doesn’t even give you a cuff around the ears. He just shrugs you off and gives you watchful looks, sizing you up and making you feel even tinier than you are.

It unnerves you like nothing else and ultimately, as you start to dose off and slip ever closer to Ghost, you wonder what the rest of his team will be like. You wonder if maybe your new posting is just the change you’d been craving…

#CoD #Simon Ghost Riley #ghost #Simon Riley #AU #hybrid!au

336 notes · View notes

08melancholie · 1 month ago

Text

Light Banter. — Micah/Reader

tags: Grief/Mourning, Loss, Death, Mistakes, Soft Micah Bell, Crying, Men Crying, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Murder, Brutal Murder, no comfort, Minimal fluff, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Not Proofread, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell, and reader lol

summary: The things Micah would do to go back in time and listen to Dutch, the things he'd said about you. Just for once, to rewrite this passage in his life. But that's an ending he may never face; so he must learn to cope with his mistake—both of your mistakes, and must do so all alone.

a/n: so ummmm ive been thinking abt my own fic for the entire two days ive been writing it LIKE i was in class imagining one of the scenes. micah bell angst LETS GOOOOO !!!!

words: 3,648 | AO3 LINK

Dutch is many things; controlling, manipulative, power-hungry—but somehow never wrong. And Micah had to learn that the hard way.

How he said the two of you were a match made in hell—he was right there. When he said you were both the biggest pains in his arse, always causing trouble wherever you went; when he had to put you both on camp-arrest, an attempt at lecturing you to not go into random bars and start fights; when he'd refuse to send you on jobs together, because he knew the outcome every time.

And you both should have listened, for once.

Another day brings you more trouble to stir. Micah and yourself have been out all day—early morning to late afternoon. Few folks were robbed; few non-compliant killed. It was a bit ruthless and brutal—but you were outlaws, so who cares?

Well, Dutch cared. Too much, in your opinion.

Always had his nose in your business, finding ways to scold you and Micah for any minuscule mission that ended in bloodshed or law. But that was your nature! And per his own word, you can't fight your nature—and so you won't.

Now, was that worth being sat in his tent, talked down to for hours? Well, yes. You either zoned out every time, or were struggling to hold in your chuckles and chortles with Micah; always worsening your situation.

Like today.

"You two are just.. unbelievable!" Dutch is scolding you like two children whom were just caught stealing candy from the corner store. He made you sit down on his cot before he started tearing into you both for another bar fight two towns over—initiated by Micah this time. "I sometimes just want to keep you both in camp, doing chores—because this isn't the way to go about." He adds, and it falls on deaf ears as you space out wherever while Micah just.. sits there, staring at him as if he's processing the words coming out of his mouth, when he in fact isn't. Dutch sees this and is simply fed up. "You know what? We're not gonna continue like this."

His next words get your attention instantly.

"I'm separating you two." Your eyes dart up to meet Dutch's dark ones, glistening with distaste. "No more sharing a tent; no more doing jobs together; hell, if you make me go that far, I'll prohibit you two speaking to each other." He barks, and you feel your heart drop to your feet.

"The fuck?" Dutch shoots you a glare at the vulgar reply and raised tone. "You can't do that, Dutch." You protest, standing up off the cot. Micah's head shoots up to look at Dutch, just as surprised and protesting.

He stands firmly above the two of you, looking and talking down on both. "I can do as I please," He stands back to his desk, where he previously was. "already had Charles start to move your—" He gestures to you. "—things out into a different tent at the other side of camp."

Your jaw goes slack and you feel like you have to pick it off the floor. "That.. Dutch! You can't be serious, that's just plain cruel!" You protest, clearly against the entire idea. But, everyone knows who has the last word; it's the reason Micah hasn't talked all night, and the reason he's been watching you, bewildered at how you're protesting to Dutch's word so confidently.

"I am not changing my mind; get out of my tent, both of you." He says firmly, and you have to be dragged out by Micah as to not pounce on Dutch right then and there.

Micah grabs you and—reluctantly, because he'd love to see you ravage the bastard like a wolf—leads you out of the tent, sighing after you exit and shut the flaps behind yourselves. "As much as I'd love to see it, I can't have 'ya killin' Dutch."

It felt much more real when you've left the tent.

Your eyes snap over to where you shared tent would be; split into two, like they were before you 'moved in' together. "This is bullshit.. he can't just segregate us!" You turn to Micah, who looks just as upset.

"I hear 'ya," He places his hands on his hips, looking at the tent as well. "but.. we both know there's nothing we can do." The truth in his words is painful, and you almost don't want to believe it. "Let me help get yer stuff in." He offers, and you nod with a small frown.

Micah helped you get your stuff across camp, the choice of being moved surprising most onlookers who caught a glimpse of what was going on. You just felt worse; even they didn't understand the choice Dutch made. You were reluctant on sorting the last item in its original place, slowly placing your last book into a drawer. "I.. I won't be used to this—I can't do this, Micah." You turn to face him, looking up with a quivering frown.

Micah feels for you. He doesn't even know if he'll be able to process this. He got used to having you in the tent; reading on your shared bedroll before he'd lay himself down, and you'd start reading aloud to him; early mornings where you'd slip out before him—if he managed to get some shuteye, ever—and greet him with coffee; pouncing on him whenever there was a job the two of you could do together. He'll miss it all. "C'mere, I know.." His arms extend to you, and you waste no time in pressing yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You felt safe there—and you know it sounds foolish; safe in the arms of a bloodthirsty, ruthless killer? Well, that was the honest truth. Before you were this close and started sharing bodily contact every day, his hugs—because rare—always felt much more meaningful and real. Your face buries itself in his chest, hands hugging him from under his arms and resting on his back, where his hands find your sides and squeeze reassuringly. You can't tell if he's trying to reassure you or himself right now. "Why would Dutch do this to us?" You huff into his coat.

He looks down at the top of your head. "Beats me, darlin'. I can't put my finger on it, either." He shifts one hand to your back and traces your spine slowly. "But it's damn unfair, that's one thing."

You nod against him in agreement, then pull away slightly, to be able to look up at him. "I think that we should part right—there's an O'Driscoll camp out west, close enough to be a problem." You smirk up at him, and he returns it.

"Oh, yeah? Is there, now?" He releases his hold on you, letting you take a step back. "Well, what're we waiting on? Don't want Dutchy stoppin' us here, do we?" He brings your smile back to your face, and you instantly make a b-line for your horses, mounting up and not caring about the approaching Hosea, trying to stop you.

The ride to this camp was pretty quick, seeing as the both of you were overly excited about it. You were going to end this right, have fun and then probably sneak off to do jobs and have one of the girls cover for you, like they have before when you got 'grounded' by Dutch a few months back. "And there it is," You point out the small outpost-looking area ahead, hitching your horse close-by, but not too close either. "In all her O'Driscoll glory."

"She looks promisin'," Micah jumps off of his horse, following your lead as you take coverage behind a nearby boulder. "tell me how we're doing this, partner." He looks over to you, ready for your command.

Now, whereas you always usually had a plan on how to do things, you just wanted to stress-relieve this time. And so, you did exactly that. "The plan is, you shoot everyone but me and yourself." You give a brief chuckle before drawing your guns. "I just need to relieve some of these emotions, and killin' off O'Driscoll scum will do it perfectly for me." You add.

Micah's smile turns into that devilish grin you love; taking his DAs out swiftly. "Oh, you've got it, girl." He laughs wickedly—oh, how you love that sound. You nod and cock your weapons, rising from your spot.

The entire area smells of blood and gunpowder, a scent you've gotten much more used to since meeting Micah and going on blood-thirsty missions with him. Bodies are scattered all around; faces with bullet holes in them, slit necks and penetrated chests. You and Micah were stood in one of the cabins there, searching through the many drawers, cabinets and closets inside the room. "Damn, these bastards were poor as dirt." You lean on the table behind Micah, on the opposite side as you watch him search through a closet, his back turned to you.

"I found a few pocket watches, but that's about it." You add.

"Hm, well 'least we got something, wouldn't dream of getting back to Dutch with noth—"

His sentence is interrupted by a horrifying squelching sound. Your breath hitches, nearly just enough to silence you. "Mic.. ah—" Your words are knocked out of your mouth by the sharp pain in your waist, and the hand on your mouth.

Micah turns around immediately, met by the traumatising sight of a knife in your side, a barely alive O'Driscoll's hands on you as he runs the knife deeper, slowly and excruciatingly painfully. "What the—" He draws his revolvers, pointing them at the man who tuts at him like at a bad dog.

"Don't do that, Micah." You let out a breathless gasp when the man twists the knife inside you, your hands shakily trying to push him off. You're gasping into the hand on your mouth, backing up into him as your eyes water. You never had a bad pain tolerance; it was more the look on Micah's face at the predicament you both got yourselves into now that had you wanting to cry. "You killed my brothers, 'ya rat."

Micah's unsure in what he's supposed to do. He grips his guns tightly, staring wide-eyed at the sight before him as he scrambles for any way to stop your pain, watching you squirm for release. "Let her go, she ain't done nothing."

The man just laughs and gives another twist of his hand and knife in your side that has you gritting your teeth together. "She slit one of 'em's throats. Wild little thing, is she?" His breath is hitting your neck as he speaks, clasping his hand down harder on your mouth. His knife handle is almost soaked, red staining your light blue shirt and trickling down to your jeans. Just as he stops twisting it, he pulls it out. You squeak out in pain, shutting your eyes closed.

Micah practically growls, watching the man pull the knife out and press the soaking red blade to your throat. "Please—don't." He's desperate, barely able to look at you fighting to stay standing, gripping onto the mans' forearm for dear life. Dear life, indeed.

"Wow," The O'Driscoll laughs, pressing the blade in harder. "beg me some more, Micah Bell. Never thought you was that kinda person." Micah is fighting between anger and worry; wanting to rip the man's head off while watching you squirm, losing more and more blood by the second.

His blood runs cold when a dead silence fills the room and you still up—the knife painting your neck red.

"No!—" He shoots the man dead on the spot, a headshot right into the forehead. He drops his guns and kneels to you, making you sit up and lean on the wall. "Damn it! No, no—don't do this to me, girl.." He unbuttons his undershirt and rips a piece up out of it, trying to hold it up to your neck in an attempt at saving some blood loss. "Come on, you can't do this to me—this is not how we said we was parting, sweetheart," He holds your hand up to your neck, your eyes rolling back as you cough and clench your side. "Please, please don't."

As an outlaw, this was actually how you always envisioned your demise. But, you never thought it'd be this brutal—or that Micah would be forced to watch. "Micah—" You attempt to speak, and it sounds terrifying; your voice isn't you, it doesn't sound like you.

"Don't talk, baby. I'mma.. I'll get'chu home.." You can't really tell if he's trying to convince himself or you that there's a possibility of redemption here, the horrifying look in his eyes as your blood paints the floor and himself, the hand holding yours over your neck getting soaked and trickling down his whole arm. He's getting just as bloody as you, and yet he still thinks there's a way to save this. "It's not too deep.. I can still get 'ya home.." He's huffing and out of breath, as if he just ran a marathon.

You use the hand on your hip to shakily touch his shoulder, removing it from the first knife wound. "No—.." You mumble breathlessly, shaking your head at him. "Stay.. while I go." You manage out, blood leaking down your front from between yours and Micah's fingers.

"No, please—please let me help 'ya. Don't do this to me." He's pleading with you, reaching his free hand to hold onto your side. "Please." He's never experienced loss like this; for a man that killed and saw death since he was a young boy, he sure wasn't prepared.

"Hug me."

"Y/N, don't."

"Hug. Me."

"I love you, darlin'. Why won't you let me help you?"

"Please, Micah. Hug me, hold me in my last moments."

His hands release your wounds. One goes to the back of your head, leaning you into his chest as the other runs through your hair. "I never wanted this, baby. I'm so fucking sorry." He's whispering into your ear while running his bloody hands through your hair, pressing you into himself. This is how you always wanted to die; in the hands of your favourite person, getting to hold them and breathe in their scent, making sure they're the last memory you have despite the way you'd die.

You start to feel woozy; dizzy. You feel your breaths leaving your lungs, your life leaving your body. This, was something no amount of preparation could calm you. "I'm.. scared." You manage out, holding onto his shoulders with a surprising amount of strength.

"Don't be, baby. You'll feel better." He hums, his voice cracking. "And I'll see you there, too. I'll be there, at some point." He whispers, pulling you away briefly to press a kiss to your forehead, wiping some blood off of your neck before leaning you back into him. "I'mma bury you at the nicest spot you'd have ever seen. I'll visit you every day, babygirl. I know you love tulips; how 'bout I plant some there? You'll love that, won't you?" He rambles into your hair.

A haunting silence. Your breaths slow down and hands stop gripping his shirt, and you go limp on top of him. That's what truly breaks him as his eyes water, maybe for the first time in multiple decades. "Oh, baby. I'll make sure you have the prettiest little spot.. with the prettiest little flowers." His tears stream down to your face as he pulls you away to look at you; his beautiful, strong girl.

"Me an' Charles'll bury you, give you the best spot in the entire damn country. I'm so goddamn sorry."

After a moment of silence, he got up and grabbed his guns, holstering them before gently picking you up. He got you up on his horse, calling your own to follow him as he left the massacred O'Driscoll camp behind—not before setting a fire to the cabin in which the man who killed you laid. Just in case.

He held you against him the entire ride back to camp which felt much longer without your little quips and stories, uncaring of how stained his clothes were from your blood. He occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head, fastening you against him.

Getting into camp was probably the most terrifying part. He hitched up and held you against him as he stood at the entrance of the campsite, feeling shellshocked. He looked down at your unmoving body, his eyes narrowing to your much more peaceful face.

"Oh, Micah."

His head perks up to the sight of Hosea, standing up from the campfire and slowly walking over, his eyes wide and one hand covering his mouth. "Micah.. Micah, how.?" Hosea was at a loss for words; hell, he assumed you invincible from how many close calls he had to watch you suffer through, so seeing you unmoving in Micah's arms was a terrifying sight. "No—you don't have to say anything. I'll.. get Charles—Charles!" He turns and yells for the other man, as Micah looks back down to you, waiting on Charles.

He soon shows up and instantly frowns, looking down at your body. He looks up to Micah after a moment of silence.

"You know where you want to bury her?"

It was a nice little hill, always painted in flowers during the spring. There was a lake nearby—you always loved sneaking off and skinny-dipping with him, uncaring of Dutch's lecture the next day when you'd be too tired to work. You liked smelling things, too; from flowers to Pearson's meals to Micah himself. You constantly got up into his chest and took in his scent when he hugged you—or when you involuntarily tacked him into an embrace. He'll miss your little surprise attacks on him. He hopes that the flowers will be enough to smell for you.

"Do you want a moment before we lower her in?"

Charles' voice gets Micah out of his zone, and he looks at the man. "Thank you.." He grumbles and Charles nods, walking off a few feet to give Micah his well-deserved privacy.

Micah takes a seat down next to your lifeless body, now cleaned up and dressed in your favourite outfit. You looked mostly like yourself—if you ignore the paleness of your skin and neck wound openly displayed, unable to be hid behind your shirt collar. He takes you in for one final hug, breathing in your scent, like you would with him. It pained him that you smelled like gunpowder and blood in your last moments, but at least the perfume Karen offered to put on you made a small difference. He embraces you for a long time, enough for Charles to come back and interrupt, asking Micah if it'd be okay now. And Micah knew you needed peace; so he agreed.

His eyes could barely stay opened as Charles shuffled dirt over your body, losing the sight of you slowly. He bit his lip, watching the last of your face get lost in the surrounding dirt. His eyes watered briefly, but he couldn't let himself cry in front of Charles, so he shoved it down.

Charles tapped the back of the shovel over the dirt pouch, flattening it out before taking a step back. "There," He turns to Micah briefly. "I'll leave 'ya to.. process it. Seems you still need to." He hums before walking away, leaving Micah holding back tears before your grave.

Despite never being a religious man, he hoped that an ending was real and that you'd gotten your peace, even in your brutal suffering.

People in camp mourned you and visited your grave for a few weeks before most stopped and moved on. But Micah couldn't.

He was there every day—early morning to late evening, if not downright sleeping at your burial. He had issues with insomnia before, and you always made it easier to fall into the slumber he always hoped for. Sleeping next to your grave hasn't helped too much, but he feels better; not wanting you to rest alone, by your wish you vocalised when Dutch wanted to split your tent apart. Your grave was cared for immensely, and there was barely any space around it from the overwhelming amount of flowers Micah had either bought or planted himself. He had one of the girls teach him how, and made sure to include dozens of tulips. He knew what you liked.

"You've been gone three and a half months, baby. I still bring 'ya tulips.. but I'm not sure if you're getting tired of them." He spoke to your gravestone a lot; he missed your voice immensely, now regretting the few times he'd space out while you yapped his ear off about some random topic. "I planted a few roses, I know you like 'em too."

"Hope you can see and hear me, darlin'. Did you know I got your name into my other barrel, huh?" He takes his right revolver out, tracing his fingers over the initials he carved into the guns' barrel. "Yeah... it's real nice, huh?" He holstered the weapon again, looking down at you under the dirt patch for a moment before looking up at the sky. Somehow, it always looked the prettiest when he'd visit you.

"That's you, ain't it, sweetheart?"

The sky was a mix of neon oranges and pinks, slowly fading into light, morning blues as the sun made its way up the horizon. The clouds were nowhere to be found, letting the sun pass into another day. Another day he spent with you.

"Hi to you too, my sweet girl."

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated! Finally finished this fic dear God. I want this man so bad its unreal chat.

45 notes · View notes