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freedomfireflies · 1 year

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Hi! Can you do a Richie Boyle smut short where he has sex with the reader who happens to be Francis’ sister because he is jealous about how close Francis is with his father?

“You again.”

The deep, salacious purr slips over your shoulder as you feel a warm chest press against your back.

You recognize the voice. The accent. The smell of his cologne, and the incessant need to seek you out just to intimidate you.

You don’t want to feel intimidated by him, but sometimes…you just can’t help it. Because despite Francis’s warnings, Richie has always had this…ability. This effortless talent to draw in the attention of everyone in the room.

Maybe it’s because they know he’s the son of one of the most dangerous mobsters in Chicago, or maybe it’s just his charm.

Either way, he certainly always has your attention.

“Richie,” you greet, willing yourself to sound uninterested. “You’re early.”

You catch his nonchalant shrug out of your peripheral as he reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette. “Or maybe your brother is just late.”

“He’s in another meeting,” you explain, glancing back just in time to watch him light the object between his fingers. “He’ll be here soon.”

He takes a long, slow drag, eyes falling over your face before he exhales the smoke from his mouth and tsks, “Not soon enough.”

With that, he brushes past you and further into the warehouse, leaving you to stare at his back.

“Let me guess,” he calls over his shoulder, removing his hat and tossing onto a nearby table. “He’s with my pops.”

You straighten up, taking note of the slight edge woven between each word. “Yes.”

Richie chuckles. A dark, almost sarcastic sound. “Of fucking course. Always. S’always fucking Francis, isn’t it?”

You don’t really know what to say to that, but you suppose it’s more of a rhetorical question as he suddenly spins around to look at you.

“And let me guess…” he says again, now taking a deliberate step toward you just to watch your lashes flutter. “They sent you…to keep an eye on me.”

You go deathly still as he begins to approach. You don’t want him to know he’s right, but you suppose he’s smart enough to have figured it out.

Francis didn’t think he would. In fact, nobody suspects Richie of being sharp enough to do anything.

You don’t know him very well, but even you can see that that’s an unfair assumption.

“They sent you…” he continues, head cocking as he studies you, “to keep me out of trouble.”

He’s closer now. Much closer and your heart begins to race as the light catches the golden hue in his eyes.

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but find that you have nothing to say. What can you say? You can’t lie to him. He’d surely have you hung if he found out.

So, you go with Plan B. “They did,” you agree, breath hitching as you anxiously await his reaction.

He’s quiet for a moment, regarding you with what looks to be amusement as his tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip. “Yeah? You gonna keep me out of trouble?”

Again, you have nothing to offer him. No quippy remark, no argument—nothing.

And you want to berate yourself for the way you’ve gone so soft but there’s something…about him. Some shift in his demeanor that’s caught you off guard.

Francis has made comments about Richie for years. Calling him spoiled, weak, a waste of goddamn hair.

He’s painted him to be this narcissistic monster with no charisma or soul.

But the man before…is not the man your brother described.

This Richie is…well, breath-taking.

And he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he sees. And perhaps that’s all part of some act, but…for right now…you choose to believe it’s real.

His hand lifts, long fingers finding your jaw as he follows the sharp curve to your chin. Then, he takes hold and tilts your head up.

“I asked you a question, mama,” he murmurs, and you swallow.

“I don’t think I could ever keep you out of trouble,” you answer honestly, and you’re rewarded with a proud smirk.

“Is that right?” he hums, letting his thumb ghost over your bottom lip. “Well…maybe a little trouble is exactly what I need.”

You straighten up. “Yeah? And what makes you think you could handle it?”

His palm instantly moves back to your jaw as he squeezes—hard. “Better watching your fucking tone, honey.”

“Yeah? Or what, Rich?” you retort, offering him a small but incredibly smug smile. “Hm? What are you gonna do without your little henchmen?”

He hesitates for no more than a second before he’s tossing his cigarette aside to grab onto both your hips and shove you back against the nearest support beam.

You gasp to hide an excited whine, the wind nearly knocked from your lungs at the force of his aggression.

His palm comes up to your throat, fingers tapping your pulse point as he squeezes just hard enough to make your head spin. “Say it again.”

You squirm, a needy pit growing in your stomach at the devious expression on his face. In his voice. His touch.

“Say it,” he hisses, lips dangerously close to your own. Taunting you with a taste. “Or beg me to prove you wrong.”

You’re practically panting, hands finding his shirt to clutch onto the material and urge him closer. “Rich…”

“What?” His head cocks, mouth once again dancing up in a condescending grin. “What, mama? What do you need?”

His fist snaps closed around your throat as you inhale sharply, your lashes fluttering until he’s satisfied with your reaction, and loosens his grip again.

“You,” you whisper, but it’s teetering on the edge of a whimper. “You, Rich…please—”

He kisses you, quickly, and fervently. And it’s full of unspoken desire and need, his tongue tangling with yours as you just about slide down the beam.

“Nuh-uh,” he growls, using the hand on your hip to force you back up. “Not going anywhere, sugar. Gonna stay right here. Where I can ruin you.”

And maybe you know better. Maybe you know Francis would never forgive you. Maybe you know that you’re only a pawn in the game Richie is so desperately trying to play.

But maybe you just don’t give a shit.

“Hurry,” you murmur, head falling back as he kisses down your throat. “They’re gonna be here soon. He’ll kill you if he knows.”

Richie’s arrogant reaction is obvious to you even without being able to see his face. “And who says I fucking care, hm?”

With that, he moves to your dress, bunching the excessive material up so he can slip underneath and find you.

His fingers drag deliberately slow along the band of your underwear. And when he dips down to tease your clit over the fabric, you gasp again and straighten up onto your tiptoes.

He laughs, too pleased with himself for making you fall apart so easily.

He was right. He could ruin you. He’s going to ruin you.

And perhaps that’ll come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow.

But for right now…

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

LISTEN, I EDGED YOU JUST A LITTLE BIT, I'M SO SORRY BUT IF YOU EVER WANT A PART 2, LET ME KNOW, AND WE CAN FINISH WHAT WE STARTED 🤪

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#dylan #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien character #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien x reader #richie #richie boyle #dylan o'brien richie #richie boyle request #richie boyle blurb #richie boyle x reader #richie boyle x you #the outfit #richie boyle smut #smut #angst

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dylnsohbrien · 1 year

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#dobedit #dylan o'brien #the outfit movie #richie boyle

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obriengf · 3 months

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BESTIES

send me a number ask and a dylan character from HERE, so we can gush about how perfect and beautiful they are, okay bye :)

#dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #stuart twombly #thomas tmr #tmr thomas #joel dawson #sam taylor #richie boyle #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #mitch rapp x reader #tmr thomas x reader #thomas tmr x reader #joel dawson x reader #stuart twombly x reader #sam taylor x reader #richie boyle x reader

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

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—𓆩[house on the water (r.b.)]𓆪—

**I’ve literally been thinking about this since I watched the outfit. you don’t have to have watched the outfit, just know Dylan O’Brien is a fine ass mobster with a Jersey accent. slight angst, little bit of fluff, very toxic relationship (remember Richie is a guy from around the 50s raised in a crime family, he’s a bit of an asshole and misogynist but you change that later on) but Richie promises he’ll get better, definitely maybe a bit OOC Richie, mdom turned msub, I got carried away, most likely gonna have a part 2**

Richie had come in right before closing, as always. Leonard had stepped out because he wasn’t feeling well, which was odd because he almost never left, leaving you to take over closing.

You were busy folding the handkerchiefs that Leonard was way too anal about, but followed how precisely he liked to fold them into long rectangles unlike the previous secretary, Zoey. You were glad when she left, mainly because she always eyed your boyfriend Richie every time he came in. Especially with the fact that she always gave Leonard more work when she wouldn’t fold the fabric correctly.

You sighed as the bell rang, looking up as Richie and Francis came in. “Leonard isn’t here,” you say as Richie slipped an envelope into the box in the corner, Francis humming.

“Where is he?” Francis walks over and sits on the table as you quickly move Leonard’s prized shears, setting them on the separate counter.

“He didn’t feel well,” you explain as you set a stack of folded fabrics on the other desk. “I told him to go to the hospital.”

Francis grins. “You couldn’t take care of that, darling? Thought you were a nurse.”

You glared at him as you turned around. “I was a nurse, Francis. Didn’t keep my certifications up whenever my daddy got sick,” you say as Richie whistles. “Don’t whistle inside my work, Boyle, you will call the demons inside.”

Francis laughs as he jumps down from the table, quickly trapping you between the desk and him. “Aren’t we already inside, darling?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pushed him back. “You keep trying that, you bastard, I’ll have my daddy throw your body on the side of the road like the trash you are.”

He shoves you back, glaring. “You talk big until-”

Richie quickly gets between you two, cocking his revolver as he pressed it to Francis’ lower abdomen. “You better keep your fucking hands off my woman, Francis. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You start to grin, rubbing Richie’s shoulders. “Shoot ‘em, Richie,” you teased him, Francis rolling his eyes with a scoff. “Make him bleed.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Francis says as he walked out. “I’ll be at the house, Richie!”

You come out from behind him, watching as he uncocked the gun and put it back into the holster. You go to the fabrics, resuming to fold them up as Richie slowly comes behind you, hands settling on your hips. “What’s for dinner tonight, doll?”

“Whatever your maid is cooking up at home,” you say quickly, straightening out your dress before you grab another stack of fabrics. “You ain’t coming home with me.”

He rolled his eyes. “And why the hell not?”

You let out a laugh. “Why the hell should you? You haven’t come home for the past three days.”

“Hey,” Richie says, forcing you to turn around as he pressed you against the table. “You better remember who you’re talking to, doll. I paid for that pretty ass apartment you got right on the water, I can come home whenever the fuck I want.”

“Give me a number, Richie, I’ll fucking pay you back,” you hissed in response as he takes off his hat, pulling his gun from his holster to press it to your chin. This wasn’t the first time you had been held at gunpoint by Richie Boyle, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Pull the trigger, Richie Boyle, I dare you.”

He scoffs out a laugh as he cocked the gun, your hand pushing into your skirt Leonard had custom made for you with pockets. “You’re way too fucking bold for your own good, woman.”

You take out your own revolver, pressing it to his groin as you raised a brow. “At least I have bite behind my bark, Rich.”

He pauses, eyes flickering down as you do the same, cocking your gun. He huffs out a laugh as he uncocked his gun, trailing it along your jaw before tucking your hair behind your ear with the muzzle. “You’re so pretty, darling. It’s a shame your attitude makes me want to put a bullet in you.”

You roll your eyes as you uncocked your own gun, sliding it back into your pocket. “You’re such a charmer, Richie.”

He groans dramatically as he threw the gun onto the table, taking yours and doing the same. “You’re so bold, y’know that?”

“I think you forget I’m not one of those good little girls begging for a taste of bad,” you roll your eyes as you turn, grabbing your revolver that matched his, the only difference was yours had his name engraved and his yours. “You know I’ve been fucking gangsters since you were playing with yourself.”

He grins as he grabbed his revolver, slipping it back into his holster before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and a lighter. “But I’m the best, right darling? I’m the one that can make you cum the hardest?”

You giggle. “Sure, handsome,” you say, taking the lighter and the cigarette he slipped between his lips between your teeth before lighting it. You take a long drag as his tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lips before you blow the smoke into his face. “You can think that.”

He chuckled as he takes back the cigarette, doing the same you did before pulling your lips to his and blowing the smoke into your mouth. You hum, exhaling through your nose as he holds the cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers. “I know that, darling. I’m the person who’s got you clawing into the bed every night.”

You hummed. “Except for the past three.”

His eyes roll back as you push him off, grabbing the fabric and putting them in a box so they wouldn’t start to smell like smoke. “Don’t start with me, Y/N! I fucking hear enough from-”

“Don’t you talk to me like that, Richie Boyle!” You yelled at him, stomping over to take the cigarette from him and press it dangerously close to his Adams apple. “I’m not a fucking whore who will let you talk to her however you please. If you want to talk to someone like that, I’ll start packing my bags now and leave that fucking apartment you said you bought.”

It wasn’t a lie. He did buy the apartment, you just kept up with the bills. You made enough from Leonard and the monthly checks your father sent you, even being able to stowaway some as a keepsake. You definitely didn’t need Richie like he thought you did.

“Fucking do it. I dare you.”

You throw the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with the tip of your heel as you turned around. “I’m fucking done with you, Richie Boyle. You think you can just come and go as you please and talk to me however the fuck you want? Think again, Richie, I’m not a girl you can fucking walk all over!”

He laughs. “Where are you going to go, darling? Hm? Don’t forget your daddy doesn’t own this town anymore, mine does.”

You turned around, gasping as he grabbed your hips and pulled you into his chest. “And you know what that means?” He grinned, leaning down, his smoke tinted breath fanning onto your lips. “I own everything in this town. Including you.”

You shoved him, fists clenching as you turned around. “Fuck you, Richie.”

“Where are you going to go, huh?!” He yells, following you through the tailor shop. “Look at me. Look at me!”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to turn around before your hand connected to his cheek, slapping so hard that the noise echoed across the walls. You gasped as his head stays facing toward the side, covering your mouth as he clenched his jaw. As much as it shocked you, you certainly didn’t regret it. “You better fix your fucking head, Richie Boyle. I am not an object that belongs to you, and I’m certainly not going to stand here and take your shit. I am not the cause of your frustrations and I’m certainly not going to be on the receiving end. Now let me go.”

His grip loosens as you walk toward the end of the room, grabbing your coat from the hook before slipping it on. “I’ll have my stuff out by the morning. Daddy will send people to get my things in an hour-”

“Y/N.”

You sniffled, wiping at your cheek. “We’ll talk about who will keep Kingsley,” you say, talking about your German Shepherd that you found on the streets. “But I doubt you’ll want him because you never fucking did anything for him. Daddy will send a car to get me in a few minutes, I’m going to call him.”

You couldn’t walk out of the room before he softly grabbed your hand, pulling you into his chest. “Doll, look at me.”

“No,” you say, attempting to push against his chest as you stared at the now insanely attractive ties. “Let me go, Richie.”

“Y/N,” he says, his other hand softly cupping your cheek to get you to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You inhaled sharply, those were not words you had ever come out of Richie Boyle’s mouth. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, stroking your cheek with a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, doll, I am. Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

Your eyes narrow, squinting at him as you shook your head. “I’m not dealing with your shit, Richie. I’m not, never again. I don’t fucking deserve it.”

He shook his head. “I know. I know, darling, I know. You don’t. I promise, I promise I’ll try,” he lifts your hand to his lips as you bite your lip, holding back a sob as he kissed your knuckles. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’ll be better. I’ll be better for you. I’ll come home every night, I’ll stay with you until you wake up, I’ll take care of Kingsley and let him onto the bed if you want. Just don’t leave.”

You shake your head. “You’ve said this before, Richie. I’m not going to be a fucking dumbass and listen to you again.”

“Why the fuck do you think I bought you that apartment, huh?” He snapped, the hand on your cheek going to hold your jaw. “So I knew where the fuck you were every night. So it was in my fucking territory and I can fucking protect you. Because I know you fucking love that stupid marina for whatever reason you’ve never fucking told you. Why do you think I want to do that, hm?”

You paused, looking up at him. He was so close. “You can’t even say it, can you?”

He scoffs, looking away before you tried to pull your wrist from his grip. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to be with a fucking coward who can’t even say three fucking words,” you snapped, trying to pry his hand from your wrist. “Let go of me!”

“Why are three fucking words so important to you, huh?!” He raises his voice before you gave him that look, oh that look that always put him in his place. “Why do you want to hear them so bad? Why does it matter if I say it or if I show it?”

“Because you don’t fucking show it, Richie!” You yelled at him, finally getting his hand off of your wrist before pushing him back. “You don’t show it or say it! All you do is come home, ask for sex, then leave! I’m not your personal fucking whore, got dammit! You don’t say it, you don’t act like it, for fucks sake, sometimes I wonder why I’m so fucking in love with you!” You inhaled deeply, covering your mouth. “I’m leaving, Richie, before something happens that we can’t undo.”

Richie licked his lips before covering his mouth, looking away. “You’re in love with me?”

You laughed bitterly before scoffing. “I was, yeah, Richie. Now I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not going to fucking stay with a coward like you. You might be all strong and shit in every fucking area of life, but you’re a fucking coward in this one,” you grabbed your purse, turning around. “I’m not going to stay with someone who’s too scared to love.”

“I love you.”

You paused. Why did it take him so long to say it? Was it just because you were leaving? The fact that the great playboy Richie Boyle wasn’t going to get someone he wanted?

“I love you,” he repeats, walking over as you start to take off your coat and put your jacket onto the hook before putting your purse over it. “Y/N, I love you.”

“You should leave, Richie,” you whisper, turning around to cross your arms over your chest. “I still have work to do, and I’ll be damned before I let you push me out of my job.”

He walked over, slowly crumbling to his knees in front of you. “I love you.”

“Get up, Richie,” you say, trying to go around him before he grabs the back of your thighs and pressed kisses over your dress. “Pathetic isn’t a good look for you.”

It was a lie. Pathetic was an extremely good look on him. Everything was a good look on him, for fucks sake, he was Richie Boyle.

“You don’t think so?” He teased, rubbing your thighs down to your calves through your dress. “Thought you liked it when I’m on my knees.”

You scoffed, yelping as he pulls you flush against him. “Richie, I’m not dealing with your shit-”

“No more shit, darling,” he says, kissing at your hip. “I’ll show you. I promise.”

A gasp falls from your lips as he starts to lift up your skirt, bunching it up at your waist as his hands go to your pretty lace underwear. “You want me to stop, doll?” He asks, licking a firm line from your cunt to your clit through the fabric. “All you gotta do is tell me.”

“Fucking hell, Richie,” you whisper, covering your mouth. He always did this, always. You both had gotten into fights before, and they always ended like this: sex against the closest surface. Not this time though. “Richie, stop.”

He pauses, looking up at you confused. “Why?”

“Why must you ask why? You don’t need a reason, I told you to stop!” You shove him, going around his body as he rushes to stand.

“Hey! Y/N, don’t you walk away from me!” He quickly comes behind you, turning you around to press you against the table of ties. “Why the fuck are being so difficult, huh? I’ve done everything you’ve wanted!”

“Not when I wanted you to!” You yell back, the bell of the front door quickly covered by your shout. “You don’t try, Richie. I’m not going to deal with your childish antics like a little boy who doesn’t get the toy he wants.”

“You listen to me,” Richie says, voice shaking in anger as his hand grabs your jaw to get you to look at him. “I’ve been fucking trying the entire time we’ve fucking been together! Don’t tell me that I’m not trying!”

His yelling reminds you of whenever your father would yell at your mother before she walked out on him, immediately resetting his brain functions to where he found out how much he needed her and did everything she wanted to get her back. Your eyes were watering with tears just like hers used to, asking yourselves why you loved such a horrible man.

“Why aren’t you looking at me, huh? Don’t fucking-”

“Mister Richie,” a voice says, both of you looking to the side to see Leonard standing there. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s right for you to be talking to Y/N like that.”

Richie scoffs. “What’d you say to me?”

“Richie stop,” you say quickly, grabbing his jacket to pull him back to look at you. “I’m okay, Mr. Burling,” you smiled at Leonard, a sad, teary eyed smile. “I’m okay, Leo.”

“You hear that, old man?” Richie says as he grabbed your hand. “She’s fine. This might be your shop, but don’t forget who runs it.”

He looks at you, watching as you nod with a deep inhale. “I’m okay, Leo.”

Leonard shook his head. “You need to let her go, Richie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man,” he yelled at Leonard, quickly pulling his gun with your name engraved on it towards the older man, cocking it. “You want to talk to me like that?!”

“Richie, stop! Stop, please!” It didn’t click that you had your own gun, but even then, you wouldn’t be able to put a gun to Richie. “Just… just stop! I’ll do whatever you want, just leave him alone. Please.”

You quickly grab his gun, uncocking it. “Please.”

Leonard exhaled as Richie puts down the gun, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Let’s go, doll. I’m feeling pasta for dinner, sounds good?”

You nodded mindlessly, his hand resting in the small of your back before he pushed you in front of him. “I’m sorry, Leonard.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow-”

“No you won’t!” Richie yells as he gets to the door. “Tomorrow is date day. And night.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the door slammed closed. “I don’t have my purse.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I need my coat.”

“You can have mine,” he starts to slip off his jacket, slipping it over your shoulders as he blew into his gloved hands. He fixes his suit jacket, slipping his hand into the pocket that lounged near your skirt to take out his cigarettes and lighter. “You want one, doll?”

You shake your head as he holds one between his teeth, lighting it by covering it from the blowing wind to make sure that it lit. He inhaled deeply as you bring the coat closer to your form, Richie’s hand settling back into the small of your back as he fixed his hat. “You wanna do anything specific tomorrow, darling? Can take you shopping, we can go out to breakfast-”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t just pull a gun on my boss?”

He scoffs, puffs of smoke falling from his lips before he takes another long inhale. “You don’t need him, or that stupid job. I Can support you on my own.”

“Why? So you can hold it over my head like you did earlier? No thank you.” You scoff in response as he shrugged.

“I could just make you quit.”

“Richie Boyle, you better fix- mhm!” You hummed loudly as he holds you hips, pressing you to a brick wall as he pressed his lips to yours.

Oh, you hated how addictive his kisses were. His smooth lips and breath laced with smoke, slick tongue pushing into your mouth as the cigarette holding hand cups your face and pulled you closer. “I wouldn’t make you do that, doll,” he says, smiling. “I know how much that stupid tailor makes you happy.”

“He’s a cutter,” you correct, shaking your head. “Not a tailor.”

“Whatever the fuck he is,” he says, taking the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply before blowing into the cool night air. “We should… invite him over for dinner one day.”

You shake your head, trying to push him off. “You say that now, but as soon as the time comes, you’re running for the hills.”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, stroking your lips with his thumb. “I’mma make you happy, doll. I’mma make you so fucking happy.”

You inhale shakily as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the cigarette burning quicker than normal in the cold air. “Richie, I’m not dealing with your shit anymore. You got too many strikes.”

He shook his head. “I know, doll, I promise I’ll do better. I swear.”

You softly pat his cheek as he smiled at you. “You better, Richie Boyle.”

“I love you, Y/N L/N.” He says, loudly and confidently. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled, stroking his hair. “I love you too, Richie Boyle.”

part 2 maybe?

#asterias-record-shop #requests open #richie boyle #the outfit #the outfit 2022 #richie boyle x reader #richie boyle x fem! reader

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7thleveldown · 1 year

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So, I did a thing.....

.... because, well, the obvious, really.

#dylan o'brien #the man looks good in a suit #richie boyle #the outfit #zoey deutch #mark rylance #the o'brien effect #beautiful human #so expressive without saying a word #could he tip his hat to me please?#although his reaction would probably be the 2nd one #but a girl can dream

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ohwowimlonley · 2 years

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There's almost no Richie Boyle content..Zero ultra sfw with him? Thank uu

[join the party!]

Richie is an absolutely awful cook. Truly, truly terrible. Even making toast he somehow manages to set something on fire. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying, though. Every night, when you breach the door to the kitchen, you’re met with clouds of smoke and a very freaked out Richie wafting a tea towel about as if it could possibly help.

“Sunshine!” He’d beam, dropping a steaming pot that smelled of charcoal into the sink, shucking an absurd pair of hot pink oven gloves and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. He’d look at the sink, guiltily, “I think we’re gonna have to order in. Again.”

#•megs ask box•#•megs talks•#•megs 100•#•megs pretty daydreams•#richie boyle #richie boyle x reader #richie boyle fluff #richie boyle smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien moodboard #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan obrien smut

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dreamsfromthesandman · 2 years

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Alright y’all! So I totally thought this was a request but maybe it wasnt. Please tag yourself if this was your request! Gif is not mine.

————————————————————————

Y/N stood at the bar fuming. She hated the way Mable flirted with Richie. She ordered another Scotch and threw it back, it not making it any easier to see him with her. Y/N was not a trusting person by nature having grown up in the mafia in her home country. She has been in America since she was 10 years old and can conceal her accent if needed.

Richie and y/n kind of grew up together their fathers having been friends since y/n moved here. She loved Richie but he did not feel the same way. He loved her like a sister and nothing more. Maybe that’s why y/n didn’t trust Mable. She seemed to perfect for him. She had him wrapped around her pretty little finger.

“You know, you two should get a room,” she hissed. They couldn’t keep their hands to themselves at all.

“Aww, y/n, and leave you here all alone?” Richie asked.

“Not like you’re talking to me anyways,” y/n mumbled as she sipped her scotch this time.

Mable just stood there. She knew that you guys grew up together and typically didt get in between you guys. Although, sometimes y/n wished she would just so she can show her whose boss. She can’t handle Richie. A real woman is the only one who can and that was y/n. The women are trained to manage the boys and the boys are trained to do tasks, example being kill, steal, rough up others.

“Such a stick in the mud,” he said under his breath and motioned for another drink.

“I think youve had enough,” y/n spat.

“And I think someone’s jealous,” he gave her a side smile. Mable hid her giggle.

“Yeah, ok,” she sipped again, “if I’m jealous of you then I must be more drunk than I thought. Anyways we have to go to discuss tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Mable asked, she knew a lot but not everything.

“Nothing for you to know,” y/n spat again. Her big boobs smooshed on the bar top, leaning in to push the glass back. Being short at only 5 foot, she wasn’t that ferocious but she could handle her own.

“Got damn, woman, you are being a bitch,” Richie stated. Men typically never spoke that way to women, but in the business it was negotiated.

“So what if I am, I am you’re superior and I said move it.”

“I can take him over if he doesn’t want to go now,” Mable finally spoke, “I have to get going anyways as I have to work in the morning.”

“Yeah, see, y/n, Mable can take me.” He pointed at her.

“Whatever,Boyle. Be there.” And y/n strode out, her bubble butt attempting to bounce in her trousers but they were too snug.

“Short and mighty that one,” Richie said as he downed the last of his drink, “let’s go doll face.”

Mable started up her car and Richie gave her directions, “is y/n jealous of me?”

“Of you? No doll face. She’s just like that,” Richie replied and lit a cig.

“Well she has nothing to worry about. I’ll take good care of you,” she cooed.

Richie didn’t say anything at first, just enjoying the ride. They were passing the Taylor shop and Mable stopped.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I just have to run and get something, I’ll be right back.”

She flittered away from the car and disappeared from site. Another car pulled up behind him as he waited. He noticed in the rear view mirror and was getting his gun ready without moving too much as he didn’t want to give it away. Car doors sounded and he jumped out ready for a gun fight but so we’re they. 2 shots rang out before a shouting came from the group.

“Richie!? Oh shit,” it was Francis.

“Jesus, Francis! Why’d you shoot me!?” Richie held his hand over the wound and fell to his knees.

“You look real suspicious in the car. Wanted to be sure no one was jacking our spot. Let’s get you inside.” He hoisted Richie up and out his arm over his shoulders. They busted through the door and Mable was no where to be found. Mr. Burling was there, startled by the racket.

“Master Richie, Francis. Good evening. Are you hurt master Richie?”

“Yeah, he’s got a marble. Can you take it out and sew him up?” Francis spat as he dropped Richie on the table.

Mr.Burling was looking over the wound and moved Richie around, “I’m afraid he needs a doctor.”

“No he doesn’t. You can sew him.”

After some back and forth, Mr. Burling sews him up and Richie just laid there, passed out from the pain. At this point, a lot of time as passed since the meeting was to have started. The phone rang and Francis ran to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Y/n’s voice rang out.

“We’re at the taylor shop obviously, all because richie got shot—“

“He what!? I am on my way. Don’t fucking move.” And with that the line went dead. Francis looked at the phone and put it back on the receiver. He noticed there was only one car in the street now. He didn’t think anything of it until he realized it was the car Richie got out of. Who was here with him?

“Hey richie, rise and shine,” Francis called out and splashed some water on his face. Richie came too for a few moments but was very pale.

“What the fuck man!”

“Y/n’s on her way.”

Richie’s face was all scrunched up, “shit. She’s gonna kill me. Literally.” He looked around for a moment, “where’s Mable?”

“Mable wasn’t here, sir,” Mr. Burling stated.

“Yeah she was. She said she had to grab something and I was waiting in the car for her,” Richie recapped. Mr.Burling just shook his head.

“There’s no car out there now,” Francis stated.

“Maybe she just came to the front and didn’t come see me,” Mr. Burling stated.

Y/N busted down the front door just then, stomping through.

“Richie, you better have a damn good excuse.” She shouted.

Francis just stifled a laugh as he knew Richie was going to get it but y/n turned on her heels to him.

“You. I said to find him, not shoot him. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t take a simple order-“ she kept going. Her 5 foot frame becoming redder with anger and she kept getting louder shouting at all of the men in the room.

“Hey, cool it-,” Richie put a hand on her shoulder and he was met with an elbow to the ribs. He howled as she was right above his wound.

“That’s what you get for not listening to me about Mable. She just left your ass,” she was in his face. Mr.Burling just stood there, not wanting her wrath but he could help but notice that Francis went to the parlor.

———————-more to come——————————-

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