Twiddling - Whitey Winn
Request: Here’s a fun one for Whitey? How bout when he is locked in the cell, the reader takes this to her advantage. She won’t let him until he sings and she just stands there with the keys in her hand waiting for him to sing. In the end he gives in.
Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR STILES STILINSKI!
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“Come on, Y/N.”
You smirked, biting your lip as you continued to twirl the keys around your finger. Whitey sighed heavily, leaning against the barred gate that kept him from getting to you and the damned keys that would let him out.
Raising a brow, you took a step forward. You were just an inch away from Whitey being able to reach through the opening and grab the keys, and you were well aware of it. “I think I made myself perfectly clear, Whitey.” You grinned, licking your lips.
Cocking your hip out, you let your free hand rest against it, clutching the keys in your other hand. “Sing,” you paused for dramatic effect, “and i’ll let you out.”
“This is ridiculous,” Whitey huffed, letting his forehead fall against one of the bars. “And humiliating.”
You only hummed in response, turning around and making your way over to Whitey’s desk. You noticed his precious guns left on the gun belt sprawled across the top of the wooden desk, and your smirk grew wider, amusement flooding your gaze. “What’s this then?” You questioned, siding his gun out from the gun belt.
“These your precious guns?”
“Y/N,” Whitey immediately straightened out, his eyes going wide. “Don’t play around wi-”
“Why?” You questioned, amusement falling from your face. “Think I can’t handle myself?”
Whitey’s lips parted as he desperately tried to scramble for a response. “No, i-it’s not that. It’s ju-”
“Calm down, Whitey.” You laughed, setting down the gun. “I’m perfectly away how special these are to you, I won’t mess them up.... if you sing for me.”
“You’re evil,” Whitey sighed, “a new kind.”
You only tilted your head, waiting.
Whitey’s cheeks flushed, growing red as he paused, obviously thinking over what he’d do. Eventually, after watching you twirl the keys tauntingly before him, he sighed, shoulders slumping. “Fine, fine, i’ll sing.”
Your eyes twinkled.
The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah The ants go marching one by one, The little one stops to suck his thumb And they all go marching down to the ground To get out of the rain, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
You smirked, clearly satisfied as you begun making your way over to the jail cell. “See?” You giggled, sliding the key into the lock. “Was that so hard?”
Whitey huffed, once again, stepping out with a frown. “Yes, yes it really was.”
You only laughed.
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