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qwimchii · 2 years ago

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 4) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

��𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸��𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 12𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘴 & 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 😞

note: oml. i cannot thank you guys enough for your patient. this took me a lot longer than i thought it would (i've been writing the whole day LMFAO). your patience and support has been literally amazing and i love each and every one of you. thank you so much 😭💐💞 please enjoy <33

you gasped, scrambling back into the bed.

the girl just stood there. stock still. like a ghost. eyes so shadowed in the darkness that they looked like two black pits staring at you.

your heart beat out of your chest, blood thickening to a slow gurgle, as you reached slowly for something solid on the nightstand. you made contact with the glass cup.

you were surprised by the amount of force in your voice. “are you here to kill me?”

she just stared, unblinking.

a roiling turmoil of heat built right in your chest, and you snapped, “are you one of Turner’s men?”

she scoffed, and it only added to the flame of your ire, before you heard the soft click of her gun cocking.

“no,” she said, defiant, turning her chin up at you. “but you do have a nice ransom on your head.”

her head tilted, taking you in with a dark look that raked across your body. “and i recognized that man you were with. Ghost, is it?”

oh.

your eyes narrowed. “how do you know him?”

the better question was how did she recognize him?

your heart sank.

“i’ve done business with him,” she said cooly, and your heart just sank further.

it made sense now. why she was standing at the door, her attention trained on Ghost, marching away when the other man told her to leave. she was expecting a customer.

maybe even a regular one.

then, she frowned at you. “not in ways that you are thinking.”

curling relief soared in your chest, and a weight lifted from your shoulders as you released a shaky breath.

she threw down the gun onto the floor and it skidded across the wooden floorboards, hitting the post of the bed with a thunk. mind clouded with confusion, you looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

she straightened her shoulders. “i’m here to save you.”

you blinked. save you?

“save me?” you squeaked, and her face twitched with annoyance.

“yes,” she said, striding forward to the bed, “we have to hurry. come.”

you scurried further back into the bed, yelping when you almost fell off the side.

she stopped in her tracks, watching you struggle in the sheets with flushed cheeks. quickly, you drew the yellow robe that was discarded on the floor around your body, hoping she didn’t see anything in the dark, and turned to her again, fumbling with the knot of it.

you were still holding the glass cup.

she looked down to it in your hands and then back up, mouth in twisted line.

embarrassed, you put the cup behind you on the nightstand.

“your father?” she chewed out slowly, “he has a ransom. he wants you alive.”

“what?”

“your father. he wants you—”

a thick cloud of confusion settled in your furrowed brow, and you shot out, “i thought Turner wanted me dead.”

the girl gave you a long look, face twisted and hands clenched into the fabric of her dress. “he does. your father doesn’t.”

your mouth fell open, tongue heavy, then closed again.

“are they not working together?” there was a little flicker of hope deep within yourself.

“they are,” she said with raised brows, “they are working to come to an agreement over you.”

your stomach twisted. you felt like puking.

you flattened yourself against the far wall of the room to stop the nauseating swirls of dizziness racking your mind, creating a marginal distance from the girl who loomed with a veil of impatience over her face, hands clenched by her sides and shoulders braced. a roil of fear boiled in you.

“you can’t take me,” you whispered, voice weak and trampled.

her frown deepened. “you want to stay with Ghost?”

“i am waiting for him,” you said carefully, and the girl scoffed, turning on her heel.

“do you think he will come back?”

your throat felt closed up. “what?”

“do you think he will come back?” she asked again, slowly, like you couldn’t understand her words. she pointed towards the low table in the room—there was a drawstring pouch you didn’t notice before.

“he left that for you at the front desk before he left. i came in to deliver it,” she explained, and you followed her line of sight to the gun at the foot of the bed.

ah. she came in to deliver them as well as threaten you. or save you, in her words. maybe both.

your eyes narrowed. “what are you saying?”

in the darkness of the room, you could see her roll her eyes.

“he left you money and that revolver.”

your head swirled, a pulsing headache building right in the base of your forehead. he left you these items—why? to protect yourself?

he said the brothel was safe.

a sour taste filled your mouth. why would you need to protect yourself if it was safe?

unless you left the brothel.

you fought the droop of your head with a sharp twinge of your heart, deflating from the inside out.

“he wasn’t planning on coming back,” she gritted out, sounding more impatient than anything.

“you don’t know that,” you snapped, “it’s not dawn yet. he promised me he’d be back by dawn.”

she grew very still. “why do you want to stay with him? has he not been using you for…?”

her eyes roamed down the revealing nature of your robe, then flitted back up to your eyes. her face was stoney cold. serious.

you stiffened. Ghost had promised you he would never bed you again for revenge. had he been telling the truth? you didn’t know.

“i don’t know.”

she scoffed again, muttering under her breath, “she doesn’t know,” and turning away, rubbing over her face.

you swallowed down the growing swollen tightness in your throat, a familiar burn building at the waterline of your eyes. “you don’t understand. if you give me to my daddy…”

she turned back to you and your voice faltered. “i don’t want to be a mistress.”

her stoney face crumpled, eyes narrowed with unease, but you pressed on, “my daddy. he owns a saloon chain and made a business deal with Turner—investment and protection.”

your voice dimmed, quiet and low. “i was part of that deal. my daddy was going to give me to Turner as his mistress.”

the girl was silent, stark still in the darkness, mulling over something in her swirling eyes.

“alright.”

your eyes snapped to her. “alright?”

“i don’t work for Turner. i don’t work for your father. i don’t work for anybody but myself,” she said.

you nodded slowly, trying to digest that, searching her eyes for a twisted lie, but only finding a blank stoney void and truth. instead, you asked, “what about Ghost?”

she paused for a moment, looking apprehensive, before explaining, “when Ghost was younger, and when the law used to be trouble for him, he would hide here in this brothel. he paid for my services for a week but didn’t touch me once. he wanted something else.”

something else? you thought, hands growing clammy and cold.

she turned her head from you. “he wanted my secrets. powerful people tell me too much in the midst of an intimate night. now, i recognize Ghost’s gesture for what it was. he was not being kind to me like i believed him to be.”

her voice was eerily void. “he wanted to use me.”

then, she said, “i was sold by my father for fifty american dollars.”

you flinched. it made you wonder how much Turner had promised your daddy in exchange for you.

her stare was glazed over, dark and unnatural. you suppressed a shiver and listened to what she had to say, clutching at the wall tighter when she slowly stepped forward towards you.

“i know what it is like to want to be useful. i, too, once believed that it was necessary for my father to sell me to feed my brothers. i told myself that the entire way by ship from china. then, i told myself that helping Ghost would give me purpose.”

her voice was stronger, and she drew so near you could see the swirling pattern of her crimson dress. “now, i am not of use to anyone except for myself. i worked hard to get here. this is one of the kindest and most well-paying brothels in the city. most girls only last for five years after being sold into prostitution.”

her words were icy cold. “i worked hard to survive.”

“i’m…” your voice failed in your choked up throat, pangs of heaviness breaking your heart apart. you wanted to apologize but that didn’t feel like enough.

she pinned you with a hard look. “i do not want your pity.”

you slowly sunk down the wall, till your backside hit the cold, hard floor, and you wrapped your arms around your knees. all your problems felt dwarfed in front of this girl, but you still shook with fear.

“i won’t go back to my daddy,” you whispered, words trembling, but defiant nonetheless.

she got on her knees, creeping towards you till she leaned against the wall in the spot beside you. the proximity of her body felt warm in the crisp morning of the room.

she was insistent, expression fierce and strong. “i will not give you over to him for money. ”

your eyes snapped to hers, and her hand slid over the floor into the space between you.

desperate, you searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “thank you.”

you took up her hand, and she squeezed yours with a strength that shocked you for her thin, petite frame.

“i will help you,” she insisted, and a curl of despair wrung your chest.

“you cannot help me, miss,” you said weakly, truthfully, “i need to wait for Ghost.”

she made a noise of deep frustration. “you do not.”

you closed your eyes, nose buried into your knees. “i have to.”

you felt her draw your hand into her lap, holding onto it with a powerful grasp. “he will not return. i prayed many nights for him to return too. but still, i will wait with you.”

the certainty in her tone felt soul crushing, and a truth from her own experience, but the tightness of her grip was an anchor that held you through the nauseating, racks of unease that pulled you like a tide.

you waited for the sun to peek up through the far windows of the room, overlooking a dip in the city that revealed a stretch of chinatown twinkling in the early, blue hours with loud ruckus, shouts, and clatters.

when the first bruised pinks and purples stretched the morning sky, and beams of orange had cast over your body, your head perking up as you squinting into its glare from over your knees, Ghost had still not come.

you moved through the city like a ghost—like nothing was anchoring you down to the ground except for the girl’s iron grip on your hand. she had almost never let go of you when you roused from your light slumber, letting her drag you from the room, pocketing Ghost’s money and his revolver.

you left behind your shattered heart in that room. you felt like you died in that room.

the girl had forced you into one of her few western-style, yet airy, dresses that still felt too revealing from the wardrobe of her small room in the upper floors of the brothel. but nobody stared at you as she pulled you down another avenue through chinatown, considerably cleaner and better groomed than the ones you had been on before.

you did not know where you were going—you weren’t sure if you cared. the girl had only said with a determined ferocity, i will help you, when Ghost had not come.

Ghost had not come.

it was like a splintering realization every moment.

she hauled you into the back of a busy shop, barely squeezing through the small frame of the door, opening it to a whirlwind of more women shouting in mandarin and bent over desks strewn with cloths, silks, garments, and clunky sewing machines that packed in the room. that same sweet smoke tinged the room and you resisted pinching your nose against the searing smell.

an older woman with grayed hair and a wrinkled face like a plum stepped into the girl’s path, shouting something at her, though not unkindly, to which the girl shouted back. the old woman stepped back with a nod, and you curled closer to the girl as many of the women in the room turned from their stations to stare as you passed before busying themselves once more.

the girl took you into the front store room, marginally more quiet than in the back, and adorned with a plush red carpet and racks of colorful clothing where some wealthy women perused.

then, she pulled you towards a raised platform in the corner of the room, where a red curtain hung by it and pushed you onto it. you stepped up, feeling uncomfortably light without her hand around yours, and she tugged the curtain around the platform without a word and a stricken face, shrouding the rest of the room from view.

you stood there for a moment, clutching against the wall and listening to the faint screeches of hangers dragging across their racks, light footsteps, and the bustle of the city from outside the store.

you jolted when she yanked open the curtain and quickly jerked it close behind her once more.

her face looked more serious than before—face screwed up in a tight expression and deep frown. you bit back a gasp when her arms flew to your shoulders and tugged her towards her, almost falling off the platform.

“listen to me,” she grit out with a clenched jaw, and you nodded quickly. “i cannot help you for long. tell me, what do you want?”

what do you want?

the question ran bated circles around your mind.

in a panic, you choked out, “i don’t know.”

she looked disappointed, but her grip on your shoulders only tightened, and you winced from the painful pulse in your injured joints. “you need to decide. now.”

she pressed something hard and cool into your hand and you looked down at the revolver in your open palm. the steel of it was engraved with trumpet vines.

you were reminded of several nights ago—when Ghost had first asked you the question.

“what do you want?” his hand moved to stroke at your cheek, your brow, your hair.

you never had the luxury of pondering the question. your path was always laid out before you by your mama and daddy. there was no choice. only lingering, bitter feelings of resentment as you fought yourself to believe that tending Daddy’s saloon and entertaining businessmen was the life you wanted.

“i dont know.”

“tell me.”

you had said you wanted him. now, you weren’t sure.

what did you want?

you looked into the dark swirl of the girl’s intense gaze, the inky hair that went down her shoulders in unfurling waves. did you want independence like her?

instead you asked, “why are you helping me?”

her face flitted with a tenseness but she held fast, unmoving and unshaken.

you pressed on, “what about the money? don’t you want the ransom?”

you felt eerily calm despite what you were alluding towards—her selling away your last flickers of freedom.

she shook her head. “i will not use you like my father used me.”

you stared at her. maybe, for the first time in your life, you’d met someone who didn’t want to use you for an advantage. maybe this girl was lying and would lead you straight into your daddy’s embrace again, and once your daddy smoothed everything out with Turner, you’d be in Turner’s bed every other night, satiating an old man with the warmth of your youthful touch.

or maybe, she was telling the truth.

“i don’t believe you,” you said, voice soft, and her grip slackened.

“you have to. tell me what you want.” she reached into the neckline of her shirt, and pulled something from her undergarments, revealing the drawstring pouch of the money Ghost left you.

she pushed it into your hand with the gun and closed your fingers around the heaviness of it, the clink of coins and rustles of paper feeling too loud in your ears, your mind swirling with effort.

you mulled over everything for the past week—only just seven days total. when you had met Ghost, one-four-one, their outlawed antics, los vaqueros. Kate’s expression when she left you at your train door, when you had challenged her about the truth of their revenge ploy, when you had escaped on horseback from the leather crafts shop.

the fullness of her eyes. the sadness of them.

you thought of john when he had an arm circled around your waist as he galloped on that chestnut through the small town, saving your life, and the blinding rush when you turned over your shoulder and shot that man gunning for John. you saved his life in return.

you thought of Soap’s kindness in the hallway of the train, the thick swell of his accent, the delight that bloomed across his face whenever he saw you. the vicious sober look that twisted his smile when he promised to get revenge on Turner.

you thought of Gaz and his proposal, the origin of his poor childhood that he had disclosed in hushed murmurs, and the warmth of his polite touch grasping your hand and pressing it to his chest. the youthful earnest in his face.

you thought of your daddy and your mama—preparing you for a life that you had never chosen. Turner’s mistress.

you didn’t know who to hate more.

you thought of Ghost.

maybe you should hate him.

your skin prickled in remembrance of his soft, warm lips, and gentle touch, the way he held you, his even softer words, his empty promises. the perfect lies he created with a smug look and twinkle in his dark eyes, more charming than his infamous reputation led you to believe.

more charming, terrifying, mysterious, and guarded than you had ever seen in a man.

he lied to you time and time again. you closed your eyes against the weight that dragged your entire body down—so heavy it was like it never wanted you to stand properly again.

the girl’s tight grip steadied you.

“i want to be wanted,” you said weakly, eyes fluttering open again to see the grim look on her face.

her jaw was clenched tight. “i did too. but that is not an option.”

your whole heart shattered all over again.

“i want…” you mind spiraled, “i want revenge.”

the smile that twitched into her lips was malicious.

“against who?”

you felt like you were floating. “Turner.”

your voice darkened. “my daddy.”

she nodded, a pleasant look on her face now. “good. i will help you.”

before she stepped away and off the platform, you shoved the pouch of money back into her arms.

when she shook her head to refuse, you pressed, tone cutting and vicious, “take it. or take me as a ransom so help me god.”

when she realized you would refuse to let her go uncompensated, either from the harsh tone of your voice, your words, or the twisted tightness in your face, she relented, and disappeared from the changing room again.

you steadied your breath, looking into the full-length mirror hung on the wall.

you didn’t look like the girl you were a week ago.

you were different now—sinful, vengeant, a murderer.

you thought that it suited you better.

the girl came back and took you to a different area of the store: through the compact kitchen, where she fed you something greasy, savory, and foreign that you consumed in mere bites, then you swallowed down a steaming cup of tea, and she helped wash in a tub.

rubbing and lathing up soap through your hair as you scrubbed down your body. she was unashamed of your bare state, and the newfound rush that boiled in your veins left you uncaring for it.

after you dried off, she took you to the upper floors of the store to a bedroom—the old woman’s, you recognized later on, when the elder woman brought in several elaborate dresses with a wry smile on her face. the bedroom smelled herbal and picante, you noticed, as you were stripped of your clothes again and redressed in the undergarments the girl lent you.

the old woman said something to you—pleasant with a bellow of laughter—before she trudged out the room with heavy steps.

when you looked at the girl in confusion, the only thing she offered was, “she was very happy the day her husband died. she hopes you can find that same happiness.”

whether it was an ominous omen, or a cruel joke, you couldn’t shake it as she laid out a pale evening gown of silk with patterned lilac flowers up the front. your breath hitched as you smoothed a hand over it, the beads adorning its hems, and the lace gathered along its short puff sleeves.

“i think it would suit you,” the girl said, face lax and fond as she picked it up from the bed and pressed it into your hands.

“how could i accept this?” you asked weakly, and she held up the drawstring pouch, jingling its contents lightly in your face, though not unkindly.

“i know my worth,” the girl said with a deadpanned simplicity that made you smile at the sheer absurdity of it all.

she helped you slide on the dress, over your corset and drawers, and sat you down at the chipped vanity by the windows where the natural light of mid-day came streaming through that aided you as she drew up your hair into a loose updo.

you used the powder, eyeshadow, and rogue on the vanity and painted your lips with a careful hand. the girl’s hand came to rest on your exposed nape, and you shivered, not used to the exposed air along your bare arms, neck, and chest due to the low bust of the dress.

the girl placed the revolver on the vanity beside you and you pocketed it through the slit-opening between the layer of your petticoat and dress.

you looked into the mirror of the vanity and the girl’s reflection stared back, expression placid and cool, easing your own nerves.

she said with confidence, “you look lovely.”

you winced at the word, grateful that it went unnoticed to her.

she continued, “tonight, when you reach Turner’s party, there will be violence and bloodshed.”

she slid a box of matches onto the vanity. “wreak havoc. he has run these streets for far too long.”

you pocketed the box with a nod, the box knocking against your revolver, watching her head tilt in the mirror.

“maybe one-four-one will run these streets in time.” a smile flashed across her face before it was gone. “i think things would become better.”

you reached back to grasp at her hand on your neck. “i will make sure you are better compensated when it happens.”

she blinked, eyes flickering with a curiosity. “you will work with one-four-one even after all they have done to you?”

with a sigh, you nodded. “they are all i know. i care too much for them.”

“and Ghost?”

you released her hand, looked away from the mirror, and trained your eyes on the bustling street through the window. “him included.”

you heard her shift behind you. “i cared for him once too. i hope it ends happier for you than it did for me. maybe in marriage.”

you grimaced. “you think i should marry him?”

she was silent for so long that you looked back at her from over your shoulder. she sat with an impeccable posture and a sad tightness in her expression.

“he has used you. he has hurt you. maybe he did not come this dawn to protect you. from Turner and from himself. although he has failed time and time again, maybe his intentions are with a good heart.”

good heart. you didn’t know if you could use those words to describe him.

“albeit, he did not know i would betray him like this. i stole his lover away,” she said with a mischievous look and an air of accomplishment that made you smile.

“are you not worried that one-four-one will punish you for it?”

she only shrugged. “what will they do to me? with this money—” she held up the drawstring, “—i will run away and buy property to live off myself. or i will marry a rich, powerful old man and wait until he dies like the old woman did.”

you laughed at that, remembering the pleasant look on the old woman’s face as she left the bedroom, full of delight and fondness at the memory of her own husband’s death. maybe, you could imagine yourself running a successful clothing boutique like this.

the image soured. you realized you could much better imagine the girl maintaining her own business rather than you.

you could better imagine yourself married with children—their blonde heads bobbing and dark brown eyes twinkling with delight. your chest deflated with a heavy weight.

she pulled you from your thoughts, a new stoicism to her face. “whatever you do with Simon, make sure you use him twice as much as he used you.”

you flinched at the proposition, but her resolve was like steel. you knew she meant it from the way she pinned up the last of your hair with steadied hands and a wall of iron over her elegant features.

for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed up in that bedroom, exchanging stories of your girlhoods. how you grew up in a small town embedded in the dusty, desert west, manning saloon bars and entertaining your daddy’s business partners. the girl told you about her childhood in china, the impoverished peoples in her town, and the ships that came to the nearby big city port that offered families sell off their young girls for services in america.

you had never been impoverished and you had never gone hungry. you listened with horror to the way she described the malnutrition in her town—the way her ribs hung over her sunken stomach, and the cavernous hunger that felt like shooting pains all over her body.

you were surprised when she was so stricken by the way you described the neglectful nature of your daddy and mama that you used to see as a different avenue of affection unique to your own family. she described her tight-knit relationship to her mother, how there was no veil of secrecy between them, only a flow of transparency unlike her and her father.

then, she described her first years in america. how she was starving more than ever with almost no pay, manipulating the managers of each brothel to transfer her, running from establishment to establishment until she found the wealthy brothel chain associated with one-four-one where she met Ghost.

she described him when he was younger—“bearing a quiet, devouring hunger for power,” she had said with such simplicity it almost made you grimace. he was brash and rash fighting the law until he bribed them out of it, she explained, growing his influence through the west through bigger investments and bigger bribes.

she admitted that in her naivety, she had seen his indifference to her as a kindness, and fell in love. she waited earnestly for months until his next return when he would give her a large sum and she would spill all her secrets of illegal business syndicates reinforced by politics within the largest western hub for organized crime—san francisco.

they would mule over long nights together, piecing together motives, crimes, big players, moving pieces, in a never-ending chess game of control over the western frontier between gangs. he had trusted her all with it.

“and i never betrayed him till now,” she reminded you with a wink. “i wonder what he would do if he knew i was leading his little lamb right into the lion’s den…”

you didn’t want to know the dark thoughts that churned in her head as you watched her ponder in silence, a hand to her chin.

soon, she was drawing a shawl over your shoulders and leading you down the steps of the shop, passing through that crowded room where the seamstresses worked, shouted, and trained their attention to you with a curiosity for mere moments before they looked down at the fabrics between their hands again.

you only saw a flash of the old woman’s dark smile, an impish look in her eyes, before she was turning away and disappearing into the fray.

the girl led you out of the shop and into the street where a horse and buggy waited with a coachman at its head. it was the manager of the brothel. he grinned at you, sinister and eerie, gold tooth flashing.

when you faltered, she explained easily, “i organized it for your arrival at the party. it needs to look convincing.”

she helped you up into the carriage and you slid into it, smoothing over your dress and tugging at the shawl to keep any of your exposed skin from showing in the light of the early evening. she handed you a pair of white gloves that you slipped on and then a pearl white mask with light purple feathers.

“you have done too much for me,” you said, feeling guilty as you peered down into her face, but she shook her head.

“i told you i would help you. i have. now, you owe a debt to me,” she said, voice low and laced with threat. you suppressed a shiver but nodded eagerly nonetheless.

“i thought i was saving you from one-four-one. then, i thought i was saving you from your father. mostly, i’m saving you from yourself,” she mused, and you felt stumped as you pat your knee with a softness.

“what do you mean?” you asked with a furrowed brow, jolting when she closed the door of the carriage in your face.

you heard the coachman hitch the horses with a shout, and the carriage began meandering slowly up the road.

you hung out the window with a panicked alarm, but she only grinned at you.

“we are the same in many ways, sister!” she shouted over the clop of hooves and the wheels churning over stone as the carriage pulled away.

sister. you had never had one of those.

“what is your name?” you called, and she shouted back, “Yue-Yi!”

the big grin on your face made your cheeks ache as Yue-Yi waved, wishing you could say so much more as she grew smaller and smaller in the distance, a shorter figure joining her by the sidewalk to wave goodbye. when you squinted your eyes, you could make out the frizzy grayed hair of the old woman.

turning back into your seat in the carriage, you tied the mask onto your face and steeled your nerves, grasping the revolver and matches through the layers of your gown with a eerie calm that settled over you like a thick veil.

as you neared Turner’s estate, more carriages coalesced into a line, queuing up to its large, sprawling and trim lawn, adorned with hedges and fountains that twinkled in the low light of the evening.

you craned your neck out the carriage window to get a glimpse of the sheer architecture of the residency—massive and victorian, with pointed roofs and limestone carvings. you had always thought your home was impressive in your small town but this mansion dwarfed it.

the carriage lurched to a stop, horses whinnying with a stomp. you waited with bated breath in front of the great, arched entrance of the place, listening to the coachman walk over to the door of the carriage and open it, offering a polite hand.

you took it, ignoring his gold-toothed smile and tossed your shawl back into the carriage quite rudely. with the new exposure of your skin, and the growth of his grin, you jerked your hand back from his and gave him a rushed thanks.

but before you made your way up the steps to the elegant entrance, lined with guardsmen in black three-piece suits and fashionable bowler hats, where more guests lingered for admission in fancy attire, you turned back to the manager of the brothel, puffing up your chest with a new confidence.

“you,” you snapped. his brows rose in reply, sly smirk only growing more, much to your discontent.

“yes?” he said, stepping forward. you stepped back.

“Yue-Yi is one of your best workers, no?”

his mouth open and closed before nodding, that greasy smile never leaving his lips.

“you should increase her pay,” you said, impressed by the cool indifference of your own manner.

turning on your heel, you spoke over your shoulder, “or else she might find better avenues of self-employment.”

he paled slightly at that, smirk dropping from his face, and you smiled sweetly, making your way up the steps before remembering yourself. you turned back to him and his pale, stiff disposition before curtsying with the most properness your mother had ever taught you, then continued your ascent to the doors.

you didn’t look back to see if he still lingered with that dumb, pale look on his face. the very thought made you grin bigger.

the line slowly trickled through the entrance as the guardsmen checked names off a list. a new nervous fervor built in you. looking around the lines, and at women and men who lingered together in their own parties, you sidled closer to a loud, unsuspecting woman and her two other female friends, all donned in light yellows and dark magentas and fanning themselves.

when you were just steps from the entrance, the women gave the guards their names, and you craned your neck to see the interior of the residency. lavish, loud, overly decorated in golds and marbles. nothing you would expect less from the old, obnoxious Turner.

“good evening, miss,” one guardsman said, and you jolted from your thoughts, eyes snapping to his. he tilted his head. “your name?”

“i…” you felt stupid, mouth opening and closing, not sure of what to do when—

you crept closer to him, hoping it went unnoticed to the distracted parties around you, and his brows rose slightly, a strange look crossing his face.

you snuck a gloved hand onto his arm, his gaze lingered at your touch, to the exposed skin of your low-cut dress, neck, then your eyes. you cocked your head, sliding your hand up his arm.

“mary smith,” you lied with an ease, and he nodded dumbly, looking through the list. you knew that he wouldn’t find that name and he knew it too.

he cleared his throat, shifting under your touch. “no chaperone, miss?”

you wanted to curse yourself. you had become so accustomed to running off through the west without a chaperone that you had completely forgotten an unmarried, young lady needed one at all.

“maybe you could suffice, sir,” you whispered with a light giggle, and watched with amazement as a slow pink flush crept up into his ears and cheeks.

he cleared his throat again, gesturing to the entrance and avoiding your eyes, “i’m sure our boss wouldn’t mind one extra, lovely young lady.”

you smiled at that, sliding your hand very lightly across his chest as you glided past him, biting back a snort at the way he stiffened under your touch.

crossing the threshold, you stepped into the grand entrance hallway filled with people and you almost melted with relief. making an effort to get lost in the crowd, you snaked in between bodies and conversing groups, their faces adorned with feathered masks and glasses of wine between their gloved fingers.

gliding through the rooms of the residency, you wondered how you would ever find your daddy or Turner in this mess. you stiffened at the thought of crossing paths with one-four-one by mistake.

wringing your hands nervously as your head whipped around between the loud, noisy surroundings, you realized for the first time how utterly alone you were in this mansion.

hundreds of people may have been stuffed into the place, but you were the sole person on this mission, and whether one-four-one had shown up to this party or not, you were the sole person who knew your own plans to kill the party host and turn tail.

with his death, hopefully, you could carve a good chunk of your daddy’s money out of his business. you quieted any alarming thoughts about your mama.

a large drone of partygoers began moving slowly towards the opposite side of the room, and you followed the crowd into the main family room that dwarfed the houses of your small town. looking up into the curve of the ceiling adorned with paintings, a large chandelier hung down into the cavernous room littered with tables of food and colorful banisters.

at the head of the room, near a fireplace, a man stood in a crisp black suit and bow-tie with a curling black mustache and greased black hair flecked with grays on a platform. Turner.

you hadn’t seen his beady, blue eyes and grim, twisted face since dinner with him, your daddy, and mama since months ago along with that haughty wife of his, who stood proud and arrogant by his shoulder.

your mouth soured at the sight of them and you felt around the skirt of your dress, feeling the handle of your gun through the layers.

if you shot him now, could you run away in time? and if they caught you, what would happen?

Turner took a glass cup and clinked a spoon against it, grabbing the room’s attention as it diminished into a silence.

you grasped the gun tighter between your hands.

“thank you for coming,” he said, low, rumbly voice ringing out over the crowd. “we are here today—” he reached back and you watched with amazement as a little girl stepped up onto the platform, grasping onto his hand with a shy, meek look, “—to celebrate my daughter’s birthday.”

your stomach curled at his words, grip going slack against your dress.

if you had shot him right there and then, in the midst of this swarming crowd, maybe you could’ve slipped away easily in the scrambling panic of the crowd. but he would’ve dropped dead, blood oozing from his in a dark puddle, right in front of his own daughter.

the thought made you feel nauseous.

the tall, broad frame that creeped up beside you startled you with a jolt, and you looked up to find an incredibly tall and massive body of a ginger man with a black mask tied around his face. he had his hands behind his back, looking lax with an arrogant smirk on his face. he peered down at you from his shoulder.

“hello there,” he said quietly, under the words that Turner continued to bellow to the crowd. his accent was foreign. maybe german.

“this is an interesting party, no? with masks and such,” he gestured to the crowd, and you struggled to find words.

“i guess,” you croaked, voice scratchy and thick. his smirk only widened.

“what are you doing in this big crowd without a chaperone, little lady?”

you wanted to shrink away from him at that moment, feeling awkward and exposed under the burn of his gaze.

“i have business to conduct.”

he laughed loud and throaty, earning a few hostile glances from the people around you, and you winced, trying to step away and disappear into the crowd but his big hand came to rest on your shoulder and you went impossibly stiff.

“i do, too, little lady.”

he bent down closer to your ear and you shivered. “how do you know, Turner?”

your mouth opened and closed.

“family connections.”

his eyes widened beneath the mask—the color an exotic pale green that you had never seen before.

“really?” he shifted closer to you and you tugged at his grip on your shoulder, trying to move away but the strength of his massive body easily overpowered your own.

“can i tell you a secret, little lady?”

you shook your head with a strong, “no,” but he continued you anyways.

“i know you have a gun in that pocket.”

you went impossibly rigid, breath catching in your throat and he chuckled lowly in your ear.

“i don’t know who’s paying you, but they’re incredibly clever, hiring an innocent-looking little lady like you. you almost fooled me.”

you grit out through a clenched jaw, “and just who are you, sir?”

he released you with an, “ah, my apologies, i need to remember my manners.”

you turned to him, craning your head up to look up into his face, shoulders set with frustration at the prospect of somehow being… caught.

he sighed out, sounding disappointed. “you should know me if you’re in this sort of line of work, but i guess i’ll tell you my name.”

then, he gave you a lop-sided smile. “i’m Konig.”

you blinked at him. “okay.”

the smile slid off his lips. “okay? haven’t you heard of me?”

there was a bitter taste in your mouth as you shook your head slowly, and his face crunched into deeper disappointment. you almost regretted giving him the reply that you did, and you would have, if he didn’t start going on a tangent about himself.

“you should know me,” he insisted, putting a hand to his chest, “i’m Konig. i’m very famous in this line of work. i work under kortac.”

your brows pinched together, neck beginning to ache just from looking up at him.

he only sighed again. “i guess americans don’t know kortac. no matter. i’ll just have to kill you before eliminating Turner.”

at that, you jolted, beginning to scramble backwards as he reached out to you once more.

“wait—!” you shrieked, crashing into a trio of ladies that shrieked on impact, flailing as you turned to flee from the large man, but a loud, splintering shatter echoed through the entire room and the lights flickered overhead.

everything stilled and you stopped in your tracks. you looked up into the ceiling, at the chandelier overhead, stomach dropping when you saw the thing sway, then with more ear-rupturing splinters, in almost a slow-motion, began to crash down to the floor where you stood.

the entire room flooded with screams and shouts as the crowd scrambled out of the room. bodies pushed against yours and you almost fell to your knees, screeching when a hand hoisted you up and pushed you forward toward a narrow hallway stemming from the room.

a harsh german accent was in your ear, “fick mich—move, move, american!”

you did, as fast as you could, through the snaking crowd, and you clutched at your ears with a scream when gunshots rang through the room.

and when you turned to look over your shoulder, you saw a familiar broad body, clad in all black with a black mask, a tussle of dirty blonde hair shaved down on the sides of his head and pieces that hung down his forehead, and a silver scar on his upper lip with a revolver raised and aimed at Turner.

you couldn’t turn and go back with Konig’s massive body blocking your path and urging you forward. picking up the hem of your dress, you pushed through the squirming crowd and into the narrow hallway.

a resounding crash shook the entire mansion, and you almost fell to the ground again from the vibrations of it, but Konig picked you back up and pushed you behind a curtained area in the nook of the hallway.

when you were obscured from the rest of partygoers rushing through the mansion, Konig turned to you and put a hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and the other hand shoving a revolver right beneath your chin.

you clawed at his grip on your throat, glaring into the emptiness of his green eyes. with the last of your strength, you spit on his face, and he drew back his hand around your throat to wipe it away with a look of disgust. you scrambled away from him, gulping in breaths of air, but he only reached out and pulled you back with a tight grip around your arm.

you whipped your head back at him, trying to kick at him, but he pressed you to the wall with ease and a curiously amused look.

“you are not very good at this, little lady,” he admitted, and that only pissed you off.

with all your strength, you stomped as hard as you could on his foot, and he hissed out, reeling back but not easing his grip on you at all.

“i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you shrieked, wriggling, and his brow furrowed.

“no? were you not hired to kill Turner?”

“no!” you almost screamed between desperation and frustration, and he released you. with a gasp you crashed to the floor.

“really?” he asked, helping you up with a tight grip that sent another flurrying panic through you, and you squirmed out of his touch. this time, he let you.

“yes,” you said, exasperated, fixing the dishevelment of your dress, and Konig stared at you, revolver laying limp by his side.

“oh,” he said, quietly, and you just glared at him, sending him a strange look when he began to fumble with his hands. now, he wouldn’t look at you, strangely awkward and apprehensive.

“sorry,” he mumbled, and you huffed, taking the moment to pull out your own revolver and dig it into his stomach.

he barely responded—just giving you that same distant, awkward look.

“you’re right,” you hissed, cocking the gun, and his brows only raised slightly as you continued, “i wasn’t hired to kill Turner. i’m doing this on my own accord.”

that seemed to pique his interest because he tilted his head, shoving his revolver into the breast pocket of his coat. “oh? pray tell, american?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s none of your business, sir.”

you drew back the curtain and stomped into the hallway, looking around and unsettled by the eerie quietness of the place. most of the partygoers had emptied the mansion already, only distant gunshots and shouts and crashes of noise vibration through the place.

when you saw Turner’s men barrel past a couple corridors away, you rushed backwards with a squeak and almost screamed when you crashed into Konig’s big chest.

he looked down at you with a blank look and a steadying hand on your hip that you immediately swatted away. instead, you hurried down a corridor in the opposite direction of where Turner’s men had been headed, and felt an increasing annoyance when Konig started following you.

you turned to snap over your shoulder, “go away.”

the quiet thuds of his footsteps faltered and then picked up again and you huffed with annoyance.

turning fully to him with crossed arms and your revolver still in hand, he stopped a marginal distance from you with a hurt look on his face.

“what?” you asked, and his frown only deepened.

“let’s make an agreement, little lady.”

“why should i do that?” you asked honestly. “you’re a criminal and an assassin.”

the blank look he gave you only pulled you into self-reflection. technically, you were also a criminal, and mere steps away from a self-employed assassin.

“you want to kill Turner,” he said, and you jolted when more gunshots only got louder, maybe mere hallways away, but he continued without so much as a blink, “and i want to kill Turner for money. let’s make an agreement—i will let you kill him if you let me lie to my superiors and say that it was in fact i who killed him. otherwise, i will have to kill you for getting in my way.”

your stomach curdled at the easy way he said it.

when a smug smirk twisted his face, you winced at the sinister nature of it. “besides, you need me. i am very good at my job, no? my name is Konig for a reason.”

you mulled over his offer. what he proposed was reasonable and made perfect sense. although you didn’t know what Konig meant, you assumed he earned the name for a respectable talent in his profession. killing people.

but could you trust him?

you looked over the relaxed nature of his body, smug and arrogant and cocksure you would take up his agreement. you could trust him just as much as the devilish outlaw who earned his name for murdering without a trace—Ghost.

“alright, Konig,” you said bitterly, “let’s see how much you can offer me.”

his smirk only grew. “i can offer you a lot of things, little lady,” he sang, that arrogant look on his face only inflating as he turned on his heel and headed directly towards the gunshots.

faltering, you fell close in step behind his massive body and felt a panic when the gunshots and shouts sounded closer. he sent you a smug look and turned sharply into a different hallway, your head on a swivel for stray people as he led you into an immense library.

“why are we here?” you asked, turning in a circle to take in the multiple levels of the place.

he didn’t answer you, only walking up to a case of books on the far edge of a book-filled wall, and reached far back into its shelves where he searched around for something with a face of concentration. you watched with unease, looking over so often at the entrance of the library with your revolver in hand.

something clicked in the wall. your eyes widened in amazement as Konig stepped back and the bookcase shifted with a squeaking grown, slowly pulling pack and screeching to the side. behind it was a narrow, dim stone corridor lit with electric bulbs.

“see?” Konig offered, hand reaching out to you, “i can offer you much more than murder, little lady.”

rolling your eyes, you took his hand and scurried down the corridor quickly for fear of the vulnerable exposure in the immense library. Konig led you down the path blanketed with a thin layer of water, the corridor dripping water overhead, and a musk, dank smell in the air. his big back was the only thing you could see in the dim lighting of the narrow hallway.

you tried to quell any lingering thoughts of anxiety coursing through you—what if Konig had taken you down here to kill you?

what if he was actually one of Turner’s men posing as a hired assassin?

that almost stopped you in your tracks, and when he sent you a confused look from over your shoulder, filled with nothing but focus on the task ahead, you scurried forward again, closer to him than you had been before.

through the never-ending winding corridors, Konig seemed to maneuver them with an eerie precision and ease, sometimes stopping to observe the halls with a sweeping glance, and then continuing ahead without so much as a word.

soon, the winding path tracked into a sharp incline until you reached a dead-end. Konig searched over the surface of the stone wall with his gloved hands and pressed around till there was a soft click and the thing stuttered open with a groan.

he gave you another victorious smirk and helped you through the entrance with a polite hand that you took begrudgingly. you entered into a bedroom this time—one that looked untouched and picked clean.

probably a guest bedroom, you realized, then jumped forward with a start when the entrance of the corroder began sliding shut behind you. it was a bookcase like before, and you watched in awe as it dragged shut backwards into its nook, settling with a cloud of dust.

Konig waved at it with a cough and strode forward to open the bedroom door and into the hallway. you followed him quickly.

peering down the empty and deadly silent hallway, you spotted a carved wood banister of a staircase at the end of it and realized that you must’ve been on an upper floor now.

“we are near Turner’s bedroom now,” Konig said, and you cocked a brow at him.

“how do you know all of this?” you pressed, and he shrugged.

“i memorized the blueprint.”

you resisted rolling your eyes, and instead with a tinge of sarcasm said, “impressive.”

he puffed up with pride and a strong nod. “i know.”

you allowed yourself to roll your eyes.

creeping along the hallway, Konig neared a grand set of carved double doors and gold handles that no doubt looked to be the primary bedroom.

“how do you know Turner will be here?” you whispered, a sudden creeping apprehension coming over you. your hands twisted around the gun to ease a heavy feeling in your chest.

this felt rushed and not right at all.

you hadn’t even prepared yourself.

you swallowed hard. how were you going to kill this man when you knew him better than the others you had killed? more than Charles and his associate and Turner’s lackey who had chased you and John down on horseback?

“i don’t,” Konig said, placing a gloved hand on the handle, sending you a smirk, “just a good guess.”

he began to turn the gilded handle of the door when a loud gunshot ricocheted through the hallway, shattering a vase by your side as a bullet whizzed past your shoulder.

with a shriek, you scrambled back against the wall, seeing a dozen of Turner’s men rushing down the long, long corridor of the hallway, and suddenly the bedroom doors were kicked open, three guardsmen bursting through.

Konig was quick to move, shooting one in the face and the other in his leg, taking the third beneath his arm and crushing his neck in a quick jerk that had him falling limp to the carpet.

the man with the shot leg screamed in pain, clutching at his own leg and hobbling near you with a scrunched expression. you bit back any feeling of sympathy and wound up your good arm, punching him straight in the face.

he fell to the ground with a thud and Konig gave you an approving, crazy laugh, reloading his revolver and shot down the hall—two men fell in his wake.

“go,” he urged, jerking his head in the direction of Turner’s room, and its doors that were swung wide open, “i will take care of these men, little lady, you just remember our agreement!”

“wait—” you called with an outstretched arm, a gripping uncertainty wracking you, but Konig was already gone.

at the conjoinment of another hallway, more of Turner’s men poured into the vicinity, and you heard Konig curse loudly as he rushed forward, before a new slew of people flooded into the opposite side of the hallway.

you recognized a broad, blonde male as Ghost and another smaller blonde form as Kate, Soap, John, and Gaz somewhere in the fray, and with Alejandro and Rudolfo and los vaqueros added to it, it looked like the real war Ghost had promised you days ago.

is this why he had left you at that brothel this morning? because a full-drawn out war would happen right here in Turner’s mansion? knowing you would refuse to stay away from the bloodshed if he hadn’t lied to you last night?

even now, with all his lies, you had refused to stay away anyways.

you clutched at your own chest, trying not to sink down into the floor and stay there forever, and pushed yourself from the carpet, heaving yourself up onto the handle of the doors and slamming both shut behind you quickly.

with heavy, panicked breaths that forced through your choked up throat, you fought back any tears that brimmed in your eyes as you pressed your forehead to the cool surface. you felt lightheaded and eerily light. you wanted Yue-Yi’s tight grip on you to ground you again. or Ghost’s arms to wind around you. or even the mean pinch of your mama’s fingers on your skin.

tears fell down your cheeks.

Ghost—would he be okay? alive?

even Konig, who you had just met, who had been so willing to help you, for no good reason, mirroring the way he seemed to work without much reasoning at all, had you doubled over with nauseating worry.

the soft click of a gun behind you had you stiffening.

slowly, you turned from the door, grip tight on your own revolver that you hid from sight behind the wide berth of the skirt of your evening gown.

you were met with the sight of Turner, standing poised and indigent, revolver trained on you. you didn’t miss the shake in his hands.

he looked so much less pronounced in person. graying and old and aging and just as wrinkly as you remembered him to be, but less sinister than your mind painted him. average and normal and face stricken with the same sort of roiling panic you were feeling in the moment. you took him in with a new ease.

despite being the west’s biggest gang leader, he seemed diminished in such a close proximity.

“you,” he hissed, lip curled with disgust, “i thought you were dead.”

you swallowed hard, tight throat and unable to produce a single sound.

behind him, you saw his wife cowering in the corner with his small daughter trembling in her embrace.

you narrowed your eyes at them and Turner stepped forward sharply in threat.

you found your voice, steady and strong, “where are my daddy and mama?”

he scoffed, looking away from you briefly before brandishing the revolver around at you. it only reminded yourself of when you had been scared and inexperienced with a weapon.

“afraid i killed them?” he asked with a sinister smile, and a roil of annoyance wrung through you.

you trained your gun on his wife and daughter who shrieked, the little girl shaking with sniveling cries. Turner stiffened.

“you wouldn’t,” he said, voice low and rumbling with a ferocity, and you just nodded.

“i wouldn’t, so i’ll let them leave before i kill you.”

his eyes flashed, lips twisted into a menacing scowl.

“fine.”

his wife and daughter skirted out the room, crumpled down and low to the floor as they scurried past you out the double doors of the room. as soon as you shut the entrance behind them with a shaky exhale, tuning back to Turner, he lurched towards you with a strangled shout.

you reeled back, back slamming against the doors as he swung for you, and you ducked, scrambling over the floor with a shriek. he grabbed a fistful of your dress and pulled you back towards him across the carpet, wrestling you down to the ground, and you punched and shoved at his face, rolling across the carpet and trying to squirm out of his tight grip. his hands found your neck and crushed down on your throat with a strength that pushed all the air from your lungs.

you jerked up your knee, hitting him straight in a sore spot that had him hissing and grip going slack, just enough to shove him off you with as much strength as you could muster, and he skidded away, landing against the floor with a thud.

you gasped for breath, light-headed but vision sharper than ever as you raised the revolver, just before Turner was reaching for something across the carpet—a small white box.

your eyes widened. you recognized it as the one Yue-Yi had gifted you—wreak havoc, she had said, and you watched with a curl of panic as he struck a match and threw it to the edge of the room, a blooming fire bursting forth with a rush of shocking heat that had you crossing your arms over your face with a scream.

you scrambled back from the fire that consumed the room with a terrifying speed, revolver trained on Turner’s crumpled figure sprawled over the floor a marginal distance away.

he picked up his head and gave you a sinister look.

“your daddy and mama are dead.”

a strangled, animalistic sound clawed through your throat, and you screamed as a sob wracked you, aiming your revolver and shooting him right in the knee.

he screamed, shifting away from you, the pristine white carpet pooling with a new crimson puddle and singing at the edges with an ominous black.

you struggled to breath in the room, the air tinged with a thick smog and flickers of strewn ash that felt hot when they landed on your skin.

“i doused this entire mansion with gas,” he rasped, coughing through the smoke, “if you try to kill me, you’ll burn with me.”

he laughed, body shaking violently when more coughs wracked through him, blood splattering across the carpet and painting his lips with an unnatural red.

slowly, you made your way towards your knees with a great effort, your exposed skin flushed painfully from the heat of the surrounding fire, a portion of the canopy bed behind him crumbling, fire spreading across the carpet with hot, swelling licks.

you tried to scream but couldn’t through the tight swollen soreness of your throat, edging from its path as it skirted around you.

you forced words out, a searing raw pain in your throat, “why would you do this?”

all of it? you wanted to scream, why would he try to kill you? your daddy? your mama?

then, you coughed, hand pressed to your mouth as the motion shook you to your core, tears spilling down your cheeks to dispel the smoke, and his smile only grew.

“i own you,” he whispered, barely audible over the loud crackle of the fire, curtains melting away from the windows as the carpet peeled up from the floorboards.

“i won’t let that bastard Simon Riley take you from me.”

you almost snarled at him, tempted to aim your revolver at his head and just put a whole round into his brain. but that felt rushed and not right at all.

you wanted him to suffer. painful and slow. the thought gave you a sliver of sanity.

you hissed out, “i won’t kill you.”

his eyes flashed, twitching against the carpet like he was going to tackle you again, but the stiffness in his bloody, soaked pant leg prevented him from moving.

you smiled—so wide that it cracked your dry lips.

“i’ll leave you to burn in hell,” you said, clambering to your feet, swaying in the open air, dizzy and nausea wringing through your head, because you just couldn’t really breathe, and Turner let out a strangled cry.

“you can’t leave!” he said, voice tinged with a ferocious desperation as he clawed forward suddenly, and the quick motion had you reeling backwards and tipping back to the world swung in front of your eyes.

you fell back down against the carpet, face narrowly missing a ring of fire, more furniture crumpled chunks of ash and blackened wood just beyond it.

“i own you,” he snarled, voice a throaty sinister rasp. his hand closed around your ankle and a new curling disgust bloomed from deep within your gut.

you looked down at him and thrust the tip of your revolver against his sweaty, red forehead. his eyes blew wide, bloody lips parting with a new fearful sort of shock that twisted your stomach in the most pleasant ways you didn’t know that you could feel.

“i choose who owns me,” you whispered, and you knew he heard you from the way his eyes just stretched further, and you blew straight clean through his forehead.

he fell completely limp against the carpet, lifeless and void of the crawling desperation you had just seen mere moments before.

more tears came pouring down your cheeks and you shoved your knee into the side of his face, biting back a scream when you saw the gaping, bloody gouge of flesh in his forehead and the cool, empty placidness of his blue eyes.

you killed him. his warm grip was still around your ankle.

scrambling back away from the dead body, you gasped when the exposed skin of your arm was enveloped with something unbearably hot, wet, and rippling in undulations.

pulling your arm away from the fire, you stared in horror at the new char of your skin and the way your silk gloves had half-melted into your arm with a goopy liquidity.

the scalding pain sharpened your senses, and you hauled yourself towards the double doors, raw skin flush to the carpet, and you strained up to the handles of the doors, fingers just wrapping around it when the door opened from beneath you.

you fell forward with your eyes screwed shut, trying to push yourself off the ground, and gentle hands hoisted you towards a broad, strong body low to the ground.

“princess, princess, princess—”

lips were against your ear and you immediately curled into his touch, eyes fluttering open to see his warmth and inviting just mere inches from your own.

face maskless and bare.

you had never felt so much relief.

“Simon?” you squeaked, voice meek and quiet and half as strong as you had forced it to be the whole day. you melted into him, muscles going lax with weakness.

he hissed when you leaned against him, and you pulled back slightly to take in the charred material of his suit stuck to an oozing wetness beneath it—sopping red with blood.

you choked on more sobs but he just shushed you, stroking a hand through your hair before pressing his face to your neck, then your hair.

“it’ll be alright, princess.”

you had never heard his voice so weak before. he leaned back against the ground, the walls still up in flames around him, and you watched his body fight to stay up before sliding slowly to the ground.

you pulled yourself forward, fighting back coughs as you laid next to him.

“you need to get up,” he rasped, pushing you away with a hand. the movement just made you hiss in desperate frustration.

“no. m’staying right here,” you said, curling closer to him, and he let you, face soft and relaxed as the entrance to Turner’s bedroom crumbled just beyond your feet.

you took in the curves of his bare face—the age and lines and scars that reflected only a shimmering honesty in the fragile moment.

with great effort you craned over him to kiss that silvery scar on his upper lip, and when you pulled back he only gave you a weak smile.

“you never listen to me,” he whispered, voice throaty and wrung through, and you could only smile back.

“never,” you agreed, intertwining your fingers with his.

“i was late this morning,” he rasped, nosing through your hair, “and when i arrived you were gone.

“i thought you finally came to your bloody senses and ran away—” he was cut off by a series of wracking coughs, and you pressed your forehead to your intertwined hands, shaking with sniveling tears.

“i thought you had abandoned me,” you whispered.

he kissed the crown of your head. “never.”

you melted into him.

he sounded stricken with anger. “i’ve lied to you.”

“i know,” you said, brushing a finger over the lightness of his lashes.

“you were supposed to run away,” he said weakly, “you were never supposed to stay. since the beginning, you were supposed to run away.”

“is that why you were late this morning?” you croaked, and he nodded against your hair.

“i was relieved when you were gone,” he said, “but i think it killed me.”

with drooping eyelids and a swirling smog clouding your senses, you distantly remembered how you felt that morning. like you had left behind your shattered heart in that brothel. like you had died in that room and you left behind your body and you were floating as a ghost through the san francisco streets.

“leaving killed me,” you said softly, through rough coughs, and he only pulled you closer.

“you weren’t supposed to be here, either,” he muttered, breaths shallow and weak in your ear.

you craned your neck to look up at him, taking in his face fully, and the droop of his tired eyes, before thumbing over the scars along his jaw.

“anything else to confess to me?” you asked, soft and he nodded.

“i lied to you.”

your brow pinched, another cough rippling from your throat. “i know that.”

he shook his head with a weakness that had your heart crumbling. “long time ago. that night on the train.”

the breath died in your throat and he pressed his forehead against yours, warm and solid.

“i said i bedded you for revenge. i lied.”

the floor fell away from beneath you and you felt like you were floating.

“why?” you croaked, and his smile was wistful.

“so full of questions.”

“always,” you said, pressing him further, but his eyes closed, breaths growing with a louder rasp now. a violent panic crawled up your chest and you nudged him, relieved when his eyes cracked open again.

“in time,” he whispered, and the strangled, frustrated sound that left your throat that only made his smile grow.

“i’m sorry i didn’t take you on that date,” he said, and you shook your head, the tip of your nose against his.

“i know why you didn’t,” you insisted, and he frowned.

“you’re supposed to be mad at me.”

you frowned back. “stop telling me what i’m supposed to be.”

at that, he only smirked, looking strangely satisfied as he stroked a thumb over the exposed, hot, raw skin of your neck.

you took a shaky deep breath, only swallowing down more smoke that had you coughing with a grimace. “just…”

his dark, swirling eyes that were so familiar now were dimmed but just as warm. you took your charred hand, ignoring the searing pain of it, and brushed it over his blonde hair. he closed his eyes at your gentle touch.

“please kiss me,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered open, lurching forward with a stiff clumsiness at the awkward position, and suddenly his warm lips were pressed to your own.

you didn’t know what you were doing—just that the rhythmic movement of his soft flesh molding against yours had a honey warmth dripping through your chest and fluttering down your spine.

you tried to match him, flushing at the feeling of his every breath melding into your every exhale in a never-ending steady pulse. your hands snaked into his hair and gripped softly, and a low noise left his throat.

your head spun with the lack of oxygen, and more heavenly moments stretched on until he pulled back, licking over his lips like he had by the railway yesterday. like he was tasting you.

“not bad, princess,” he whispered, eyes fluttering close with a weakness. you pressed against him, unable to fight the droop of your own eyes anymore, a pleasant muffle filling your head, and a purpling black, splotchy glaze dancing from behind your eyelids.

the last thing you felt were his lips against your cheek, the sound of the fire consuming the splintering, crumbling house with loud crackles, distant shouts, and Simon’s soft breaths against your skin.

okay okay i know that this chapter doesn't have smut or much fun stuffff but i hope you liked konig's appearance LMFAO but i can confirm that next chapter there will be 1. the do 😵‍💫 like fr this time 😵‍💫 2. JEALOUS GHOST SDLFJSLEIFJ 3. and yea less angst pls and thank you

i love all of you. please have a wonderful weekend <3 next chapter will be uploaded tuesday (ON TIME TOO)!!

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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writing-appreciation · 1 year ago

Text

The Office

Synopsis: You are promoted to the Unit Chief of Crime Scene Investigation. Moving in to your new office, some familiar faces help you settle in. Others, a little more than others... in his own way.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE. Didn't proofread before I chose to upload this. Sorry in advance.

"Uh, actually, Pen, so sorry, can you actually set that box on the desk? That one has all my stationery." I said in a strained voice, trying to gesture to my desk, but the boxes I was carrying blocked my view.

"I totally would, my leige, but the boys have not quite gotten your megadesk in here yet." She rushed to me to help me destack my boxes that were dangerously close to toppling over as I struggled to keep my grip on them.

"Oh! Thanks you Freaky fashinova you!" I smiled at her help.

"Ladies, not to bother our new CSI Unit Chief, but this desk is a little heavy and you're standing exactly where we need to put it."

We both turned to see Derek, partially in the room, and Luke holding up the other side of the desk, but outside the room.

"Sorry, guys, we'll move!" I quickly apologized and began to move myself.

"Tall, dark, and muscles, you can move me any time you want." Penelope said while exchanging glances with the two men trying to move my desk into the room.

"Listen, Mama, any other time, but right now, my fingers are too sore to play these games right now. So move your perfectly fine ass.. please."

Penelope did move out of the spot after a few seconds of prolonged eye contact with Derek.

"Uh, as a Unit Chief, do I have an obligation to report this as sexual nature?" I asked, while adjusting my glasses and picking up a clipboard from an open box.

That comment caused an outburst of laughter to fill the room.

"Y'know, (L/n) don't you have a team yourself that could help you move all this stuff into here? Feels like your already abusing your power." Luke jokingly said as he adjusted his side of the desk to line up with the space I had cleared for it earlier in the day.

"Well, Agent Alvarez, you can thank Penelope, who graciously volunteered you and Morgan to move the heavy stuff into here." I clapped my hands together. And leaned on the now placed desk.

An array of beeps coming from all their phones interrupted him before he could rebutle.

"Let me guess, a serial killer loose on the east coast, oooh, no the Midwest?" I exclaimed as they each read their messages.

Derek was the first to look up and nod his head sadly.

"Four kids, all below the age of ten, abducted, brutally beaten, and then.." He trailed off.

Penelope and Luke shared a knowing look.

"Well, don't let me keep you, go, go save the kids." I smiled sadly while shooing them out of my office.

The three of them left and began their decent down to the BullPen, gathering their BAU team mates along the way.

It was weird being up here, being able to quite literally, have the higher ground to the agents below me, many of whom I have developed close friendships with over the years.

While watching the three agents join the rest of their teammates, I heard a familiar clearing of a throat which made me pull my attention to a friendly face leaning against my door frame.

"Dr. Reid, hello." I smiled, nodding in his direction.

"Dr. (L/n). Your office is a bit more chaotic than I expected." He gestured to several boxes, and scattered case files littering the tops of closed boxes, my makeshift desk before this new one came in.

"Well, considering I have only had this space for a week, and during 5 out of those 7 days, I was busy consulting with the Miami Dade Police with a few gruesome crime scenes curtosey of an unsub your team happened to catch while also in Miami, I haven't had much time to.. decorate." I raised my arms in gesture to the scattered boxes around me.

He laughed, now inviting himself into my office, carefully picking up a loose photo frame from an open box. A small smile creeped onto his face as he looked at the photo.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company, Reid, but don't you guys have a case to review before you leave?"

"Actually, not going. I'm guest lecturing at Virgina State this week. By the end of the week, if they still need me, I'll meet them out there. So, if you were to need any help..decorating I am available."

I smirked at his choice of words, knowing what photo he has in is hand. To any other, unsuspecting, eye, it appears to be a photo of an abstract piece of art. Lots of paint smears, random hand prints scattered along the canvas. But the two of us knew the story behind that photo. And it was a real work of art.

"Y'know," I began, kicking myself off of my desk, "now that I have a whole office, and not a tiny little desk, I might actually hang that painting here above my desk. Penelope said she thought the use of colors were.. emotion invoking."

He let out a breathy laugh and gently set the photo down, now taking a step closer to the window. "Ha, did she? It sure did invoke alot of emotion during its creation." He ran his finger along my window sill, raising it to find it dust-free.

"Yes, Dr. Reid. Very..cathartic I would say." I smirked. "Also, if you're looking for any signs of dust, don't you worry, I went through with a feather duster this morning."

"Good girl."

I bit my lip, to hold back a response to that. We, afterall, were still in semi-public. My door was wide open, blinds open, if somebody was walking by, they surely would have heard us talking. And God forbid anybody were to see a Unit Chief and a simple agent sharing a rather sexual verbal exchange.

But there was nothing simple about this man and I and our relationship. We have tiptoed around that imaginary line, separating agents from "fragernizing" with one another for so long. Some times that line was completely kicked to the side and forgotten during those (excitingly long, but wonderful) nights we spent in one another's bed.

It's borderline criminal- the hold that man has on me. And it's not just about the sex. That part is great and all, but it's the connection we have that makes this..situationship as great as it is.

Spencer said it best one night after a particularly rough case both my CSI team, and his BAU team collaborated on. We both had some...frustrations to get out and it made for a rather intense night once we got back to Quantico. But it's what followed the intensity that sealed the deal for me on Dr. Spencer Reid.

A tense, but comfortable air settled in the room as I laid on the bed, exhausted from what I believe was the sixth orgasm of the night. I stopped counting after three. Spencer would surely know, but he ran off to gather a couple drinks for us.

As I began to pry myself from the bed, I heard the familiar bedroom door open.

"Hey, lay back down, let me clean you up."

I made eye contact with the lanky man approaching me. He had a couple water bottles, and a dishtowel in his hand that appeared to be wet.

I think he caught on to my confusion and responded, "I mean, if you'll let me. You can clean yourself too if you want. I just feel kinda bad, I took alot of this case out on you just now." He awkwardly shifted from heel to heel.

I couldn't keep my laugh in. It wasn't a laugh at him persay. I just thought it was funny that awkward little Spencer Reid, eloquent DR. Reid, SSA Reid who has stopped hundreds of literal psychopaths without batting an eye, stood here in front of me who was still completely naked, heaving like a caged animal after the activities we just did, and he somehow felt more out of place than I did. In his own apartment. His literal bedroom.

"Really, Reid, it's fine. You don't have to clean me up because you feel guilty. I had a good time. No boundaries crossed. Honestly, I kinda needed a good time." I said, once again starting to sit up.

"(Y/n), please, I just. It takes two to make the mess. Let me clean you up a bit. I can draw us a bath? A nice massage? I bought more of that Chamomile Lavender tea you liked, and stocked up on the sleep massage oil you are obsessed with." He broke his eye contact to rush to the corner of his room, to his fully stocked tea/coffee bar.

It used to just be a coffee bar, until I found myself spending the night more and more often. And so there was an electric tea kettle, several different types of tea I have brought myself, for when I knew I would be spending time at his apartment.

But my mind stayed hooked on the fact that he said, ' I bought more of that Chamomile Lavender tea you liked..'

Idetic memory, Spencer Reid, remembering a fact like this wasn't all too surprising. It's the fact that he bothered to put effort into keeping things I like in his space. He was quick to recommend me keeping a whole dresser in his bedroom. Not just a drawer, oddly cramed with things. It's like he wants me here longer than just a simple bed buddy. And the thought of that made my heart ache.

I was pulled out of my trance when I heard water running from his bathroom. I looked up, curiously, meeting his eyes as he left the bathroom and rejoined me in the bedroom.

"You took too long to decide, so I decided for you, we're taking a bath and you're getting a massage. Here's your tea." He held put a mug with my initials on it.

This mug was also a new addition.

"Uh, t-thanks." I stuttered as I accepted the mug from him, examining it up close.

It was my favorite color. Favorite shape of mug. Hell my initials were done in my favorite font. But what caught me most off guard was the inscription on the handle

'For my favorite flower'

I turned the mug around to see the other side, and low and behold, there was a hand drawn image of my birth flower- his favorite flower.

"Wow, Reid, I love this mug." I gasped, still appreciating it.

"(Y/n)-" He seemed to want to say more, but cut himself off.

"Let get into that bath." He held his hand out, and I gladly accepted it with the hand that was not holding my tea.

He was first to get in, he smiled, so wide it almost hurt my cheeks to see him smiling like.. like a lovestruck idiot. I couldn't help but join his smile, and lay myself into the bath, in front of him. I eased into his chest almost immediately. The hot water was helping to sooth my aching muscles from the earlier activities. Spencer laid his chin on the top of my head and began absent-mindedly stroking my shoulders, which gradually transitioned to a full blown massage.

This was bliss.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He whispered into my ear.

His voice sent goosebumps down my arms, undoubtedly he felt.

"This is just nice." I sank further down into the tub, turning slightly to catch a partial glimpse of him.

He hummed in response and gently swiped a fallen strand of hair from my forehead. This simple gesture made me feel like a 17 year old girl again. The feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach made me so nervous, but I didn't want the moment to end.

"It's Spencer." He said with a smile, his eyes flicking to my lips and back to my eyes.

"Hmm?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

He scrunched his face in laugher and cleared his throat.

"My name is Spencer." He repeats, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Uh.. yeah? Kinda found that out a while ago." I laughed, still confused as to why he suddenly was saying his name.

"You still call me 'Reid'."

"Well, yeah you're Spencer Reid. The 'Reid' part is kind of a part of your name."

"Yeah, but when you call me 'Reid' it feels like you still see me as just a coworker."

Pretty sure my heart broke just then.

I quickly turned to face him fully, wanting to give him my full attention.

"What do you mean? I think you're so much more." I reached for his chin, to make him face me.

"You do?" He says, still in a saddened tone.

"Rei- Spencer," I corrected myself, "You are unlike any man I have ever met. You are the most caring, devoted, passionate, loyal, goofy, intelligent, wonderful mess of a man I have ever had the privilege of meeting. You are the first person I want to talk to after a tough case, and the last person I always talk to before bed. Meeting you has made me want to be a better person, it's made me a better friend. You've shown me a type of love I never thought I would see again."

"So you don't just stay for the sex?" He asked quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

"Spencer, honey, if we quit having sex right now, you still won't be able to get rid of me. Sure, the sex is great, don't get me wrong, love that, you are truly gifted, but I don't need it. I just need you. Your company, these moments where we just talk and hang out, or when we go to nerdy conventions together and have the time of our lives. I need your rambling about a random topic you know everything about because I just enjoy being in your presence. And listening to you talk. Your voice is so calming. You can be telling me about the terrible and gruesome ways an unsub dismembered, disembowled, and worse to a victim and I will hang on your every word. Even in complete silence, I just feel your comforting aura. And I don't want that to go away. If you don't want me to go, that is. It was never about the Sex, Spencer, it was always about you."

Before I could continue, he pulled me into a tight embrace and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

We sat in silence for a while. I don't think Spencer was anticipating a big long confession from me today. However, I was careful with my words. I never exactly said 'I love you.' But God, did I want to. I do love this man. In the way that makes me want to grow old with him and listen to the way he would rattle facts off to our children.

"Yknow, I learned something rather interesting on this case." He finally spoke up, while rubbing circles into my pinky finger with his thumb.

"Oh, you can still learn things? What did you learn, Spencer?"

I felt him smile into my head at me using his first name.

"Our Unsub was choosing victims by his belief in the Japenese Red String theory."

"And because I didn't study Japanese myths, I'm gonna need you to explain that one to me, Doctor."

"So, pinkies are a big thing in it." He began to explain excitedly.

He held his arm out to meet mine. Both our right hands, extended out so we could both see our hands in front of us.

"The theory states that everybody is attached to somebody with whom they will tell an important story, or make history with."

"And I take it that they are attached with a red string, to their other person's pinky?"

"Yes. And what's even more tragically beautiful is that the connection never breaks. Even in death, the passing of the loved one becomes the story itself. Throughout any tangle, the string remains strong. They are destined to have that connection."

"That's interesting, but how did our unsub use that theory to pick his vics?"

"He was perverting the story. To him, he believed the stories he was destined to tell revolved around brutally torturing and ultimately murdering women he believed he was bound to."

"Oh, wow. Hey, does it ever get exhausting to constantly deep dive into somebody's psychology? At least with my job, everything is a fact. Splatter patterns, ballistics, autopsy results, everything I do is set in stone. I rarely, if ever, have to think about the how, the why, and the what's is going on in his head. It seems exhausting."

"It is exhausting, so it's nice to have somebody to talk to after a long one." He sighed, pulling me closer to his chest.

Eventually we made our way out of the bath, and dressed into our pyjamas for the night. Spencer put on some documentary in the background as we settled into the bed for sleep. I pulled out a book I was working through and began reading where I left off.

"Hey, let me read to you?" He looked at me with the biggest puppydog eyes I have ever seen.

I nodded in agreement and handed the book to him. He grabbed his reading glasses off his nightstand, cleared his throat, and began reciting the words from the pages.

I couldn't help but feel my eyes go heavy, finding a deep comfort and safety in where I was right in this moment, and who was in this moment with me.

I think Spencer felt me leaning further and further into his shoulder, dancing on the verge of sleep, so he did finish out the chapter and placed the book and his glasses on the nightstand.

He pulled the blankets up to our chests, and began to relax himself. His arms around their way around mu waist and he pulled me closer to him, even throwing his leg over my own.

"For the record, you are the person I am bound to. You are my destiny. You are the light in my darkness. You are the love of my life." He whispered, while placing a gentle kiss on my head.

"Love you too Spence.." I began, and immediately fell victim to slumber.

"Dr. (L/n)? Are you okay?"

His question brought me back to reality. And that reality is that I am going to start daydreaming about Dr. Spencer Reid right now.

"OH? Yes, thank you Dr. Reid. I'm fine. Just out in my own little world." I laughed off my need for him.

"Well, I have to start making my way out to Virginia State, so I'll see you around." The final part of his sentence, sounding more like a question. Like he was asking if he would see me later.

"I'm sure you'll see me around. I have some major nesting to do in this office. Have fun shaping future minds!" I called out the last part as he made his way out of my office. He did turn back, just before he had fully left my line of sight, giving me a small smirk.

The rest of the day went on fairly slowly. Alot of organizing my space to my liking. Penelope would swing by every so often with treats and trinkets. Before I even knew it, it was after hours in the building. After hours on a Friday night. Needless to say, everybody was eager to get home.

However, I was so caught up with decorating all day, I didn't get a chance to review case files for my team. I had planned to do this task over the weekend, but I noticed the usual hefty stack of cases, were actually only three cases. So I decided to just look them over here, rather than have them to ruin my weekend.

Penelope offered to stay behind as well, to, in her own words, be my sparkly ball of joy, while I looked at the information. I love that woman, but I knew she would distract me, and I would be stuck here even longer, so I sent her home.

I was so enthralled in my cases that I didn't really pay too much attention to the lights of the BullPen turn on. I figured it was an agent, running back into the office to grab something they forgot to get when they left for the day. I ignored it, and continued to read. That is, until a jiggling of my dornob caught my attention.

My eyes flickered down to my gun, laying holstered, on my desk. Carefully, I removed the gun from the holster, and began to stand. Afterall, nobody should be trying to get into my office. In fact, nobody else should be here.

I cautiously made my way to my door. There was no peephole, but I did have windows to either side of the door. Earlier in the day, I closed my blinds because the heavy foot traffic of the BullPen kept pulling me away from my tasks. Just as I was about to peak through the closed blinds, my phone began ringing in my back pocket.

"Shit." I cursed aloud, in a hushed voice, as my free hand flew to my phone to silence the noise.

"(Y/n), open the door, it's me."

I immediately relaxed and sighed in relief.

I unlocked the door, and welcomed the very dapper looking Doctor standing in front of me into my office.

"Spence, you gotta warn a girl. I had my gun drawn, definitely could've taken you out." I breathed out, now making my way back to my desk to reholster my gun.

"I did warn you. I texted you four different times. I even showed up to your apartment, and when I didn't find you there, I concluded you were still here. So now here I am." He gave me one of his infamous goofy smiles.

"Well, excellent deduction skills, Doctor, " I sat in my chair, pulling out my phone to read the texts Spencer sent me.

He sat in the chair, across my desk as I read the texts.

2:30 p.m

'How is the office decorating going?'

3:42 p.m

'I take it that it is going well. Would you please call me when you get a chance. I miss your voice.'

5:13 p.m

'I am currently at your apartment, I am cooking (your favourite meal). I assume you'll be a bit late home, so I'll finish up when you call me.'

6:48 p.m

'I'm not one for impatience, but I have not spoken to you since this morning, so I am going to the office, and (respectfully) dragging you out of there if I have to. X'

"First of all, I missed you too Spence. And I'm sorry for not responding. I got so tied up with decorating and reorganizing, that I lost track of time. Then I realized I had a few cases to review, which I was going to go this weekend, but there were only three, so I wanted to knock those out before I left for the weekend."

"Do you need any help?" He said, reaching for a file.

"No, honey, I'm fine, really. I just need maybe 15 more minutes, and we can head out, okay?" I gently placed my left hand on his to stop him from grabbing a casefile.

He looked at my hand on his, our engagement ring sat on my left ring finger, and I could tell he was confused.

"I hope you don't mind. I really like wearing it, and nobody was here, so I slipped it on." I gestured to the ring.

He was wildly smiling at my hand and ran hid thumb over my left ring finger knuckle.

'I love it. I wore mine today when I was lecturing. Makes it feel like you're right there with me." He grinned ear to ear.

I smiled, pulling my hand back, and picking up the file I was reading a few minutes prior.

I heard a shutter of a camera go off, which made me perk my head back towards the man across from me.

"Sorry. I couldn't help it, you look very good right now." He gushed as he looked at the photo on his phone.

"Spence," I began.

"You're sitting there, in your chair," He stood up from his chair, and began walking behind my desk, "behind your desk," He was standing behind me now, he leaned down to my ear, "in your CSI Unit Chief office, wearing your engagement ring. It's all very attractive. Doctor. (L/n)." He placed a kiss further and further down my neck as he spoke.

He stopped at my shoulder. Placing a gentle kiss on the clothed area.

"Spencer, I- we need to st-" He cut me off by slowly pulling my blouse down my shoulder to expose the skin. I gasped.

He quickly turned my chair around to have me facing him now. A suggestive look in his eyes hinted at his intentions right at the moment. He held his hand out, which I gladly accepted. He led me to stand, which I obeyed. After I stood, he pushed my chair out from my desk, knocking it into a bookshelf in the process, causing some books to topple to the ground.

"Hey! I worked hard on that organi-" I began to stay, but was interrupted by Spencer pushing me to the desk and slamming his lips into mine.

I muffled a moan in shock, but immediately began kissing him back. His hands wondered down to my hips, and he squeezed them like they were his life line. After a few minutes of a rather intense makeout, he broke the kiss, followed by a long inhale.

"Spencer, we really need to stop. Anybody can walk in. And I still haven't found a way to tell the director we're engaged. This would be a bad way for them to find out." I heavily breathed out.

"(Y/n), it is 7:20 on a Friday night. I think it's safe to say nobody will be barging in. And I can't get the idea of taking you right here, right now, out of my head. So please, stop worrying and enjoy the moment." He neatly gathered my case files and set them on the chair, completely clearing my desk of anything important.

He looked down at me with those damn alluring eyes. The kind that I have never been able to say no to. The kind that said he was ready to give me the world, whatever consequences may follow.

I nodded, eagerly. Throwing all resolve out the metaphorical window because now, seeing my lovely fiancee this lust driven towards me in our workplace was also driving me crazy with desire.

He didn't hesitate. He roughly connected our lips together again, now trailing his hands down my body.

He bent down slightly to grab under my thighs to help usher me to the top of my desk. I hopped up to be sitting on the desk.

He smiled into our kiss, but moved his lips down to my cheek, then to my jaw, then down my neck, peppering several kisses, all with varying intensities.

I felt his hands travel back up to my blouse. Then to the buttons, slowly undoing them as his assault on my neck never haulted. It felt so overwhelmingly amazing. And this was just the beginning.

There are so many different ways we could break in this office. Too many for just one night. This would more than likely be happening again. And again. And again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #masterlist #writing appreciation's blurb night #writing appreciation

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roleplayfinder · 3 months ago

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Greetings and salutations! My name is Liana and I am 29 years old, female and I am DESPERATE for an RP partner. I’ve been RP-ing for over fifteen years now and there are still so many plots and ideas that I haven’t played out yet. And I’m sure if you’re searching for an RP partner it’s the same case with you. So I’m just gonna go ahead and list a few fandoms I would LOVE to dive into. But before that a few things to keep in mind:

• I only do mxf where I can play either the male or the female.

• Long-Term RP partners only! And please don’t just message me and disappear.

• I can play most characters asked of me. Though you might have to give me a couple of days to get into that character’s headspace.

• Communication is KEY! We have to keep that channel open. Saying that please don’t be pushy when it comes to plots you would like done. If I’m not comfortable with it I’ll say so. And if you’re not comfortable with a plot then tell me so that we can work our way around it.

• Expect me to rant, fangirl and scream over canon pairings and OC x canon pairings. But then you are more then welcome to do the same as well! :D

• Doubling isn’t a definite must. But I don’t want to be stuck with just playing the male character. I would prefer that we each pick out a fandom the other is familiar with and we each play one canon and oc or canon and canon, whatever fits best!

• Since I am over 18 NSFW content will be in the plot line though not the main focus. Unless the plot calls for it. Please do NOT contact me if you only wish to write smut.

• I can go from romance to adventure. Angst to fluff. And everything else in between!

• Plot! Plot! Plot! I love plotting. But I don’t want to be the only one coming up with ideas. Equal contribution is the only way to keep the ball rolling.

• I won’t be available 24/7. There are days when I am really busy because of work and because I'm a single mom. But just because I don’t reply doesn’t think I’ve forgotten. I do remember! I just need to find time.

• Speaking of time, my time zone is GMT+5.

• Mediums for RP-ing are Discord. My main Tumblr is the one in submitting this post from.

• Please please please have a good grasp on the English language. Though it’s my second language I’m quite good at it and I want a partner who is just as good. My brain automatically starts picking out mistakes in whatever text I read and I hate doing that when I’m trying to enjoy a good reply.

• Writing format paragraph style. Third person point of view.

• I do canonxoc. But there might be one or two fandoms where I am willing to do canonxcanon.

• I promise I’m not a scary person. I know you’re probably thinking I have a lot of rules but I just want to make sure I get all this basic information out. Hopefully I didn’t forget anything!

Now for the important part: The FANDOMS!

Listed are the characters I would LOVE to play against which will be quite a bit. But it doesn’t mean I won’t be any less excited for other pairings or characters! And I’m not listing them with any first or second preference is mind. I’d be happy to play against any of the listed really.

I am also including any pairings I would love to play out. We can work out who will be playing whom if we have a common pairing we ship! Bold are the ones I’m really craving.

*DC

Superman aka Clark Kent

NightwingxStarfire (I would preferably want to play Star!)

Kid FlashxArtemis

Batman aka Bruce Wayne

DamianxRaven (I would preferably want to play Raven!)

Legend of Vox Machina

Vax

*Harry Potter

Harry Potter (I am willing to play any character here either from the Marauders Era or the Golden Trio Era if you play against my OC with Harry Potter)

*Inheritance Cycle

Eragon

*Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien/Chat NoirxMarinette/Ladybug

*Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Alphonse Elric

Roy Mustang

I don’t think I wrote down ALL my fandoms so please feel free to suggest some! We might have it in common.

I do Fandomless role-playing as well but I’ve done it so much that I wouldn’t be able to put as much of my heart into it as I would the Fandom RP.

I want to end this by saying that I hope that if you decide to message me then we can be friends as well. I’ve made loads of friends through Rp-ing and I hope to make new ones as well! Contact on discord Hestia_1928

Hope to hear from you soon!

Hestia_1928

#twenty-one and over #oc #oc roleplay #oc rp #mxf #mxf roleplay #mxf rp #dc #dc roleplay #dc rp #legend of vox machina #harry potter #inheritance cycle #miraculous ladybug #fmab

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shinyhappysims · 5 months ago

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Alright besties, a new gen has begun so you know what that means. It’s family picture day! If you want an idea of how good Jamilah and Niran were at indoctrination, only 3 of their children have children, their oldest child has only been married for 8 years, but they already have almost 13 grandchildren. Today’s update will be from Jamilah’s pov, with a few interjections from me. Despite how much she thinks she knows everything, she in fact does not. Enjoy!

Hello to my SISTERS in CHRIST! I have been active on this blog for MANY years so I think it would be a great idea to INTRODUCE my FAMILY to you ONCE MORE!

My name is Jamilah (49) and I have been married to my WONDERFUL HUSBAND Niran (54) for 30 years! We have been working DILIGENTLY together to lead the people of TOMARANG to Christ! We, along with a few of my cousins, established a church here that has nearly 100 MEMBERS! Our work is not finished, however, until EVERY knee in Tomarang bends to the Lord!!!!!!!

God has blessed Niran and I with SEVENTEEN children! Out of them, 10 still live at home with us: Blessing-Belle (21), Angel-Gabriel (17), Andrew-Redeemer (15), Heavenly-Rose (14), twins Disciple-Phillip and Noble-Peter (11), twins Mark-Patriot and Liberty-Sue (10), Kathryn-Praise (7) and Hallelujah-Mae (5). Every day spent with them is a TESTAMENT to God’s GRACE! Also, if you know any ELIGIBLE young men please direct them to my DEAR Blessing-Belle.

My OLDEST SON Arrow-Michael (30) is married to Kanyawan (31), with whom he shares 6 BEAUTIFUL children: Baifern (7), Pimnara (5), twins Cherprang and Adisorn (4), Navin (1), and Kannika (0). Arrow-Michael works hard as a police officer here in Tomarang, while Kanyawan does her DUTY of homeschooling Baifern and minding after the little ones! I am very TOUCHED to see my son life his live in a way that is PLEASING to Christ and continue to pass these TEACHINGS onto his children!!

My second son Courage-John (29) is married to Kimber (27) and has 1 daughter, Darcy (3) and just welcomed his NEW BABY BOY Wilder (0)! Courage-John resides in NEWCREST and works as a journalist for a CONSERVATIVE news outlet. The work he does is very IMPORTANT in a world that values the WOKE AGENDA and suppresses the VOICES of us GOD-HONORING Simericans! I have noticed that Courage-John and Kimber have ABANDONED a few values that they were raised with but they are STILL strong in the faith. I hope they do not waver much more!

The “wavering” in question is that Kimber now wears pants sometimes and they pop out kids at a slightly slower rate.

Honor-Luke (27) is married to Kimber’s IDENTICAL TWIN Lauryn (27)! They have 3 children: Lincoln (4), Hope (2), and Hadley (6m). Lauryn is also currently 3 months along with TWIN BOYS! They also live in Newcrest and Honor-Luke works in the tech industry. Like Arrow-Michael, Honor-Luke takes great PRIDE in training his children up in God’s Word and keeping GOD as the head of his household!

My FOURTH born and ELDEST DAUGHTER Glory-Jane (25) is STILL missing! I PRAY for her safe return!

Janie lives happily alone in San Myshuno, working as a model and actress. She’s booked and busy and never coming back lol.

Emmanuel-Paul (23) lives with his wife Desta (23) in Sulani. I did not FULLY approve of their relationship, so I don’t have as much CONTACT with my SON as much as I would like!!! Emmanuel-Paul is a marine biologist and APPARENTLY Desta works OUTSIDE THE HOME as a lifeguard. If a woman MUST have a career, I find GALLAVANTING around the beach in a swimsuit to be a DEGRADING one, but it seems her HEADSHIP has no problem with it. From the FEW conversations I have RECENTLY had with Emmanuel-Paul, he insists that God has laid it on his heart to not have children until he and Desta were more “STABLE”. There were certainly days where Niran and I were short on FUNDS or PATIENCE but that’s why we TRUSTED in God!!!! I hate that my son doesn’t see children as a BLESSING but rather as a BURDEN!!! While they don’t have children, they do raise a CAT together. I’m SORRY I can’t RECALL the little one’s name right now. A cat isn’t a replacement for a SOLDIER in God’s army anyways!

The cat’s name is Piccolo. She’s so insufferable. And I don’t picture these two having kids at all actually, or at least for the next 10 years. They also aren’t religious anymore. Saying that God laid something on his heart was just Manny’s way of getting Jamilah to not question it.

Blessing-Belle’s TWIN Mercy-Marie (21) just got married to Emery (22) in a GORGEOUS ceremony in San Myshuno. They are heading to their honeymoon in TARTOSA soon! Emery and Mercy-Marie both have their own ONLINE MINISTRIES catering to men and women. I know from EXPERIENCE that it’s a beautiful thing to SPREAD the word of God as a COUPLE.

Then there’s Sunday-Grace (19). She ACTUALLY still lives with us but that’s not for long as she’s ENGAGED to Cameron (23). Cameron does the online ministry ALONGSIDE Emery. Sunday-Grace is excited for the move to San Myshuno and to be entering the HIGHEST CALLING for a woman: a housewife and mother!

#sims 4 legacy #fundie sims #fundie simblr #sims 4 story #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #shs: update #shs: mimi

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thezombieprostitute · 1 year ago

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Dream Come True - Part 6

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Bullying, Fat shaming, Insecure reader, Kidnapping, Mild violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

“So where are we at with identifying the culprit?” Steve’s voice was tight, even over speakerphone.

“Jake’s identified the hacker,” Curtis reported. “But we’re still nowhere closer to finding out what they want or who they’re working for.”

“Has anyone tried contacting the hacker,” Bucky asked from the phone.

“If we did that we could alert their boss,” Mace warned. “That could get Ran killed if we’re not careful.”

You were sitting with Jake, listening to the conversation. Curtis had initially not wanted you to partake but you had to present your case to the Bosses, backed up by Jake’s data. You fidgeted nervously, feeling helpless.

“Jake did manage to get a foothold in hacker’s bugs so we can hear anything that they hear,” Curtis continued. “Is there a way you can call him about something? Maybe get a code phrase from him?”

Everyone heard Bucky curse at that, “the idiot never learned them. Insisted he’d never need them.”

“So,” Steve started, “we’ve got a possible hostage situation where Ransom is being watched closely and he was only able to communicate with Teach?”

“That’s actually a good point,” Mace perked up. “Why did he send those to her? To her apartment, specifically? Why wouldn’t he send, or something similar, to someone in the family? Or even to the cybercafe where he knew she worked?”

“Probably because she’s not in the family,” Bucky pondered aloud. “Anything he sent to us, legitimate side of things or not, would be flagged for suspicion. They don’t know she’s connected to us.”

“Then I can go in,” you blurt out. All heads in the room snapped to look at you. Instead of letting yourself be intimidated, you continued, “I…I could go in under the guise of angrily returning his gifts. I’ll wear something he’ll recognize as acknowledgement of his code…something one of his characters would’ve worn.”

“No,” Curtis barked. “There are too many unknowns here.”

“She might be our best bet,” Steve intervened. “Teach, how will you know if your message is getting across?”

“Well, Jake’s only identified audio trackers, right? What if I were able to write a question or something while yelling at him about the gifts? Maybe even write some cards out beforehand to make it easier?” While Mace and Jake nodded acknowledgement and thought about it, you could feel your confidence withering under the intensity of Curtis’s glare.

“I don’t know what other practical options we have,” Bucky commented.

“NO,” Curtis snarled. “We’re not putting an outsider in danger! She’s not part of the family, she shouldn’t be risking herself like this.” While his words were for everyone else, his eyes never left you. You’d never seen him so worked up before. It gave you an idea as to why his people tended to follow orders over arguing with him.

“We have audio,” Steve interjected. “She can set up some code phrases or words of her own and let us know what’s going on.” Curtis opened his mouth to say something but Steve cut him off, “and if you try saying no again, Curtis, I’ll leave you out of the planning. Especially if you have no better alternatives.” Curtis clenched his jaw, still glaring at you. Part of you wanted to shy away from him, but you needed to show him you could back up your talk so you stayed firm.

“What are some possible things you could fit into a natural conversation to give us updates,” Mace asked you.

“Um…well, if I call him “Mr. Drysdale”, like I always did, it’ll mean everything’s okay. If I call him “Ransom”, it’ll mean there’s something wrong but I can’t identify it. If I call him “Hugh”, I’m telling you I’m in danger, please come get me now. Do you think you can work with that?”

Mace nodded and added, “if there are other people there, complain about working for him for so many years, using the number of years to tell us how many there are.” You nod in understanding.

“I’ll call Destroyer to set her up with a car,” Bucky chimed in. “He’ll make sure it has no identifiers that can mark her as suspicious. Be ready to go in thirty, Teach.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, just loud enough to make sure he can hear you. You’re still faltering under Curtis’s silent deathglare. You see him twitch at your words and a bit of pain seeping into his eyes.

You pull up into the driveway and put the car in park before taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Jake, Mace and Hal ran you through a bunch of possible conversation scenarios to help you practice your improv and keep your cool.

Curtis seemed to withdraw, focusing instead on getting you the items you needed. He gathered all of the gifts from your apartment to put in the car. He also picked up the four-leaf clover earrings and the Celtic-shield-knot talisman you needed to convey, in Ransom’s code, that the message had been received. As much as his stares made you uncomfortable before, as you left you wished he’d at least look at you.

You take a deep breath, “no going back,” you tell yourself. You step outside the car and grab the gifts before heading inside. You were too stressed to stand and wait after knocking or ringing the bell so you opt to lean into the energy and slam open the door. You stomp towards Ransom’s office where you see him pacing back and forth.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you scold. Ransom’s head snaps to you, he almost seems relieved.

“Ah, Sweetheart,” he purred, “you got my gifts!” He walks closer to you and you see a piece of paper in his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Drysdale. And I’m here to return them to you. I told you, I’m not going to work for you again.” As you speak you hold out your own pre-written card that asks, “someone’s listening?”

Ransom nods, his body language conflicting with his entreating tone, “oh but Angel, you know how well I treat you! No one makes you come like I do.”

“Mr. Drysdale!” Your eyes flash with irritation but he holds out his hands, placatingly, complete with the note you’d seen earlier.

As you take the note he continues, “come on, Angel. I can pay you more and you can get back to worshiping my cock like you did before. Please! You’ve ruined me for other women with that gorgeous, meaty ass.”

Without thinking you smack him hard across the face, “Mr. Drysdale, you will never speak to me again. If you even think about sending me anything else, I’ll get a restraining order!” You turn around and storm out, the note now in your purse. Ransom takes the opportunity to get some ice on his face, hoping he won’t get yet another bruise.

You return to the car and drive away as fast as you safely can. Your eyes are tearing up so you can’t drive too fast. When you feel you’re a safe distance away, you pull into a parking lot and catch your breath. You open up the note and text a photo of it to Jake. You can barely read it because of the tears that keep falling. You hope it’s a good enough photo before you put the note back in your purse and give yourself a minute to catch your breath.

You’re about to turn the car back on and head back when someone taps on your window. Startled, you turn and see a man with bright blue eyes and a thick mustache smiling at you. You roll down your window just a little so you can hear him.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” he leers at you. “What’s a lady like you doing out here by yourself?”

“If you can’t tell me why you’re bothering me, I’m just going to drive off,” you scowled.

“No need for that,” he assures. “I just figured since you told off your boss, you could use a new man to take care of those needs for you. And you are just my type.”

Your eyes widen at his words and you go to start the car. He flashes his gun at you and you freeze up.

“Careful, there, Pumpkin,” I get that you’ve been through a bad breakup with Ran, but I’ll treat you right. If you behave.”

“Um,” you hesitate, visibly shaking. “Can I…can I text my friends? They’re expecting a message of some kind. I’ll just tell them I’m making up with him so they don’t go looking for me?”

“I get to read the message before you send it.”

“Of course, Mr…”

He smiles, making your stomach churn, “just call me Lloyd, Pumpkin.”

“Yes, Lloyd,” you nod. You grab your phone and type out the message to what you hope is an unrecognizable number, before showing it to him.

“Making up with Hugh,” he reads aloud. “Succinct and efficient. I like your style. Go ahead and send it, then come on out of that car and let me show you a great time.”

You hit send and put the phone in your purse, making sure to carry the purse with you as you step out and he leads you to his own vehicle.

Part 5 -- Part 7

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@lokislady82

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x plus size!reader #curtis everett x insecure!reader #mafia!curtis everett #mob!curtis everett #curtis everett #plus size!reader #ongoing series

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

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So incredibly excited that @azrisweek is taking place again this year and that once again I can take part in it. I am super excited to read all the stories, and equally excited to share all my stories with you. You can find them on here, but also on my ao3.

Thank you so much @iftheshoef1tz and @ofduskanddreams for hosting this amazing event, you two are wonderful!💛

Day 1: Contrasts - Let's Get Out of Here (read on tumblr)

Modern AU - Azriel and Eris have been dating for a a few years now, and while they love each other more than anything else, Azriel often finds it hard to fit into the high society world that Eris, a renowned doctor, is part of. He doesn't like the big glamorus parties with all the sparkling wine that Eris takes him with. Azriel worries contrasts to much to his lover, but he would never address it, not wanting to hurt Eris. Obviously Eris notices and they...

Day 2: Familiars - Shadow Shenanigans (read on tumblr)

In canon. Azriel finds himself utterly bored as he is lounging on the couch in Eris' office, waiting for his mate to finally be done with High Lord's business. He keeps on whining, and Eris keeps on shushing him so Azriel comes up with an idea that includes both his shadows and Eris' hounds.

Day 3: Contact - Letters

In canon, but based on Letters to Milena from Franz Kafka. Eris and Azriel can't always be together, Azriel is still the spymaster of the Night Court and has to go on spymaster business while Eris has to keep their relationship hidden due to Beron.

Day 4: Free Day - Blue Neighbourhood (explicit) (read on tumblr)

Modern AU based on Blue Neighbour by Troye Sivan. Eris and Azriel used to be childhood best friends and in their teens they discovered they have feelings for each other, and shared their first kiss. Beron found out about them and punished Eris and forced him to break the contact with Azriel. Later, Azriel and his mother (after she separated from his father) moved away. But when Beron dies years after, Azriel…

Day 5: Slice of Life - Home to You (read on tumblr)

In canon. Azriel returns home from a mission, a little injured and very exhausted. Eris knows exactly how to take care of him.

Day 6: Changes - Claws & Paws (read on tumblr)

Modern AU. Azriel owns a cat. Eris owns a dog. They first meet at the vet and don't really get along so well, but what happens when they find out that...

Day 7: Solstice & Equinox - Only If For a Night (read on tumblr)

In canon. Can be seen as part two of Trapped. Azriel finally takes Eris up on his offer to talk. He goes to the Autumn Court on a very specific day, wanting to escape his loneliness and has no idea how much his visit means to the High Lord of Autumn.

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @talibunny30 (also if you are wondering why you haven’t been on my tag list although you asked me, because I haven’t been able to find the document for such a long time but now I did!!)

#azris #azriel x eris #acotar #acosf #azriel #eris vanserra #azrisweek2024 #pro azris

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mcyt-drabble-exchange · 1 year ago

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MCYT Drabble Exchange: Overview and Rules

Do you like writing? Do you like Minecraft youtubers? Do you, perhaps, like writing about Minecraft youtubers? Well, we do too! Only problem is, we often stay up late wagging our fists at a half-finished document, cursing the fact that writing is hard, life is busy and there's just not enough time in the day to sit down and make a good fic. Well, if you’re looking for a quick little block people centered writing challenge, then boy, do we have just the mini-event for you!

Welcome everyone to the 2024 (first ever!) MCYT Drabble Exchange!

TIMELINE: May 6th - sign ups open May 17th - sign ups close May 24th - all assignments sent May 25-26th - posting period May 26th 11:59pm BST - posting period ends [What time is it for me?] May 27th-June 2nd - treating week

SIGN UPS: [closed]

TREATING SHEET: [here]

RULES: 1. As per Tumblr and AO3 TOS, you must be over 13 to participate. 2. You agree to create a work of exactly 100 words by the given deadline, or contact a mod on Tumblr for your giftee to be reassigned. 3. You agree to abide by your giftee’s DNW. 4. Your work must focus on at least one requested character, but can include non requested characters. 5. All works must be MCYT-centric. 6. This is a 13+ exchange, there is no NSFW allowed. This applies to sexual content as well as extreme (e-rated) gore. 7. Make your gift in good faith - something that you think your giftee would like. 8. All violent/dark/triggering topics must be tagged appropriately. 9. No AI generated content.

POSTING: You can post your work to Tumblr or AO3, we don’t mind either! We do however require you make a Tumblr post tagging both this blog and your giftee. We have an AO3 Collection! Works posted to the collection might take a while to show up, so please don’t panic if you don't see yours! They need to be manually accepted.

So, what is a drabble? A drabble is a written work made up of exactly 100 words. Typically viewed as a challenge, drabbles are often meant to test a writer’s skill in brevity, seeing how efficiently they can communicate emotions or ideas through such tight restrictions. For this event, we are using this unique format to bring the joy of MCYT into the world! Think, how would a lighthearted interaction between Tubbo and Tommy play out? How many insults could Grian hurl at Jimmy? How much emotion can you squeeze out of QSMP Jaiden if you’ve only got her in your little writer hands for 100 words? For this event, we encourage you to be creative, try some new things, and most importantly, have fun! (To get a feel of what you’re working with, keep in mind that the previous paragraph has a word count of 120, twenty words over your limit!)

Are violent/triggering topics allowed? As MCYT content can often include violence, character death, murder games, and other such themes, we do allow them. However those are opt-in - if your giftee hasn’t asked for it, then don’t write it. If you do end up writing about these topics, make sure to tag appropriately!

What if I can’t finish on time? Contact us on this blog as soon as possible! A pinch hit will be sent out, and your giftee will be reassigned. If you do endup requesting a pinch hit, you will still get your own gift!

How will the matches be made? After the sign ups are done, the event mods will match everyone to ensure everyone gets to write what they signed up for! Once matches are made, you will receive your assignment via Tumblr DMs.

Can I make more than one gift? Of course! As long as it complies with your giftee’s requests you’re welcome to write as many drabbles as your heart desires!

I have a different question? Send us an ask or a DM!

#mcyt #mcytblr #mcyt event #mcyt exchange #info post #mcytblrsource

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rinaforpages · 6 months ago

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matthew x reader

heavy angst. hurt, comfort.

nonidol!reader (reader is a student)

happy thanksgiving lol (i’ll post another more happier one too i promise)

————

the phone calls were always short. he was busy, and that you understood. it didnt hurt less, though. the "oh, i have to go." or the "sorry babes" went through your heart. you were tired. you knew he loved you, of course, but you couldn't help the doubts in your mind.

so when it was 2 weeks without calls from your boyfriend, you really started to doubt things. your roommates, (some of your best friends at ubc) noticing your depression, brought you out drinking. it wasnt the brightest idea, because you only got more depressed and then angry, to the point they had to confiscate your phone to prevent you from angry calling your boyfriend.

it was three weeks and you were in final weeks, so you completely set your phone to do not disturb. matthew and your parents were the only people who could get through. still no call from him. your parents even called after exams were over to check up on you. you asked them for some money for a plane ticket. your friends called you foolish. your parents sighed, but agreed. matthews parents (when you saw them at the store to get alcohol for the post-final party) had no idea why he was no contact.

it was a whole month without contact from matt, and you had given up. your finger hovered over "send" on the "lets break up" message multiple times a day, but you always found yourself swiping out of the app. your friends were sick of seeing you moping, and they were beyond pissed at matthew. your and matthews parents struggled to understand the situation, and you didnt want to explain it. his sister offered to call him for you, but you refused. you didnt want to fight him in front of his family.

you had lost too much weight from worrying about matthew in 5 weeks. it was silly, really. you weren't really anyone on your own. your friends and family attempted to bring you out, or make you food, only for you not to be hungry. who were you if not matthews girlfriend or a student? you struggled with that question for a while.

6 weeks without matthew came and went, and you watched him smile on your screen a lot. you didnt smile along, like you usually did, but you didnt cry, either. you felt empty. you didnt smile much outside of that, either. they werent doing much convincing before, but they had to now.

"yn, please sweetheart. let him go." lilly said at 7 weeks. you shook your head as her boyfriend brought up the takeout. "yn, its been 7 weeks since hes contacted you. i dont care how fucking busy he is. thats unacceptable."

you glanced at the phone on the table, waiting for it light up with a call from matty❤️❤️. the seconds ticked on the wall clock your other roommate had gotten from her aunt. slowly, tears threatening to fall, you sent the message waiting to be sent.

lilly rushed to your side, holding you as you cried. your phone buzzed on the table.

hamnyangie

"hanbin, i really dont—" you choked out.

"did you mean it?" it was matthew. you almost dropped the phone, your heart clattering in your chest.

"matt." the name was a rotten whisper in your mouth. "you didnt call or text for 7 weeks. of...of course i meant it." a large part of you didn't.

"what can i do?" you could hear his voice break over the phone, and your heart shattered again.

"i don't know anymore." it was the truth. the first truth you had said in a while. "it hurts, matt. you called me on hanbin's phone??"

"i wasn't sure if you had blocked me," he murmured. "i was going to go see you or call or text during your finals, but the company..."

something in you clicked, something his sister had said about the company's behavior, and you bit the insides of your cheeks. you wanted to scream down the phone, half at him, half at his manager, but you held your tongue—for fear of making it worse.

“oh. matt…” lilly glared, holding out her hand, wanting to say a few choice words. sarah, your other roommate, walked in with groceries, and lilly’s boyfriend told her the situation. she glared at the phone in your hand.

“i know. im sorry. im so… i know there’s no apologies i can make that can make it better.” you heard whispers over the phone, hanbin shushing someone. “sorry, hold on. shut up, ricky,” he hissed to him, who laughed on the other side.

“i watched your content. i couldn’t bare not to.” you admitted, standing up, pacing around. matthew let out a small “yeah?”

“all i could look at was your photos. all i can think about is you. you plague my mind, yknow. in the best way possible.”

“did it hurt?” he hummed questioningly, “when i sent that message, when you couldn’t contact me?”

“yes, it hurt. like an eighteen wheeler hauling hardened cement. both.” your teeth ground together

“that’s how i feel. when you don’t text back, or you hang up almost immediately. i get it, sure, but it’s not fair. i deserve some time too, no?” you don’t know when the tears started falling, but there was no use stopping them, so you refused the tissues from sarah.

“i… i never…” he trailed off, a door shutting on his line.

“thought about it? yeah im sure you didnt, matt.” you didn’t mean to be so venomous, but this had been building up for so long.

“once you graduate…”

“this year? your contact isn’t even up, and you’ll continue with your other company.”

“i won’t be an idol after the contract is up.” you paused your pacing, and fell silent. “i have enough money for the both of us, and if you don’t like this…”

“matt, matt, what? no but you love it, and if it’s just because of me, i…i can’t ask you to…”

“honestly, this company sucked my joy. and if i can’t do it with these guys…” you smiled into the phone, remembering something hanbin’s younger sister had said when you saw her last in korea.

“don’t quit, but… promise you’ll talk to me more? please?” you heard a soft laugh, and you frowned.

“of course, yn, im sorry. im so sorry.”

#matthew seok x reader #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #matthew x reader #seok matthew x reader

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weeeeeekly · 10 months ago

Text

quarter life crisis – ot5 tomorrow x together x afab!reader

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

blurb !!! Reincarnation can bring soulmates together despite their time apart. Being a huge fan of TOMORROW X TOGETHER helped you get through the struggles of entering early adulthood. You would thank them personally if you ever could but when you possibly get the chance it’s more than what you could ever hope for.

info !!! txt are still idols, reincarnation au, soulmates au, polyamory, throuple²… they’ll all eventually date each other, mc has mental health struggles, universe assigned lactose intolerance, team no kids, glasses wearer, lives in the middle of fuck nowhere but still a city (just go with it), pet names used are “our love” and princess, & not edited.

wc: 4.1k (idk what happened)

WARNINGS !!! NSFW, MDNI, 18+, extremely self-indulgent, soft yandere!txt, mentions of mental health & self-harm (nothing graphic) for entire series

author’s note !!! This is fiction!!! this is made up!!! I do not condone breaking in, stalking, and other ulterior motives to get close to someone you are romantically interested in.

why are there not more ot5!txt x fem/afab or gender-neutral reader… mandatory note that i do not think txt act like this in real life. I also cannot come up with a blurb for the life of me, so please peep the info tags.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

CHAPTER NINE

extra warning for triggering topics for child neglect, shitty parents, & self-harm.

& general warning for SMUT and sexual jokes!! mentions of afab (assigned female at birth) body parts like tits & pussy, reader isn’t a virgin, men on men action, oral (fem receiving), fingering, handjob, cum eating, PIV (penis in vagina) sex, unhuman levels of stamina & recovery periods, sixsome (??)

You’ve always hated your birthday.

Ever since your 11th birthday, it has become an enemy. A reminder that you are half of both of your parents. A reminder that you’re still here after all these years.

That – despite everything – you’re still you and you have been through everything. Suffering through life events that most people, especially children, should never have to witness.

The memory of your mom letting go of your hand in the middle of the crowd at the busy mall so she could smoke a cigarette leaving your 7-year-old self to wait for her. Or when your dad unscrewed your bedroom door off its hinges and tossed it in the trash after you got a C on a math quiz in 7th grade. Or when your parents spent your college tuition on your 17th birthday to go on separate cruises leaving you at home alone.

You happily spent the night before your 18th birthday in a shitty motel a few hours away by bus, surrounded by two suitcases that held your only belongings. With a box of cupcakes, you bought at the store a few minutes ago, blowing out a pretend candle as you blocked your parents’ contacts to never reach you again.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

A month ago, your life changed for the better when 5 of your favorite guys moved in next door for reasons you still don’t know to this day. The 6 of you also developed a close relationship with each other in such a short amount of time. You guess it could be contributed to the pull Soobin and Taehyun always talked about.

Thinking back on it, you did occasionally get this feeling in your stomach that felt like someone, or something was trying to rip you in half from inside. Usually, you would chalk up any sort of pain in your abdominal region to be period cramp related, however, the feeling would always happen when it wasn’t near your period. The last time the pull happened was right before you left work the day TXT appeared.

You had just gotten into that stupid fender bender right before an 8 AM to 4 PM shift and started to space out around lunchtime. After you had your break, mainly your boss talking about her niece, your stomach started feeling weird after you got back to your desk.

The same feeling as the pull.

You doubt that you’ll ever get a concrete explanation for that, pushing the thought away since you had work to get to.

Watching the sunrise was one of the few positives of living in your town. The rest of the drive to your work was the same old routine as usual. You go through the rest of your motions as you clock in to work. You smile at your phone from the texts your friend sent.

roomie HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 23! I’M SORRY THAT I DIDNT WISH YOU EXACTLY AT MIDNIGHT :((( THEY HAD ME WORK IN THE NICU AND THIS BABY WAS TOO CUTE TO PUT DOWN

roomie ILL SEE U TMRW TO GIVE U UR GIFTS GOTTA WORK AGAIN I LOVE U

you i love you just as much

you don’t overwork yourself <3

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your metal water bottle drops to the floor from your hands as your boss and coworkers hold a cake and birthday balloons in front of you. There’s the faint hum of a speaker playing a piano version of the “happy birthday” song as the people surrounding you have smiles on their faces.

“Blow out the candle!”

Closing your eyes to make a wish, your mind is only repeating one single thought to wish for.

I wish that everything stays exactly the way it is now.

You don’t want to leave the dream that involves TXT being neighbors, hanging, and kinda being smitten with you.

When you open your eyes, you break into a smile that hurts your cheeks. One of your coworkers hands you a neon blue napkin to wipe your oncoming tears. Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you dry your eyes as your boss hands you the first slice of cake.

It’s exactly the way you want it – cold, triple layers with your favorite filling in between, and a scoop of lactose free ice cream on the side. You never realized that someone paid enough attention to you to get your birthday cake right. Or that anyone wanted to pay attention to you.

This makes you tear up all over again.

“Since I’m the greatest boss in the entire world,” Your boss starts as they eat a slice of cake, “And it is your birthday, you’re free to go home after this to have a 3-day weekend.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I got cake. If everyone else leaves early too, I can go see my niece.”

“I won’t keep you from that.”

You thank everyone for surprising you, pack a big slice to bring home for your roommate and the guys, and happily head home.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The second you unlock your door, Beomgyu pops a mini confetti canister while shouting “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OUR LOVE!”

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight before you – Yeonjun and Soobin coming around the corner with a homemade cake with candles, Kai throwing rose petals in the air, Taehyun holding a giant gift bag, and Beomgyu taking your stuff from your hands to lead you closer to the middle of the room. Your living room and kitchen area have been decorated with streamers in rainbow colors and bunches of balloons covering the floor.

They sing “happy birthday” to you as Beomgyu hugs you.

“This is almost the best birthday gift ever. Thank you, guys, really.”

Beomgyu leans his head on your shoulder as you blow the candles out “Almost?”

“The best gift was opening my door to see TXT staring back at me.”

“Aw.”

“I really cannot thank you all enough for doing this for me. For even knowing my birthday.”

Soobin feeds you a piece of the cake he baked earlier that day, making sure to watch your expression to see if you enjoy the food. You compliment him on his baking skills as the others share the cake as well.

Since you’re sitting down, you can finally live in the moment as you start to enjoy your birthday, but just a little. It isn’t until TXT starts doing show and tell with the gifts they got you that you stare at them.

You want to blame your hormones.

That you would get your period soon.

Just biology.

But, honestly, you’re not sure what came over you this time. Maybe it was the compression shirt Kai was wearing. Or maybe it was the way Soobin kept pushing his hair back to show his forehead. Or maybe Yeonjun switching his earrings from hoops to studs. Or maybe Beomgyu wearing his glasses. Or maybe Taehyun wearing a crop top.

But it is definitely on you for opening your mouth and half joking, not joking to say, “I want Five Guys to fuck up my guts.”

Soobin’s head whips so fast towards you, “Huh?”

“You want fast food? I can order.” Kai unlocks his phone.

You stare Taehyun dead in the eyes, “Take your pants off.”

Beomgyu starts running around in a circle around the room as he yells “WOAH!” and Yeonjun’s ears turn bright red.

You let out a giggle, “Oh my god, that felt so good to say out loud.”

“Pants off?” Taehyun asks as he starts to pull down his sweatpants.

A beautiful pair of gray sweatpants.

Kai’s eyes go wide as his jaw drops, “Clothes? Off?”

Yeonjun panics as he frantically waves his hands to stop Taehyun from losing an article of clothing. Once he ties the strings into a triple bow for Taehyun, he sits you back down in your chair.

“Please don’t joke about things like that.”

“Why? Are you turned on?”

Yeonjun avoids eye contact as you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I knew it! We can do a fun group activity! Get STI tested and then buy condoms!”

“CON–”

Beomgyu begins before Soobin smacks his massive hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Me next.”

Soobin gives you a distraught look as Yeonjun and Kai kneel in front of you.

“I’ve had this dream before.”

Yeonjun face palms as Kai gently holds your hands, “Have you… drank or ate anything…?”

Insinuating if you were tipsy, drunk, or high. You wish, but you were 10000% stone cold sober.

“Nope! Just in a really good mood.”

“Is it okay if we touch you?”

“I consent wholeheartedly.”

Then, with the strength of Greek Gods and Goddesses, Yeonkai pick you up in a shared princess carry as they brought you to your bedroom. They put you on your bed as you smirk at them.

“Oh my god.” Dragging out the last syllable and bashfully covering your eyes, “Just discovered something new about myself.”

Soobin, Beomgyu, and Taehyun file into your bedroom too and close the door behind them.

“It’s great seeing you so happy on your birthday, but maybe we should have a talk.”

Taehyun helps scooch you against your headboard as he sits on your right side with Beomgyu on your left and the Yeonjun, Soobin, and Kai in front of you.

“We,” Yeonjun begins as he holds your attention, “like you a lot. We liked you in our past life and we like you in this current life.”

“I still don’t fully understand how we’re soulmates and reincarnation and everything else, but I like what we have right now. And I would still like you guys if TXT didn’t exist, and we met as strangers.”

“Our beautiful love.” Soobin comments as he caresses your face.

If you could freeze a moment and be able to replay it whenever you wanted it would definitely be this moment. The way the guys are all looking at you with such adoration in their eyes and their soft smiles.

Ugh, you could keel over and die from happiness.

“Speaking of beautiful things, who’s going to take their shirt off.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah. Honestly even a little shoulder peek would make me go rabid.”

And like an animal in a zoo when mealtime comes around, you go crazy when Beomgyu pulls Soobin’s shirt off his shoulder making Soobin shy and causes you to jump off the bed to do zoomies around the apartment. When you walk back, embarrassed at your actions, your bedroom door creeks open as you peek your head in to see the guys turn to look at but with Taehyun completely shirtless now.

You shut the door and run into your bathroom, locking the door behind you as the posters of them stare back at you mockingly. You turn the shower on to the coldest setting and start to take your clothes off.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun calls from the other side.

“Y-yeah, just need to shower.”

“Okay, we’re going to head out and be right back.”

“Stay safe!”

You stay still as you hear their footsteps head to the front door and leave even hearing the lock click in place. Once their voices fade away, you drop to the ground to hug your knees.

You had always considered yourself funny and liked to make a bunch of inappropriate jokes, especially when you got close to people. Being comfortable around friends allowed you to let loose. Sometimes you felt like you were annoying and weren’t sure if people wanted to stick around, so you’re afraid you’ll drive them away eventually.

Getting back up to look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but grimace. You had some scars littering your upper thighs and stretch marks on your stomach, arms, and tits.

Letting out a sigh as you step away from the mirror to take off your bra and underwear to actually shower. The water was freezing cold, but you heard its good to calm down and it is refreshing as you quickly go through your usual showering routine. Heading back to your room with a towel wrapped around your body and another towel around your hair to be met by the guys sitting on your bed in pjs.

“Uh hey guys. What’s up?”

Taehyun holds up a stack of printed papers as you put your new glasses on to read what it says.

“All negative for any STIs.”

“And we paid for rapid results!”

You hold the towel closer to your chest as Soobin holds up a box of condoms and lube.

“Uh… could you guys leave my room for a minute so I can change.”

Kai leans back on the bed as he says, “Drop the towel.”

If there was a camera to stare into for your reaction you would. Your eyes flit from member to member to see their similar serious expressions.

“Do you want to have sex?”

They all talk over each other, but you pick up on the unanimous “yes” coming from each of them.

“But are you sure like you consent to having sex.” The guys all verbally agree as you continue, “Any one can stop if they feel uncomfortable at any time and be able to voice if they don’t like something.”

Taehyun quickly translates for Soobin, Beomgyu, and Kai as they tell you “yes”.

“Safe word is “americano”, okay?”

You snort at the choice of word but agree as you take your now dry hair out from the towel. “I would prefer to keep a shirt on, hate feet touching, slapping, and degradation.”

Yeonjun translates and then informs you, “Soobin hates his ears being touched, Beomgyu doesn’t have anything, Taehyun also doesn’t like slapping, Kai will also keep his shirt on, and I don’t like hair pulling.”

You give a thumbs up as you turn to your closet to grab an oversized shirt to put on. Taking a deep breath, you drop your towel which causes a chorus of “damn” making your face heat up as you slip the shirt on and turn around.

“Oh, shit one last thing. I, uh, have some scars on my upper thighs but I haven’t done it in a while.

Yeonjun solemnly nods his head as he motions for you to come closer.

He kisses your hand and puts it on his cheek, “We just hope you’re feeling better now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You tell him truthfully. “And last thing I promise, I haven’t shaved.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Taehyun says, “You’re pretty.”

And with that compliment from Taehyun, you take your glasses off, place them on your shelf, lean forward, kiss Yeonjun. You caught him by surprise, obviously, but a second later he starts kissing back and wraps your hands around the back of his head. You feel a figure start kissing the back of your neck and hear the rustling of clothes coming off.

Yeonjun breaks the kiss to take a gasp of air as a blur of blond hair snakes around your shoulder to start kissing you.

“Hi Hyuka.”

He stops kissing your forehead to give you a cute smile that makes you want to go into war for him. (You felt that before but now it’s on another level now that he’s right in front of you.)

“Hi princess.”

Your legs get weak a little as your eyes glaze over.

“You like that, princess?”

You feebly nod at Kai as you lean forward to kiss him. You open your mouth slightly wider to let his tongue in. He tastes like the mint mouthwash in your bathroom. You tilt your head back more to let him lead the kiss as you feel another pair of hands wander your body.

Kai leans back from kissing you and smiles at you before kissing your forehead, looking down to see Beomgyu without his glasses kneeling in front of you now and kissing your stomach over your shirt. Soobin then switches places with him, he doesn’t hesitate in putting your hands in his hair to pull his head back. You close the gap between the two of you as your lips hover above his.

“Wait.” You remember, “I have my STI results from my doctor appointment last month.”

Soobin barely lets you finish your sentence before he starts kissing and sucking on your neck.

Yeonjun whispers in your ear as he cups your tits over your shirt, “It’s okay, we know you’re negative too.”

You have to pause from gasping at Soobin’s attention, “What?”

“Your results are on your desk.” Taehyun whimpers out as he palms himself over his sweatpants on your bed.

Nodding your head as you go back to letting Soobin kiss your neck, you’re sure that you put the paper in a folder in your car, but you were negative for any STIs. Beomgyu doesn’t let you dwell on the thought anymore as he starts kissing your thighs.

“Can we, uh, go on the bed?”

Soobin trails kisses up to your face before giving one last peck before Beomgyu moves you onto the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you. Taehyun moves your head into his lap as he smiles down at you. Soobin and Yeonjun sit on both sides of Taehyun and start kissing his neck in turns as Kai stands next to Beomgyu.

You lock eyes with Beomgyu as he begins slowly moving his hands up your legs and stopping at your thighs.

“Can I?”

“Yes please.”

He spreads your legs open, licking his lips when your legs are open for him and positions himself so his arms can stop your legs from shutting. He gives you one last look before surging forward to kiss your pussy. You let out a gasp as begins licking at you moving his head in different directions to get the best reaction out of you.

As Beomgyu eats you out like you’re the last meal on earth and he’s been starving, Kai takes his pants and boxers off and begins stroking himself. You motion for him to get closer to you and grasp his dick in your hand. You haven’t seen that many dicks in real life, and the few you did see were okay, so you’re not sure if it’s because you’re insanely attracted to him or because he really is ethereal but even his dick is pretty. He’s slightly bigger than average and has good girth, you trace the veins as you stare at it.

“That feels… so good.”

“It’s going to feel better in a sec.”

You take your head off his dick and spit in your palm. When you wrap your hand back around his shaft, Kai lets out a sigh as you begin slowly stroking him.

You do your best to gradually speed up but you’re getting closer to cumming from Beomgyu eating you out, but you accidentally squeeze when Beomgyu focuses on your clit.

“Fuck, sorry, Hyuka.”

He hisses as you mediocrely continue jerking him off.

“It’s. Okay. Getting. Close.” He says as he bites his lip.

You feel the pressure building up and getting close to cumming, so you do your best to have Kai cum at the same time you do. Just as you’re about take your hand away to tangle in Beomgyu’s luscious locks Kai throws his head back as he cums all over your hand. Succumbing to your inner thoughts, you lick his cum off his hand as your other hand yanks Beomgyu’s hair to ride out your high.

“Holy shit.”

Beomgyu leans back on his heels as he smirks at you with a dark look in eyes, licking at his lips that glisten from you.

“Thanks.”

As your chest heaves and you lick the rest of Kai off your hand, you thank Beomgyu. “More like I should be thanking you. Best head I’ve ever received.”

Beomgyu gets up and walks out of your room probably to head to the bathroom to wash his mouth. Taehyun grabs your attention as his boner is poking at your cheek now. You sit up as you turn to face the guys – Yeonjun and Soobin are now fully making out and Kai is helping Taehyun take off his shirt.

“People would pay so much money to have this sight.”

Taehyun laughs at your joke as Kai tosses his shirt towards your desk chair. You can’t help but admire his body and how much effort he’s put into working out. The few pictures and teases he’s shown of his abs do him no justice to how crazy they look up close. You could wash their dirty pjs with his abs with how washboard they are.

God, if only they could read your insane thoughts.

“Okay.” You clap your hands together as they pay attention to you, “Who wants to go first to get head?”

They stare at you blankly as you feel embarrassment start to creep up.

“What’d I say?”

Beomgyu comes back with a washcloth in hand as he walks over to help you clean your thighs.

“Silly love.” He kisses your temple. “We’re ready to fuck you.”

Before you can let out a strangled noise, you let out a yelp as Taehyun knocks you down and starts kissing you. One of his hands gropes at your chest causing your mouth to open widen and allows him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

“I hope Taehyun isn’t being too rough.” Yeonjun whispers in your left ear.

You shake your head “no” as you continue making out with Taehyun having your hands roam his shirtless body. Taehyun trails a hand down to cup your pussy and tease his middle finger through your folds.

“You are so fucking hot.” He murmurs against your lips as pushes a finger inside you.

You rest your head against his shoulder as he works another finger inside you to stretch you out a little. It feels a little weird, but you haven’t had any action for a while. The most you’ve done is use your bullet vibe.

“Okay Tae, I’m ready.”

He kisses you again before sitting up, grabbing a condom, and rolling it on. Once it’s on, he squeezes out a good amount of lube on his dick and holds your legs up, positioning himself at your entrance. He sinks into you and you both lout out a moan.

“I have been dreaming about this.”

He slowly sinks into you, inch by inch until he bottoms out and slowly pulls out to repeat the process. After a few times, he switches up the pace and starts thrusting into you.

“Tae, it feels so good.”

“I know, princess. It feels so good for me too.”

Taehyun thrusts into you at a solid pace that feels amazing as Yeonjun whispers dirty thoughts into your ear.

“We’ve been wanting to do this for too long.”

“I missed hearing your moans. Like heaven to my ears.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

The mix of Taehyun speeding up his thrusts and Yeonjun’s last comment helps bring you closer to cumming yet again. You grip Taehyun’s shoulders as he continues fucking you.

“I’m close.”

Taehyun takes this as an invitation to sneak a hand down to rub your clit. Your eyes roll back at the incredible feeling as Taehyun leaves kisses on your face. It doesn’t take that much longer for you to cum and clench around him as he hisses. He fucks you through it as his hips stutter as he cums into the condom. His hand is still playing with your clit until he pulls out and your thighs shake at the overstimulation.

“God. Damn.”

You stare up at Taehyun as he grins at you and begins cleaning your body with the washcloth.

“Hope you enjoyed that.” He says as he kisses you again.

You hum in agreement as you back against your bed.

“I’m just gonna… close my eyes for a little.”

You close your eyes and before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

masterlist | previous | next

author’s note sorry y’all i have to promote safe sex even in fiction because sex health is important to me.

& again, everything is fictional!!! the depiction of sex is written specifically for fiction!! i am in no way insinuating any member of TXT acts like this because this is fiction!!!

#txt x reader #txt x you #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together x you #txt fanfic #txt smut #ot5 x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #yandere txt

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haru-natsuka · 3 hours ago

Text

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 12

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3 << CHAPTER 4 << CHAPTER 5 << CHAPTER 6 << CHAPTER 7 << CHAPTER 8 << CHAPTER 9 << CHAPTER 10 << CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12: UNWANTED GUEST, UNWELCOMED RING

You carefully placed a cloth over the still-warm pie, its golden crust releasing a buttery scent as you slid it into the drawer. With your pie safely kept, you went back to your chamber. Tonight, at last, would be quiet. Before you could even hit the pillow, there were another constant knocks being heard.

'Did madam forgot something?'

You rushed to open the door, as wide as possible, expecting to find the elderly lady back. Before you could even get a word out, someone's fist made contact with your head.

Gasping in disbelief and pain, you staggered back, trying to regain your bearings. You clutched your head, wincing at the sharp pain, your voice filled with pain and anguish as you cried out.

"That hurts!"

Your words turned into a plaintive exclamation, unable to hide the pain coursing through your skull. With the crook of your eye, you turned your gaze towards the intruder, keeping your head low, holding back the tears that started to form in your eyes.

"I apologise Y/N. I thought you didn't hear me" In front of you was Cyrus, not your favourite madam...

'Oh, what should I expect. The pain worsen 2 times now!'

Instead of displaying any concern, he prioritised the purpose of his visit. Simply, he did not care about your pain.

"I needed to talk to you," Cylus replied, his voice carrying an urgent tone. "May I come in?"

'Truly a JERK. How dare he hit on this girl!'

"Of course not"

How dare he? Even Adrian who live next door never set a foot in your house. If your future husband did not step into the house yet. It was shameful to let other man inside unmarried lady house.

"If you want to talk, we'll talk here"

You pointed firmly to the porch where the two of you stood.

"Very well, then," Cylus nodded. " I only need a few minutes"

"Seconds"

Cylus gave a firm nod in acknowledgment. "Understood. I'll make it quick," he responded, knowing that your patience was limited. He was suddenly on his knee and taken your left hand in a tight grip.

"Wh-what! Hey! Get up-" You tried to tug at your hand but his hold remained strong.

'This is bad. Where is this eerie feelings come from?'

"Since the day we reunited, I keep on thinking about you. There is no more Liesel, there is only you and this is not because I just break up with her but truly, I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Your eyes widened in surprise, the bold admission catching you off guard. Cylus on his knee before you, confessing his love and proposing marriage. The unexpectedness of the situation left you momentarily speechless.

"No. Go back. Get away"

You refused to accept him even if his confession is sincere, which you doubt it was. You already lectured him on how much you love and only love Adrian. Which part he could not understand?!

"I know that you are not interested," He responded, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"But I can't just leave it. I just.. can't. You're always in my mind"

Without your permission, he slipped a ring on your ring finger.His confession continued, his words tinged with a hint of desperation.

"I've gone beyond mere words, even taking down the boar we encountered before in a hunt."

Cylus's expression grew increasingly solemn, the weight of his emotions evident in each word he spoke. "My feelings for you are nothing but genuine, Y/N."

With an unsettling intensity, Cylus pressed on, his words tinged with a hint of obsession. "I want to kiss you too. Isn't that the pattern with Adrian? Whenever you give him a flower, he kisses you on the forehead. Now, I've delivered you a boar and even a ring. Don't I deserve more in return? Hmmm my darling Y/N?"

Tag list:

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii

@elsoleil @iamapotatoe @yzuposts @black-butterfly-2405

@beeskn3es @ivorette @type-ink @lol-leo @rafayelslittleconchshell

@yandereaficionado

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captain-hawks · 1 month ago

Note

I saw idol!kuroo thirst resurgence and so I went and unearthed this from ye early days of our texts lmao

Ok ok so idol!kuroo notices you zoning out in particular when he has a body harness+face chain in his costumes. So, as a loving bf he gets you one made with pearls. "So we can match," he drawls with a lazy grin when you look up in delight from the tissue-filled box.

And this one is made with stainless steel links. So even though it looks quite delicate and pretty, it's actually quite...durable. and kuroo had it customized to his specifications so it also comes with some detachable additions. You think you'll only use the *ahem* extra attachments when you're alone.

But there's nothing kuroo loves more than to be out with you in a loose fitting sweater and the full harness. To a casual bystander, when he leans in to wrap you in a hug, he looks like nothing more than a doting boyfriend as his long, rangy arm wraps around your middle. So what if his hand slips under the hem of your sweater a bit? He's probably just rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of your waist.

What they don't see is all the intricate ways a single strand of pearls just above your waistline crisscross up to the tiny nipple clamps that have been torturing you for hours as the once-cool pearls become humid against your sweltering skin.

Or the way a single long finger hooked in another place on the smooth, creamy links tugs on the chain that disappears into your waistband, where a long line of beaded pearls leads to a lovingly-placed clit clamp adorned with the tiniest emerald heart kuroo had specifically made for you.

You think the torturous wait is finally going to end when happy hour comes to a close, but when yaku suggests going to dinner, kuroo's smile crooks up in mischief.

"Sure. Let's go get fish though, the DHA and EPA are good for the heart," he says easily, as he gives the chain attached to the heart in your panties a few gentle tugs. You thought you were done for when you saw him in his harness. But you had no idea what you were in for when he got you your own.

cheesy i love how you snuck this in on anon HAHAHA. thank u for bringing thiS BACK BC I FORGOT ABOUT THIS BRILLIANT NUGGET FROM YOUR BIG BEAUTIFUL BRAIN. it deserves to be seen outside of our dms!!!!!!

i'm so.....so very unwell over this entire concept once again. the pearl harness!!!!! ......the clamps..............the emerald heart...........him subtly reaching in to tease...........................i must lay down now. please contact me in 5-7 business days after i've finished recovering ty.

(also i think i would sell my soul for kuroo in a body chain)

#💌 inbox #🏐🍰

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narcissarina · 1 year ago

Text

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun || Chapter 6: The moon || Chapter 7: The moon || Chapter 8: The sun || Chapter 9: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,032

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 10:

THE OUTSIDER

He didn’t gave me a choice but to do this, I thought we were a team but I guess not. He doesn’t understand that we needed that girl, well—that was what the Tsaritsa said, and so I did what I have to do. It’s not a crime to follow someone’s order, was it?

I was pretty much delighted when she had fallen asleep, it was as easy as Scara said to hack cameras and manipulate them, so I did. Took her away from home and kept her in the basement, well—probably more of a torture room, I love to see his reaction when he marks to himself that the Tsaritsa isn’t playing games.

All he needed to do was deliver the goods and have a lovely conversation with the client, but no—he was too busy talking to his darling sunshine and saving children and women, not that it was a bad idea.

It was nice of him to use his position and power to save the poor who couldn’t protect themselves. But the Tsaritsa said that time is ticking, she doesn’t have all day now, does she?

Now here I am, stuck with his mess with his own client—not mine.

My head throbs as his client ramble to me, I could only maintain a friendly smile—showing not even a slight of irritation even though I want to put a bullet and slit his throat up.

“Yes, I understand your frustration.” I nod and folded my arms, leaning my back to the soft cushion of my seat “what about m—” I interrupt him, “No need to get concern about your… goods.” I let out a soft chuckle and rest my chin to my palm, “I’ll be sure to confiscate you and give you your goods.” I added and took a sip of my glass of red wine.

He opened his mouth but shut it again, “seems like a good deal, no? I’ll even add a discount for you.” I rest my arms wide from the back of my seat, “not only I’m doing something ‘good’ but also…” I mutter the last words, “benefitting the Tsaritsa some informations…”

“what was that?”

“It’s beneficial for the both of us.” I cover up with a lie and smiled, leaning forward and resting my elbow to my knees,

“What do you say, mister Xy?” I look at him in the eye, he’s hesitant but agreed anyway, “great!” I stood and clap my hands together and look at my men, “I’ll be sure to contact you,” I say as I turn to look at him, with his expression remains a hint of doubt.

“Report.” I mumble next to my men as he lean to whisper in my ear, I nodded as I listen to his words. “Very good,” I pat his shoulder and turn around and walk towards the exit, as if on cue—my men had followed me out. The car has been ready and I step inside, adjusting and making myself feel comfortable inside.

Crossed my legs and lean my head against the window, “Let’s go back to little miss sunshine.”

The driver nod and drove off.

As I entered in my own home, I hear voices from below—it must’ve been someone accompanying her with the door slightly open, I sigh and took off my coat and give it to my servant.

I walked down the stairs and saw one of my men arguing with the miss, I decided to eavesdrop before interrupting their fun.

“You can’t just push the remote whenever you please because you’re that hungry!” he argued, she just looks at him with her eyes squint, “why not?” she innocently asked, “because you’re eating every often, you literally asked for food three fucking times in a row!”

“because I’m hungry.”

“And we’re gonna run out of ingredients to feed to you! The fuck kind of stomach you have, woman!?”

I snicker, holding back my laugh as I let the scene play out.

“then y’all shouldn’t have left me with the remote then.” She frowns, “can’t do that. That’s against our boss’s order.” He clears his throat as he spoke, I heard him take a deep breath before continuing.

I heard a bell ring upstairs, I’m gonna burst but I can’t.

“Come on! What now?!”

“I want desserts.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing—my arm on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this girl, it’s either this is the reason why Scara chose her or another but this is beyond hilarious.

“B-Boss!” he stammer and fixes himself in front of me, I dismiss it, trying to calm myself down. I breath in and out as I slowly got my cool back, I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing—my arm on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this girl, it’s either this is the reason why Scara chose her or another but this is beyond hilarious.

I look at him as I see his skin jump, “what are you waiting for? Get her desserts.”

“but sir.”

“No excuses, don’t want her get hungry now, do you? Would you like a demonstration when Scara’s little sunshine get starved?” the corner of my lips tug a small but sinister smile, “no sir.” He answered and left with his head looking at the ground.

I let myself see him out then turn to look down at her, my figure towering her down in her ground, “does this frighten you?” I asked, she shakes her head and nod a little, “only a bit.”

“Why?”

“there’s no warmth in the darkness.”

I suck my cheeks in and nodded, “but it also makes me feel safe too, sometimes.” She mumbled the word sometimes as she fidgets with her fingers.

“Will you let me go now?”

I chuckle and shakes my head, “not until your hubby give me something that I want.”

“what is it?”

“It’s classified, only belonged to his stepmother.”

Her eyes speaks curiosity and an itch to dig into it more, I smiled and shift my weight to my left, “don’t want you snooping around to his personal life now, curiosity does kill the cat.” I warned and turn around and leave her behind.

I can feel her eyes burn at the back of my neck.

It’ll be fun playing with her for a while…

Link:

Chapter 11: THE MOON

#genshin impact #dark romance #darkened desires series #scara x reader #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin scara #mafia!scaramouche #mafia!scara #chapter with Ajax aka Childe !! :3 #childe #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax #childe tartagalia

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theroseceleste · 8 months ago

Text

Vampire Miguel - Part 1 - Ratting Around

You are a journalist for the Daily Bugle in Nueva York, desperate to write about something good to keep your formidable boss from breathing down your neck. You receive a tip-off from a concerned member of the public and begin an investigation. Just what will you discover?

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my brother who is much more of a fan about vampires than I am, so his help has been very much appreciated as I write this. Thank you bro! xx

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.

Word count - 4621

Contains - Mentions of rats, particularly dead ones.

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Enjoy! xx

Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

An empty page on your laptop screen glares back at you, while your boss’s angry yelling still rings in your ears. Multiple obnoxious office phones ringing fills the communal workspace, not permitting you to think clearly. The only luxury that provides you some sliver of sanity is your cup of coffee for you to sip on while you panic internally about what the hell you’re going to write about next for The Daily Bugle.

The blinking, black cursor at the top of your blank document taunts you, pressuring you to write something. But what?

You look ruefully at your colleagues who all appear to be busy with something. Either that or they’re all brilliant actors pretending to be working until they catch a sniff of something vaguely interesting happening in Nueva York.

Opening up your emails, you almost scoff with frustration at nothing new in your inbox. Of course. The distinct lack of unread emails is a further taunt. You are going to have to do some serious digging or intense scraping of the barrel to produce something read-worthy.

Underneath all of your subfolders in your email program, a shared mailbox is displayed with several unread items. You hover your mouse over it. Is the day going so badly that you’re considering looking at what everyone else has overlooked? You click on the mailbox with an indignant eye roll. Yes, the day is going that badly…

Taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes scan the unread items. A couple go straight into the Deleted folder as you see they’re clearly phishing emails that have managed to slip through the filter, but the others seemed legitimate reports from the public.

This mailbox was for Nueva York civilians to email in if they spot anything worth reporting on. Normally it’s full of the usual dog fouling on pavements, inconsiderate parking in the residential streets and general noise complaints. But, one email catches your eye.

“Subject: Dead Rats”

Your brow furrows with confusion at the bizarre subject of the email. Out of curiosity, you click it and have a read.

“Dear Sir / Madam

During my regular work commute over the last few days, I’ve seen a significant number of dead rats in alleyways and subway stations. Obviously they’re pests and some might argue it is a good thing that they’re dropping dead, but I find it alarming. What’s killing them? Is it a deadly virus? Or some strange or troubled individual who takes pleasure and amusement in killing them?”

As you contemplate the email, you absentmindedly chew on the end of your pen. That is a strange occurrence, however you suspect your colleagues have ‘overlooked’ it because of the mention of rats. You’re not too keen on the creatures yourself, but it definitely beats writing about terrible parking for the umpteenth time. Hovering your mouse over the email, you assign it to yourself and then reply to the contact for more information.

Despite the rather grim nature of the job you have assigned yourself, you’re glad that you are out of the office. For a change of scenery, (and a chance to avoid your boss), you hop onto the subway to visit one of the places mentioned by the concerned member of the public.

As the train rattles its way through tunnels under the city, you find yourself surprised that the snaking carriages are relatively busy. You have to be in the office by eight AM and you realise this is the usual rush-hour commute for those who work nine-to-five.

The carriage you are in resembles something close to a tin of sardines, people packed closely together, sacrificing their personal space to get to work on time.

You cling to a pole stretching from floor to ceiling in the train while you’re sandwiched from all sides. This isn’t unusual, but what is, is the person behind you. They had approached as they got onto the train after you did, and have increasingly been pressed further and further against your back since. You hear them sniff occasionally, taking in long drags of air through their nose, to the point you feel your hair is being disturbed by it.

At first, you choose not to challenge it, but after the third time, you turn your head to look at the creepy culprit.

Your jaw drops.

Suddenly, all thoughts of their unusual and intrusive behaviour slips from your mind as you gaze up to a beautiful stranger. Piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, widening as the person behind you realises what it seems like they’re doing. A tall man with a young, pale face framed with long, raven black hair places a large hand over his heart.

“Apologies ma’am - crowds make me nervous and I was practising my breathing techniques to keep calm. I am sorry for causing you concern,” his voice is deep and sultry with warm tones that make you go weak at the knees.

A look of sympathy spreads across your face at his words of apology and you start to feel bad for nonverbally accusing him of sniffing you.

To avoid making the situation worse for the poor man, you give him a reassuring smile. “That’s okay. Do what you need to do. Don’t let me stop you.”

Now it’s your turn to risk looking like a creep as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him. You estimate him to be just over six-foot tall and well built; his defined muscles creating contours through the polo-neck sweater he’s wearing.

He smiles at you, noticing you’re still looking. “I feel a little better now. But, I thank you for being incredibly sweet and kind for understanding.”

Your heart sings at his words of praise while you are unable to suppress a wide smile in return. You find him undeniably mesmerising, as if you’re under his spell.

As you keep your eyes on him, an awkward silence descends on the cramped place you’re in. You are so enthralled that you forget you’re surrounded in every direction, until you feel the momentum of the train slow down as it approaches its next stop.

“Oh, this is me…” you say as you finally manage to tear your gaze from him, although your heart pounds, mourning the loss of such an attractive specimen for you to look at… That is until he replies.

“Me too, thankfully,” he begins as you more than willingly glue your eyes back onto him again. “The train is a little too busy for my liking.”

After the train comes to a stop, the doors draw open as you both shuffle and nudge your way through. Occasionally, you look back at the handsome man to check on him. A frown of concern forms across your face as you notice he looks overwhelmed. Linking your arm around his, you assist him through the final few people before breaking free and disembarking the train.

A deep sigh of relief comes from your new found friend as he wipes his brow. “Ahh, thank you. You have been most kind,” he pauses as he extends his large, soft, right hand towards yours. “I’m Michael, but you can call me Mike.”

Perhaps this day isn’t quite so bad after all. Work might suck, but meeting a handsome man on a train who seems to like you just as much as you like him is certainly a plus.

“Y/N; nice to meet you,” you reply as you reach out to take his hand to shake it. Before you touch him, something catches your eye.

A concerned-looking couple further down the platform flit from stranger to stranger, carrying a stack of paper each. As they turn to face the other way, you see they’re carrying multiple copies of the same picture, but you’re too far away to see what it is exactly.

Your fingers brush against Mike’s palm before they wrap underneath his hand. To your surprise, he feels cold, the unexpected sensation draws your attention back to him.

A contented smile spreads across his lips. “Sorry if I feel a little cold, I have a blood circulatory condition. Extremities don’t quite get enough blood flow to warm them up sometimes.”

For some inexplicable reason, you decide to try and warm his hand up by squeezing your fingers around his. Suddenly, his body jolts as he instinctively yanks his hand out of yours, air hissing between his clenched teeth.

“Oh!” you gasp slightly, feeling bad that you hurt him, although you don’t know how…

Mike wraps his other hand over the one that hurts. “It’s fine. It’s a paper cut. You just squeezed it, that’s all. You didn’t know,” he says with a reassuring smile, not wanting you to be upset about hurting him.

“Well, I’m sorry all the same,” you reply as you place a comforting hand on his arm.

“No need,” he lets go of his hand and places it over the back of yours.

Silence falls between the both of you again, lost in your shared bubble amongst rushing commuters. As your eyes search his in your brief moment of reflection, you consider who he is as a person. You have only known each other for five minutes, but on the surface he seems like a charming, handsome man who is sensitive, emotionally and physically, despite the tall frame and big, strong build.

The thought of having to go your separate ways saddens you. You want to spend more time with him and get to know him. “Hey, can we exchange numbers?”

Michael double-takes at you in surprise. “Oh, sure, of course,” he takes out his phone and prepares to enter your name and number. “I’ll text you later when I get home.”

As he slides his phone back into his pocket, he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you Y/N. I look forward to talking with you later,” his warm smile blesses you again.

“Yes, speak to you later,” you reply, sounding hopeful.

Finally, your new friend leaves you as he makes his way to a connecting platform. It seems he has somewhere else in the city to go to.

As your mind defogs from its dreamy state, you remember the two people from earlier handing out pictures. Looking around, you can’t seem to find them, but you notice a piece of paper taped to an underground support column. Depicted on the sheet of A4, is a young man, no older than sixteen, dark skin, brown eyes and curly, black hair. Written underneath in big, red, bold letters: ‘Missing - Miles Morales’. In smaller print are a couple of numbers to call if somebody spots him.

You frown with sympathy. That couple could well have been the missing boy's parents, worried sick about their son. Poor Miles seems to be another person added to the list of recent missing teenagers…

Using your phone, you take a picture of the notice to keep with you - just in case.

As you suspected, the subway station is devoid of dead rats. You imagine public services would dispose of their little corpses before too many people start asking questions.

You reach the surface after climbing the steps from the subway; the cool, fresh, autumnal air rushing against your face. Pulling your light coat tighter around you, you begin your investigations by walking down a street and examining each alleyway closely.

Each alley you have visited so far has been fruitless - or rat-less - and disappointing. A sneaking suspicion fills your mind that this is someone’s idea of a prank to send someone on a wild goose chase. Well, the joke’s on them, because you’ve just got a cute guy’s number that you otherwise wouldn’t have obtained if you hadn’t left the office. A smirk flits across your face as you think about Michael.

Up ahead, something catches your eye, bursting your dreamy bubble. A pest control van is parked further down the street. You see the driver getting out of the vehicle and entering the next alleyway. Quickening your walking pace, you make your way towards the pest control man.

Stepping around the corner, you see him kneeling down next to a couple of dead rats. He pauses as he looks up at you, eyeing you up and down.

Extending him your hand, you begin to introduce yourself. “Y/N, from the Daily Bugle. Would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about the dead rats you’re finding?”

His eyes flit to your extended hand, but he doesn’t take it. “I’d shake it but I’ve been handlin’ dead rodents all mornin’, but sure lady, fire away,” he replies as he picks up the first rat and examines it.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone and open up your voice notes app.

“Has every rat you’ve found today died the same way?” you ask as you hold the phone close to your mouth, before moving it towards the pest control man.

Observing the rat in his hand, he checks its body before looking back at you and nods. “Yeah, two puncture marks, probably about an inch in width on every one,” he then picks up the second rat and nods again. “Yep, this one too.”

Puncture marks… you think to yourself for a second. “Like, stab wounds?”

The man shakes his head. “Like teeth, canine teeth perhaps?” he offers.

You would go look for yourself, but you’d rather not get too close to dead things, especially rats... “Perhaps a cat?”

He shakes his head again. “Too wide.”

Your shoulders slump as you frown at the confusion. Something’s biting them, but it’s bigger than a cat. It seems unlikely that a dog would be doing it, but you suppose there’s still a chance…

“Can you tell me anything more about the rats? Is there anything else you’ve noticed about them?”

The pest control man starts to put them in a box, to your greatest discomfort, it seems to be already occupied with several other dead animals. “Yeah, they ain’t juicy.”

You raise a questioning brow at his comment. “Juicy?”

Picking up the box, he stands again, causing you to step back and give him a wide berth. “No blood,” he answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“They’re… exsanguinated?” you murmur in surprise, now that is something significant. A cat wouldn’t drain it of its blood…

“What?” he asks as he stuffs the box in the back of his van. “Listen lady, there’s a reason you’re in your job and I’m in mine. Big words ain’t my thing. Do you need to know anythin’ else, or can I go?”

There’s a pause as you think for a second. “Yeah, one last thing. Is it just this part of Nueva York, or are the rat deaths more widespread?”

The two doors at the back of his van close with a clunk before he turns to look at you again. “This place and surroundin’ areas, but not all over the city - thank the Lord,” he answers, sounding tired.

“Okay, thank you,” you reply as you switch off your voice notes on your phone and look around trying to think what to do next. Something strange is going on and now your interest is piqued.

The pest control van drives away, no doubt on its way to look for more dead rats.

What you need now is perhaps something that will show what happened. CCTV from local businesses might help, and luckily for you, a nightclub just across the street might have a camera in the perfect position to see into the alleyway where the two rats met their demise.

Looking at your phone you see that it has just gone nine AM and wonder if anyone might be inside the establishment.

Crossing the road, you approach the nightclub called Las Sombras, its name printed in white text on a black board above the glass double doors. Looking inside all the regular lighting is switched on while you spot someone pottering around at the back.

Your rapping on the glass catches the attention of the short woman inside. Looking rather bemused, she comes to the nightclub’s entrance to unlock the doors and open them.

“Can I help you?” the woman asks as she pokes her head out.

“I work for the Daily Bugle, and I’d like to ask nearby businesses some questions about certain events that have taken place around here recently,” you begin as you put on a friendly face, looking slightly amused with her fashion choices.

The woman with the light-brown styled bob raises a quizzical eyebrow behind her pink, heart-shaped glasses. “What events?” she asks, although she looks approachable, there was an air of suspicion or caution to her voice.

You shiver as a cold breeze washes over you. “I know you’re closed but, can I come in?” you ask, pulling your coat around you a little tighter.

The nightclub employee opens the door wider to allow you in, but closes it behind you again and locks it to stop anyone else from entering.

Warmth blankets you as you step into the building, a nice relief from the elements outside.

“Are you the owner of this nightclub?” you ask, sounding intrigued as you look around. The furnishings were sleek, black and modern. Large, black, electric candelabras hang from the ceiling, giving a slight gothic atmosphere to the establishment. Above the bar was another black board and the bar’s name lit up in LEDs.

“Part owner,” she answers before extending her hand to you. “I’m Lyla.”

Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself to her. “You have a partnership in owning this place? Where’s the other owner?”

Lyla smiles at your question. “He won’t be around for a while yet. I tend to do a lot of the admin stuff, taking stock of drinks and doing payroll, while he does the more supervisory stuff when the club is open.”

You nod in understanding before looking at the name above the bar. “Las Sombras… Spanish for the Shadows?”

“Yep, sure is. My business partner chose the name.”

“Moody name,” you comment.

“He’s a moody guy.”

A smirk grows across your face. There’s something about Lyla that you really like. You imagine that she’s a rather fun person to be around.

“So, are you going to continue asking about the club, or ask about what you’re actually here for?” Lyla asks as she rests her hands on her hips, her silk, white blouse shimmers in the light from above.

“Oh, yes…” you begin as you slip your phone out of your pocket again, opening the voice notes app, but you don’t press the record button yet. “Have you noticed anything strange or odd going on here or in the surrounding areas of the city?”

Lyla looks at you blankly - clearly your question hasn’t rung any bells. “Nope. What sort of things have been happening?” she asks in return.

“You haven’t seen an increase in rats, particularly dead ones littering alleyways?”

She shakes her head and gives a shrug. “I’ve not noticed anything.”

Regardless of you liking her, you sense she’s not being entirely truthful. “The nightclub has a CCTV camera that overlooks an alley where two rats died under unusual circumstances, could I take a look at the security footage?”

Lyla chuckles slightly at your question. “What is this, CSI: Rodentville?” she asks as she reaches into her pocket for a set of keys. “Come through to the back and we can take a look.”

The gothic theme seems to diminish the moment you step through the door behind the bar. Keys jangle as Lyla unlocks a glossy white door, revealing a small room mostly filled with a desk equipped with a CCTV monitoring system. Plonking herself down on the chair, Lyla wriggles the mouse on the computer to wake it up while you stand right behind her. “Any idea what time last night your precious rats shuffled off this mortal coil?”

Giving a shrug, you answer: “Dunno, I guess it’ll be when the street is quiet? What time does the nightclub close?”

“Around two AM,” Lyla replies as she enters a time into the software. Footage rewinds from live feed, into the past. People walk backwards at top speed, you even see yourself reversing across the road, back towards the alleyway briefly before it finally stops at the specified time window. Pressing play, both you and Lyla watch the footage intently, leaning in closer to try and spot any minor bit of detail that could end up becoming significant.

To start with, nothing out of the ordinary happens, cars pass down the dark street early in the morning, people amble along the sidewalk, behaving normally. Lyla skips the time ahead slightly, not much has changed, except a discarded paper bag blown by the autumnal wind tumbling across the road.

Another skip forward in time reveals something far more interesting. A young man, who looks lost and distressed, retreating into the alleyway opposite the nightclub. Both you and Lyla lean in even closer to see what the person was up to.

As he looks around, checking his surroundings for his security, you recognise his face. Unlocking your phone you go straight to the last photo you took. “M-Miles Morales?” you splutter in shock, pointing at the screen.

“You know the kid?” Lyla asks, looking up at you.

“He’s missing,” you answer, showing the nightclub owner the picture on your phone before looking back up at the CCTV footage. You continue to watch intently as the boy settles down on the cold, concrete slab, hugging his knees to his chest.

“And the rats were found there?” Lyla inquires as she too retrains her focus back on the screen.

“Yep, in the exact same alleyway…” your brows furrow as you notice Miles looking further into his hiding place as if something has got his attention, but before you see him do anything else, the screen goes black and the machine falls silent.

“Well, shit!” Lyla exclaims in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. “Damn thing’s been doing this for ages.”

Feeling as though the answers to your questions have slipped from your grasping fingers, your breath falters, the harsh pang of disappointment winding you slightly. “Can’t you bring it back?” your eye twitches with irritation as you work hard on masking it.

Lyla frowns and sighs. “Unfortunately, after a system shut-down, expected or not, all footage is lost and starts recording again from fresh,” she watches your shoulders slump at that revelation. “I know. It sucks - I’m sorry. My business partner hasn’t got round to fixing the issue with it yet.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose slightly, you take a deep breath. At least you have seen the missing kid, that should count for something. You take note of the number in the picture and begin to dial it.

“W-wait, what are you doing?” the nightclub owner asks, her voice shaking slightly.

As you dial the number, you briefly look up at Lyla, “Calling the number on the missing person’s poster,” you answer before looking back down again and pressing the dial button. “Tell them I’ve seen Miles in this area,” you finish as you hold the phone up to your ear and wander out of the room, leaving Lyla on her own.

With no more answers available for your mounting questions, you leave Las Sombras after notifying the police about seeing Miles on the CCTV footage. Feeling as though you have achieved something good, you return to the office with a story developing in your mind, something to write about and a mystery for you to investigate further in the coming days.

After writing an article for the Daily Bugle, you feel you have accomplished even more than giving much needed hope to the parents missing their son, Miles. You cast your eye over your work before you submit it to your formidable boss.

“Pest Control Gone Too Far?

It has been brought to my attention by a concerned member of the public that there has been a sharp increase of rat deaths in Nueva York. Now, some of you might be thrilled at the idea that there are fewer rodents to worry about in the city, however, shouldn’t we ask ourselves why this is happening?

When I first heard that rats were simply dropping dead around the city, my first worry was a potential plague that could affect more than just the city’s rodent population.

Upon my investigations today, I met with an employee from pest control who has been cleaning up the mess as a result of the rising number of deaths, and he has provided some interesting insight.

Each rat that has been found and collected has suffered the same cause of death; two puncture wounds as if bitten, and their blood drained from their small bodies.

Is there a blood-thirsty beast roaming the dark streets of Nueva York who has developed an unquenchable thirst for rats? Or is this someone’s idea of a sick joke?”

Feeling happy with your work, you hit send on your email and wait for your boss’s approval.

After getting Las Sombras’s CCTV recording software back online, and completing several tasks like cleaning and staff payroll, Lyla pulls out her phone, biting her lip with concern.

Her thumb hovers with hesitation over a contact on her phone screen, simply labelled ‘M’. Finally, she gives an exasperated sigh, presses on the number and waits for the call to connect. Several rings fill the air as she puts the phone on loud-speaker and leans against the bar.

A click indicates the call has been answered and a gravelly, deep voice speaks. “What? Couldn’t this have waited until later?”

“No it couldn’t,” Lyla begins, “we’ve got a problem.”

“And what problem is that?” the male’s voice on the other end sounds irritated.

“We’ve got some woman sniffing around asking about dead rats-”

“Dead rats?” the man interjects, “you disturbed me for dead rats?”

“No - but a missing kid is draining the vermin of their blood,” the line goes silent for a moment after Lyla speaks. “The bigger problem is, the woman saw the kid on the CCTV footage when she asked to check it. She wanted to learn more about the damned rats. She recognised him and reported him to the police that he’s in this neck of the woods…”

“Shit!” the male voice exclaims before taking a deep breath. “Why was she poking her nose around our place anyway?” he eventually asks with a tone of simmering annoyance.

“She works for the Daily Bugle-”

“Fuck sake, Lyla!,” he pauses for a second, “please tell me, she didn’t see the kid feast on the rodent…” he growls in a threatening tone.

“No, she didn’t. I subtly kicked the power cable out of the back of the machine before she saw anything…” a sigh of relief came from his end of the line.

“Well - that’s something at least. But guess what? You’re covering for me tonight while I now have to fetch the kid before the police find him…”

“I can do that,” Lyla responds as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Did you at least catch the kid’s name?”

“Miles - Miles Morales. His face is all over the news and on missing posters around the city.”

“Good, send me his picture and I’ll go looking for him at sundown.”

“Sure, I’ll do that after the call.”

“Oh, and if that nosey woman comes back. Get rid of her.”

Lyla sighs at her business partner’s words. “Understood…”

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