"what on earth are you doing, miss. johnson?"
"fixing my lashes,"
"and why, miss. johnson, are you fixing them as yushikamov's men are currently fucking firing at us?"
"so that if i die, at least i die cute,"
-------------
Angel Johnson is an aspiri...
Marie's Movie Magic: If you have never seen Ocean's 8, go see it. That's it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! OR YOUR ASS FINNA BE IN JAIL!" Angel shrieked loudly as she felt the heat of the recently used gun tickle her forehead in waves. Her heart raced in her chest cavity, but her brown eyes never backed down from his forest-green glare.
"Do explain to me, darling, how you expect to put an experienced assassin in prison?" The man coldly inquired in that delicious British accent of his, and Angel could have sworn she saw his plump lips twitch and his green eyes twinkle in amusement.
But, she had to be seeing things.
Okay, Angel, it is time to put your awesome acting skills to the test. You are a boss-ass bitch, you got this!
"Before I entered this house, I told my mom that if I wasn't out in exactly 15 minutes, she should call the cops. It's been 13 minutes," Angel hurriedly rushed out, eyeing the huge gold clock in the grand living room.
When the man didn't even blink, she continued, "A-and my brother is outside waiting for me with his finger on the call button to 911; if I'm not outside in 2 minutes, he's going to be calling the police faster than a Karen in the presence of Black people."
Shrugging, the man cocked his head, not moving his gun away from her forehead. Then, Angel had the privilege to witness one of the Wonders of the World: a smile from the handsome specimen of a man currently holding her captive.
Gahdamn.
Sure, it was rather sardonic, but boy, was it a beautiful sight. If Angel felt her beating heart speeding up at the stranger's sarcastic smile, that was nothing compared to how her body reacted to what he did next.
Slowly, he approached her, a foxy smirk still ever so present on his face. His strong fingers manipulated the warm gun to stroke her temple, green eyes boring into her soul, roaming over her face, filled with a desire to devour her. His gaze briefly stopped over Angel's lips, and the weapon of destruction he held trailed over her glossed lips, ever so slowly, ever so slightly.
Then, he drew even closer to her, gun on one side of her face, him on the other. His tall frame towered over Angel as his other empty, gloved hand caressed her head, stroking the curls of her auburn wig.
Lord, I'm about to drop my drawls for this man who finna kill me.
Her breath stuttered as his soft lips gently brushed over her ear, allowing her to get a whiff of his delicious cologne.
"What if after putting a bullet in your pretty little head, I take your phone, text your mother, and head outside to kill your brother, all under 2 minutes ?" Thump thump. Thump thump. "However shall I end up in prison now, darling?"
Now, let the records forever show that Angel Maliya Katrelle Johnson never did learn how to control her mouth and her facial expressions. Ever since she was a child, this was one life lesson her mother had failed in teaching her. Or maybe Angel was just too hard-headed or stubborn to grasp the art of diplomacy.
