iambrealynn
honestly don't know what i'm doing or how i got here
105 posts
Latest Posts by iambrealynn
I don't care what anyone says, I WILL NEVER agree with the decision to have Steven "With You 'Til The End Of The Line" Rogers ABANDON his best friend to go with Peggy. Fuck Marvel for that, respectfully.
I read the hobbit 🤨 in 1937 😐 when it first came out ☝️
you dont understand i have to make little jokes. it’s how i survive
collection of useful things tumblr has taught me:
even if you can't fall asleep, laying down with your eyes closed will still rest your body
you don't have to brush your teeth standing up
you don't have to do any chore standing up, from dishes to showering
you don't have to shower with the lights on
if you can't brush your teeth, flossing and a tongue scraper gets rid of plaque and bad breath
if you can't do that, mouthwash kills a lot of bacteria
eating "unhealthy" food is better than eating no food
you can make the same meal everyday for however long you still want it
some pills come in syrups or chewables if you can't swallow them
kids nutritional shakes can be a quick way to get fuel if you can't eat/don't have time
if walking hurts/exhausts you on a regular basis, canes and rollers are for you, no matter how young you are
we have free will—if doing something "out of the ordinary" makes life easier for you, do it
i feel like an old maiden in dating culture. girls, don’t settle <3 do what makes you happiest!
at this point if no Sam cameo in Thunderbolts I am jumping outta the window
SYMBOLSSSS 4 U
❦ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ ᶻ 𝘇 … ೀ
사랑 ૮꒰ྀི ୨ ៸៸៸ ୧ ྀི꒱ა ❤︎ ໋𓈒 ◍
౨ৎ ୨˚̣̣̣୧ ୨୧ ੭୧ ೨౿ ೀ 𝜗ৎ 𖧁୧ ꪆ୧ ೨୧ ୨ৎ 𝜗౿ 𑄽𑄺 ᧔᧓ 𝒢𑄺 𝜗𝜚 𝜗ৎ
⦃ ⦄ ⦅ ⦆ ⦇ ⦈ ⦉ ⦊ ⧼ ⧽ ﹙ ﹚ ﹛ ﹜ ﹝ ﹞ 𓆩 𓆪 ꒰ ꒱ ཐི ཋྀ ପ ଓ ⊱⊰ ઇଓ ⪩⪨ ꒰ఎ ໒꒱ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ᠀୧
𓎟 𓎡 𓎢 ✿ ❀ ｡ ˚ ˳ ∘ ◡ ◠ ᴗ ᴖ ╭ ╯ ╰ ╮ ⟢ ⟣ ⟡ ❛ ❜ ❝ ❞ ☆ ★ ✦ ⋆ ✰ ✮ ✩ ✧ 𓈒 ₊ ⁺ ʚ ɞ ⁾ ₍ ₎ ⁽ 𓂃 ♡ ♥︎ ⌣ ⌢ ⠀╬⠀╪ ⌓ † ⏖ ⊹ ✙ ✚ ⦂ †⃨⃰ ⠀།† ‧̍̊ ི ⠀⦅ྐ✚͜͡⦆
◞◟◝◜⠀˚. ˖ ۫⠀♱◌⠀𖥟⠀·͙⠀𖧧̣̥⠀𖥨᩠ׄ݁⠀༢ུ⠀𓉳 ◟ ͜ ◞⠀◜ ͡ ◝
⊃ ⠀◌ ⠀┄⠀ 𝒢 ⠀◞⠀ ⁺⠀ ⥰ ⠀𓍢 ⠀𓂃 ⠀𓂅 ⠀𓏲 ⠀ᴗ⠀ᴖ⠀﹒⠀♰⠀♱⠀☆⠀★⠀✦⠀✰⠀˚⠀｡⠀。⠀˳⠀﹐⠀†⠀┄⠀𓂅⠀⊂⠀⊃⠀∪⠀⋂⠀✿⠀―⠀﹢⠀﹘⠀𓈊⠀𓎟⠀𓎡⠀◠⠀◡⠀ᶻz⠀╰⠀╮⠀╭⠀╯⠀◞⠀ ◟⠀◜⠀◝⠀ıllı⠀ꜝ⠀⚢⠀⚣⠀⚥⠀₊⠀𝜗𝜚⠀﹫⠀♩⠀𓏲⠀𝄢⠀∿⠀⊰⠀⟡⠀⊹⠀ʬʬ⠀꜆⠀ ˘⠀➴⠀♪⠀═╪⠀⩇⠀︵⠀﹑⠀⇄⠀⇅⠀⇉⠀—⠀ꜜ⠀♫⠀⥰⠀⤷⠀◌⠀♡⠀♥︎⠀⦂⠀⋌⠀⋋⠀⁾⠀⟆⠀⬭⠀⬬⠀＞⠀＜⠀︿⠀⍵⠀﹙⠀﹚⠀⏆⠀🜲⠀❛⠀❜⠀➳⠀⿸⠀┈⠀⪩⠀⪨⠀➷⠀⌓⠀₎⠀⤹⠀✻⠀─⠀✾⠀⊢⠀⤶⠀﹏⠀❀⠀⫟⠀↶⠀⟡⠀▽⠀⑅⠀⏖⠀↺⠀↷⠀⁘⠀═╬⠀⟢⠀⸝⠀❝⠀❞⠀⿻⠀﹕©⠀━━╋━⠀✞⠀𝄞⠀╱⠀╲⠀⠀⌣⌣⠀⠀⌢⠀⠀♮⠀⁺⠀ꜛ⠀﹪⠀⚘⠀⭒⠀︶⠀✧⠀ᵎ⠀⭑⠀˒⠀˓⠀﹗⠀⁾⠀⏦⠀˼⠀𓏏⠀×⠀✮⠀✩⠀⧼⠀⧽⠀⩋⠀✺⠀𝜗𝒞⠀₍⠀✤⠀•⠀│⠀﹣⠀♬⠀𐐩⠀˛⠀➛⠀🝮⠀𓂂⠀⤾⠀❦⠀➥⠀☾⠀☽⠀𓈒⠀╬═⠀⬩⠀∬⠀〣⠀×⠀𐐪⠀ɞ⠀﹔⠀✸⠀𝛏⠀⨳⠀⏇⠀𓎟⠀𓎢⠀𓎡⠀𓎠⠀𓏏⠀𓌔⠀𝒢𝒞⠀𝜗𐑞⠀𝒢ϱ⠀𝜗⍴⠀𝒢℘⠀𝜕ℯ⠀ ◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞ ♡⃟͚̊ ‧✧̣̥̇‧ 𓃹 ᦸᩚ ꒰ꦼ ｡ﾟ ᨳ᭬ ྇ 🂱 𓋫 ︶ ☾☽ ✧ ◞◟◝◜ ◜ི◝ྀ ◝ྀ ୢ˚. ˖ ۫ ♱◌ 𖥟 ·͙ 𖧧̣̥ 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ ུᩧ ༢ུ ྀུ 𓉳 ໒ ᩧ꒱ ໒ ᩧ ꒰ᩧ৯ ꒰ᩧv৯ ཤ ཥ ^ིྀ ♡ྀི ꢆ ♡̶ ♡ྀ ♡̷ ♡̵ 𝒢 𝒢𑄺 𐔌 ꣓ ᘛ ᘚ 𑣿ྀིྀ ◟ ͜ ◞ ◜ ͡ ◝ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ 𓏏𓏏 𓎟𓎟 †๋ †ั ꒰͡† ☆ ★ 𖩤𖩣 𖩨 𖾞 𖾝 𖾜 𛱺 𛱻 𛱼 𝜗𝜚 𞥙 𑅛𑅫 𑐉 𑐈 𑒱 𑒲 𑙗 𑙙 𑙗𑙙 𑙑 𑙒 𑙕 𑚅 𑚮 𑜩 𑅝 𑅞 𑅕 𑅒 𑅫 𑅛 ꢸ ꢹ ꢶ ꣀ ꣑ ꣒ ꣑꣒ ꦃ ꦌ ꣑ꦌ ꧌ ꧊ ꦿ ꫂ ︩ ︪ 𐏐 𐏑 𐨿 𐨠 ᭟ ᭕ ᭔ ᭃ ᭂ ᬾ ᬿ ᬹ ᬸ ⚸ ❧ ❦ ⨢ ⨥ ⼎ 、 〟 ꒸ ꒹ ꢷ ु ो ऻ २ ६२ া ໃ ໃ𑄺 ༑ ༈ ༬ ༩ ༳ ༲ ႛ ႚ ℘ ꒰ ꒱ ꒰꒱ ཊ ཉ 𑁘 𑁙 𑁚 𑁤 𑁥 𑁨 𑁩 𑁬 𑁭 𑁯 𑄻 ᓭི ᓯྀ ✚ ᛪ༙ ✚ ᛪ༙ 𝄢 ❀ ꮽི ༏ྀ𑇒 ᩘ♱ྀི 𓉸ྀི հ 𓍼 𓏲 ༉ ℓ ་།་ ། ິ ꒦ີ ๑⃙⃘ ⋟ ⋞ ᓭི༏ ༏ᓯྀ ༏ ’ ༘ ˚ εϊз 𓋼 𓍊 ◛ ꈊ ✚ ꗃ ᩘ ❀ 𓎟⠀ ૮꒰ྀི ૮ ꒱ྀིა ა ૮ིྀ ིྀა ┣▇▇▇═── ℜ ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ ᐢ.ˬ. ᐢ ᦲ ᆺ ᦲ :‹ ♡̵ ❧⠀╳ ✕ ༻ ༺ ✁ ✃ ࿐ ༊ ᶿ̴̤᷇ ˒̫ ᶿ̴̤᷆ †⃨ ﹒ . ۫ · ᧔᧓ ˖ ࣪ㅤㅤꪮꫀ ⠀͡꒱ ·̩͙ ꒰͡𑁬 ྀུ ࿐ ﹒ ིྀ ˋૢ ೃ࿔ ִֶָ ᤴ ཐི ཋྀ ཐ ཋ 𓏴 𓏵 ࿐ ꪮ𑁨 𑁥𑄺 𑁘 𑁙 𑁚 𑁤 𑁥 𑁦 𑁨 𑁩 𑁬 𑁭 𑁯 𑄻 𓏶 ృ 𓂂 ࿐ྂ。 ๋ ั ꪇ ꪻ ꪮ౿ 𝜗౿ 𑄽𑄺 ᤳ ♱ ♰ ✟ ✞ ✝︎ ☨ † ┊ 𓋜 ．﹒ 𐙚 ೨౿ ੭୧ ౨ৎ ୨୧ ୨˚̣̣̣୧ ꔫ ꪆৎ 𖧁୧ ౨୧ ೨୧ ୨ৎ 𓈒 ݂۫ ׄ 𓈒 ׄ ̫ ೃ ಌ ʚ ɞ ᜊ ໒ ૮ ა ణ ഒ ᨳ ഒ ◜ ͡ ◝ ◟ ͜ ◞ ⑅ ೀ 𝜗ৎ ꒰ྀི ꒱ྀི ꒰ྀི ꒱ྀིིྀ ✎⠀⠀꒰⠀⠀꒱⠀⠀࿀⠀⠀౨ৎ⠀⠀︵⠀⠀Ⳋ⠀⠀⊹⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀୨⠀⠀ೀ⠀⠀ꔫ⠀⠀〇⠀⠀⍰⠀⠀ര⠀⠀ᝪ⠀⠀ ೀ⠀⠀ױ⠀⠀♡𝅼 ⠀⠀๑⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀꒪⠀⠀⟡⠀⠀✧⠀⠀✦⠀⠀ ꒩⠀⠀／⠀⠀✐⠀⠀᜴⠀⠀⠀⠀⃞⠀⠀⠀⠀⃝⠀✽⠀⠀ᰈ̠⠀⠀✩⠀⠀ꮼ⠀⠀ꮽ᤻⠀⠀▞⠀⠀⑇⠀⠀ᄶ⠀⠀⌒⠀⠀⌕⠀⠀‹𝟹⠀⠀ᄊ⠀⠀♡⃘ ⠀⠀⠀₊⠀⠀⠀˲˲⠀⠀ഒ⠀⠀᱖⠀⠀♡⃕⠀⠀✿𝆬⠀⠀￮⃘ ⠀⠀✩⃝ ⃝=͟͟͞ ✧⠀⠀♡⃞⠀ᜊ⠀⠀𖧧⠀⠀੭⠀⠀࿁⠀⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀⠀ꕀ⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀˙ 𐙚 ೨౿ ੭୧ ౨ৎ ୨୧ ୨˚̣̣̣୧ ꔫ ꪆৎ 𖧁୧ ♡ ━╂ ╬═ ❁ 𓊆 𓊇 𓌈 𓈀 ᕱ.ᕱ ࿔ ଓ ઇ ઉ ᧙ ᥐ ៸ ໒ ː ՞ Ꮗ ᴗ • ❍ 〔 〕 ⌜ ⌝ ⌞ ⌟ ꧔ ︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵ ᕱ୨♡୧ᕱ 𑁯 ╰┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮ ― ┄ │ ┈ ╱ ╲ ─ ﹏ ﹘ 𓌔 ═ ︶ ꔫ ꈍ ε з ଓ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ⸝⸝ ҂ ∪ ⋂ ⋃⊂ ⊃ ˗ˏˋ ˎˊ˗ ◣ ◥ ω ☆ ଲ 𐙚 . ˙ 𖧧 ₊ ˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ 𝟅𝟈𝞋𝞎 𝝑𝝔 𝜗𝜚 𝛝𝛠 ϑϱ ꝯϱ 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝒞﹒ ˚ ｡ ⠀。 ˳ • ◌ ⬭ ⬬ 〇 𓂂 𓈒 𓎟𓎟 ✚ ✛ ✜ ♰ ♱ † ✞ ✟ ☥ ☨ ⸸ ═╪ ═╬ ━━╋━ ☆ ★ ✰ ✮ ✭ ✬ ✫ ✦ ✧ ⟡ ⊹ 𝅄 ⭒ ♡ ‹𝟹 ❥ ♥︎ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ 𝄞 ﹐ ꜝ ﹫ ⦂ ﹪ ﹔ ︖ 𓂃 𓏲 ∿ ⊰ ❛ ❜ ⁘ ❝ ❞ © 𐐪ɞ 𝛏 ／ 𝇂 𐙚 ᶻz 𓈊 ⌓ ⑅ ⏦ ﹏ ✿ ❀ ❁ ✾ ❅ ✐ ⌕ ⸝ 𝇁𝇃 ıllı ﹘ ﹣ =͟͟͞ ⟅ıIIı⟆ “ ” „ ‟ ‘ ’ ‚ ‛ ᴗ ᴖ ⊂ ⊃ ∪ ⋂ ◠◠ ◡◡ ╰ ╮ ╭ ╯ ◞ ◟ ◜ ◝ ︵︵ ﹙ ﹚ ₍ ⁾ ₎ ⠀⌣⌣⠀ ⠀⌢⠀ ︶︶ ᵔ ⏑ ⏖ ˍ ⎯ ‒ ― ─ ─ ━ ┄ ┅ ┈ ┉ ╌ ╍ ➔ ➘ ➙ ➚ ➜ ➝ ➞ ⋆ ✰ ɞ ଘ ﹅ ՙ 𓄼 ｡ ✰ ⿻ ᕱ ⑅ ⌕ ◜ ◝ ◕ ◔ ⨾ ᕬ ꧔ ࿔ ✧ •᷄ࡇ•᷅ ୭✦ ♡ ˒˒ ، ꒦꒷ ᯽ ⋆ ✰ ɞ ଘ ﹅ ՙ 𓄼 ପ ᨳ 𖧧 ᨦ 𓂅 𓄹 ⍝ ﹆ ≀﹟ ‹𝟹 ៸៸ ✿𝆬 ৎ୭ ﹏ ੭ ໒〝 ҂ ִֶָ ꃋᴖꃋ 𖦹 ∞ ᘏ ᨒ 𖥻 ᠈ ꐑꗃᨵ𓈈 ⬫ 𓍯 ⩩ ♡̶！ ʾʾ₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ ՙ ૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა . 𖣯 ⋆ ˖ ࣪ ! 𓈈𓂃⬫ ׂ ׅ 𓂃 ૮₍ ៸៸ ᵜ ก ₎ა ֶָ ׁ ❁̶ (●´⌓`●) ᘒ ˖˙‹𝟯 ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀ ◌ ⊹ 🍸 ◜｡ ࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 ⊹○ﾟ˖ 𓆦 ₊˚ ※ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ 𖥦 ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ 𓂃ˑ ֗ ˖⋆⑅˚₊ ۫ ⁎ . 𓏲࣪ ּ ֗ ִ ּ ۪ ⊹ 𓄹 ࣪ . ݁ ٬٬ ࣪﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒〇﹒ıllı﹒ᶻz﹒⊂⊃﹒␥﹒⿸﹒ꔠ﹒✶﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒⬚﹒៶៸﹒△﹒→﹒✶﹒（）﹒▥﹒⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀➛ ׂׂૢ ╰┈➤ ✎ - ,, -‘๑’- ・❥・ ༊*·˚ ˗ˏˋ´ˎ˗ . *. ⋆ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧.* ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ·˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ .ೃ࿐ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ ⍣ ೋ ‗ ❍ ¡! ❞ ﹌﹌﹌ 彡 ▓ ღ ꕥ ‿‿‿‿ *+:｡.｡ •·.·''·.·• ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ * ˚ ✦ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- . . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . . ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞ - ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ✧˚ · . ˚ · . ༉‧₊˚. '•.¸♡ ♡¸.•' +:ꔫ:﹤ ﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ ୨୧ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ ≡;- ꒰ ° ꒱ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫⎙ ⩇ ⩉ ꐑ 𖣯 ⌕ ᨒ ᯤ ᯅ 𖤘 � 𖥦 ⏃ % 𓍯 𔗫 𔖲 𓂃 ﹆ ﹅ 𓄼 𓄹 ᭣ ꧞ 𓏲 𓂅 ꣼ ࿓ ࿔ ༄ ⌗ 𓈒 ⊹ 𖥔 ᨵ ꑘ ᜊ ᦒ ଘ ◖ ◗𖠗 ꗃ ٩ ะ ≛ ߸ 𖡡 𝆺𝅥 ꩜ 𖣠 𖦹 ❤︎ ♥︎ 𔘓 ♡ ᥫ᭡ ✶ 𖤐 ★ 𒀭 𑁍 ꕤ ❑ ❒ !i！？!!﹗⦂ 𓈃 𓄲 𓄴 𓈀 𓊔 ❝ ❞ ❛❜ ୨୧ ‣ › ⌫ ✧ ✦⭒ ✓ ✘ 𓈈 ᚙ ⩨ ▚ ₆⁶₆ ஃ ⿴ ⿻ ꭑ ᧑ 𐐫 𝗈︩︪ ꒰ ꒱ ʚ ɞ “” ⌨︎ ⚠︎ ꒰꒱ ☻ ✰ ❏ ˖* ೃ࿔ 𓆉◡̈ ꒦꒷ ✎ ᝰ ✿ ⚡︎ ☁︎ ⋆ ⋆⑅˚₊ ♡̆̈ 𓍲 𓍱 ꪔ̤̥ 𓍯 ꊞ 𓂃 ꕀ ﹆ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ⤾ ・°☆ ✎ ̼ ◡̈ ⑅ ♡̷ 𖦹 ･͛♡̷̷̷･͛ ᐧ༚̮ᐧ =͟͟͞♡ εїз ᙏ̤̫ ˳✧༚ /✿ ˙ᘧ ͜ ˙ ♡ ⊸ ꒰ ❛ ❜ ꒱ ♡⃕ ◡̈ ˚◞♡ ⃗ ʬʬʬ ༊·˚ ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖° ꪔ̤̥ ˙ ͜ʟ˙ ♡‧₊˚ ◡̎ ♡̷ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ 𓆸 ꔛ *﹆ =͟͟͞ ♡̩͙ ꙳ ⋆ ⸝⸝ യ *◞ ♡･ ͜ʖ ･ . ˚◞♡ ෆ ･῾ ᵎ ⌇ ⁺◦ *´ސު｀ ༘⋆ ꙳ ꕀ ꒰ 𖧧 ·͜·♡ ꒱ ღ ⋆ ꕤ ♡ ⊹ ★꒷ ᵎᵎ ₊ ⨾ ⋆ ʚ ɞ ✦ ♥︎ ∞ 𑁍 𓍯 ⸝⸝⸝ 𓅿 𖠋 𓍲 𓍱 𖥧 𖧧 ˒˒ 𖤣𖤥𖠿𖤣𖤥 𓇥 ֒ ☄︎ 𓆱 𓂃𓊝𓄹𓄺 𓌉◯𓇋 𓎩 ⸝⸝ 𓌈˒˒ ⍤ 𓆸 𓊆 𓊇 ꒰ ꒱ ˗ˏˋ ˎˊ˗ ⌇ ꪔ̤̮ ꪔ̤̥ • + . ˙ ✦ ♡ㅤ°. • °. ✿ * · ✮ . • • ⊹ . ✧ ⊹ ˚ * · ✮ . . ★ · ⊹ + * ⊹ °. * ✧ .𓈀 𖦥 ﹅ ンㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ
⤷ 𓂅 ◞ ⥰ by : yinnaers
fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him
biggest plot hole ever
@babsworlds stumbling upon this was the best part of my day today!
SCHOOL STRUGGLES.
pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader
synopsis. you struggle with school a lot, but no matter what, your boyfriend is always here for you.
warnings. angst, mental struggles, school struggles, no use of y/n. I decided to mirror my own problems into this fic. I struggle with school, and if you do too, you’re not alone, don’t be afraid of asking for help!
FOR SEVERAL LONG MONTHS, you’d been struggling with every aspect of school—grades teetering on the edge, studying feeling like an impossible task, and attendance becoming a burden you couldn’t bear.
Each night you went to sleep with hope and wishes to never wake up again, but when you woke up every morning, it was disappointing.
Your mind was locked in a dark place, a mental block that kept you from focusing on anything related to school. Books and assignments became like foreign objects, strange and impossible to engage with.
Most days, you found yourself wandering aimlessly, going anywhere other than the dreaded classrooms. School turned into a place you despised, filled with people you disliked, teachers who seemed to drain your energy with every word, and the endless homework that left you completely exhausted.
Dave, your ever-supportive boyfriend, noticed the change in you. He worried endlessly about your constant absence, knowing how much you were skipping school. He tried his best to help, offering to walk to classes with you, hoping that his presence could make it a bit easier. But despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to change, and your steps continued to stray from the school’s doors.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere at home grew tense and filled with arguments. Your parents’ patience was wearing thin as they saw you neglecting your only responsibility: school. “You only have to focus on school,” they’d remind you in every heated argument. Their anger and disappointment hung heavy in the air, making the walls of your home feel like they were closing in on you.
You were exhausted from failing every test, overwhelmed by the looming dread of yet another academic setback. Despite the frustration and disappointment you felt, the motivation to study remained elusive. It was an endless circle of anxiety and avoidance, a cycle that seemed impossible to break.
It was a late weekend night, and you found yourself on a video call with Dave. Your parents had forbidden you from going to his house for a sleepover because of your poor grades, adding to your already heavy heart.
“I’m so sorry, Dave,” you began to apologize, your voice heavy with emotion. “I feel like shit,” you said, gazing at your boyfriend on the notebook screen.
“Don’t say that, baby,” Dave tried to calm you down, his voice soothing and gentle. But the words did little to stem the tide of salty tears forming in your eyes. “I’m stupid,” you admitted, “and because of my grades, we can’t have a sleepover.”
Dave’s expression softened, his concern evident. “You’re not stupid,” he reassured you. “We’ll get through this together. It’s just a rough patch, and it doesn’t define you.”
The weight of your struggles pressed heavily on your heart, driving tears down your cheeks. “I wish I could just disappear. I wouldn’t care about the absence or grades,” you cried out, the hopelessness in your voice stark and raw. You wished everything would just end right then and there.
Dave’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “You know what, baby? I’m coming over. Just leave your window open,” he announced, his grin widening with excitement.
“Your parents forbade you from coming to my place, but they didn’t say anything about me coming to yours,” he smirked, always looking for ways to find a loophole and support his precious girlfriend.
“No, Dave, you really don’t have to—” you started to assure him, but he was already set on his plan. He hung up the call quickly, not giving you a chance to protest.
You couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope at his determination. As you left your window open for him, a small sliver of comfort crept into your heart.
Dave lived just two blocks away, so it didn’t take him long to reach your house. After a few minutes, you heard noises outside your window and spotted Dave climbing in.
“Hi, baby,” Dave smiled at you, pulling you into a tight, welcoming hug. “I missed you so much,” you whispered into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he kissed your hair.
You both sat on your bed, and once again, salty tears began to stream down your face. “I’m so shitty, why am I so stupid?” you choked on your tears, sobbing violently into Dave’s chest. “I’m a shitty student, daughter, girlfriend…”
Dave broke the tight hug and looked into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that again,” he warned gently but firmly. His eyes were filled with concern and determination, wanting to help you see the worth you couldn’t find in yourself.
“Just because you’re struggling now doesn’t mean it’s forever. You’re a smart girl. I know it,” Dave started, his thumb gently rubbing your cheeks.
“And I’m not exactly an academic weapon, but if you need help with studying, I’ll do my best to help you, baby,” he continued, his voice filled with unwavering support and love.
“I love you and I’m always here for you,” Dave said, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Those were the words you needed to hear.
“Tomorrow we can go for a walk, and on Monday, we can try to get you back into school,” Dave offered, gently tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear.
“I love you,” you replied, pulling him into a hug once again, feeling a sense of comfort and hope in his embrace.
forever my geek 💚🎀
silly dave lizewski texposts
yeah this might not be all 2010s accurate but im just doing this for fun bc the challengers ones always make my day THSI IS JUUST FOR FUNNN
Blue Bunny
prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 4.4k+
warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.
"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"
"The pink's rather nice."
"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"
Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.
"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.
"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."
"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.
"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"
"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.
"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"
"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.
You blew on your nails, admiring the color.
Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.
"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.
"I'm here," you smiled.
"Right, what color did you go with?"
You grinned, "Take a guess."
"Blue's your color."
"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."
He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."
"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"
"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"
"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."
"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"
"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."
"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"
"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."
"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"
You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."
"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"
"Collette's doing my nails."
"Ah, very good. What color?"
"A pretty pale blue."
"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."
You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."
"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."
"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."
"One of our associates is late on payment."
"How late?"
"A week."
"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"
"I'm stuck in Prague."
"Daddy."
"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."
"Who's the associate?"
"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."
"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"
"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."
"How much is the debt?"
"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."
"US dollars?"
"Yeah."
"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.
"Not the question I think you want to be asking."
"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"
"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."
"I'd rather take Samuel."
"No, he's doing a different favor for me."
"Daddy."
"He's making a delivery, all right?"
"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."
"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."
"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."
"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."
You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"
"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."
You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"
"Tell him what?"
"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."
You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.
"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"
You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.
"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.
Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.
Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.
Gunther checked the rest of the house.
"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."
"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.
"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."
"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "
"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."
"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.
"Up, up," you demanded.
Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."
"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.
"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."
"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "
Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.
"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."
"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.
"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.
"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.
"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.
Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.
"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"
"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"
"Collecting debt payment."
"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."
Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"
"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"
"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"
"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.
His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"
"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"
"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."
"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"
"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"
"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.
"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"
You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "
"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.
" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"
"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.
"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."
"I-I can explain, please - "
"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."
"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."
You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."
"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"
"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."
"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"
"Priceless," you nodded.
"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"
"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."
Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"
You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."
"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "
"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"
"Fucking do it, Dad!"
"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"
"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"
"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.
"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."
You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"
Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"
"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"
You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"
"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"
"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"
"I don't have it! Please!"
"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"
"Please - "
"You want a dead son!?"
"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"
You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."
"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.
You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."
Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.
"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.
Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.
"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."
"Like it?"
"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."
"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"
"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"
"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"
"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.
"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"
"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"
"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"
"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"
"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.
"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."
Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.
"Watch your tone."
"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "
"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.
"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.
"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.
"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.
"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.
"Yeh all right, Bunny?"
"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"
You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"
"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."
"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"
Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"
"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.
Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.
Call it morality.
Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."
He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."
"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."
"What happened?"
You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."
"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.
"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.
"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "
"That's my girl!"
" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "
"WHAT!?"
"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."
"Did you say contractors?"
"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"
"You mean hitmen?"
"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."
"Who? Who exactly was there?"
"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"
"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."
"What?"
"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"
"Daddy."
"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"
"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.
"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"
"Not entirely."
"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.
"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."
"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.
"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."
You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."
"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."
Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
GIRL GET BACK UP HE’S NOT AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON AND WERE NOT DOING THIS TO OURSELF AGAIN NO
when harry styles said “leave america”. he was so right
i get what dads r talking abt when they say theyre “just resting their eyes” this shit is awesome
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to watch something as a sane person. Like there are people who just watch a movie or show without needing the full context of every character?? Without needing to consume every other piece of media related???? Without needing to theorize and come up with their own predictions of what will happen next???? They just???? Watch?????? & their time in that world ends when the movie does???????? Crazy…..
I hate Crocs.
we don’t ask actors about their characterization choices enough for my liking. press interviews for shows are always like “what was the funniest moment on set!! which of your costars do you wish you had more scenes with!! pick 3 words to describe this season!!” over and over and over for eternity. give me the mic. i’m going to ask them why the guy they play Is Like That
"let people be wrong about you" is such good advice that i am unfortunately physically incapable of following. if i am incorrectly perceived by anyone i will simply start ripping things with my teeth
translation: when you're mad at me, remember this is who you're yelling at!!
When a woman is consistently spoken to softly & treated gently, she becomes a new woman. You're helping her heal her nervous system, you're helping her heal generational trauma, you're allowing her feminine energy to flourish, you're helping her to remember who she is.
having a uterus SUCKS man bc all day you'll be feeling the "hey bestie check your pants 😃 check it right now 😃 you might be getting your period 😃 hey bestie i think youre bleeding 😃" and then when you check if you got your period and your body is like WRONG ❌️ its The Slime
It's okay if it takes a little longer than you thought.
The sprouse brothers better feel like Italian today.
blocking me bc i didn't respond in time is wild, im a literally depressed and busy pookie bear