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#makeup tray
rileyjanehomedecor · 2 years
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silk-swan · 4 months
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𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 🪄
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notaparagraph · 11 months
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My new hobby apparently is buying little trays (<$10) to organize all of my little things. I’ll take a photo later.
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strixessabre · 1 year
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Divine is God~ 
( Strixes’ Sabre )
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vvitch--please · 2 years
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.
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courtingchaos · 2 months
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morningbabe-x · 11 months
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Thumper dish
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yuwuta · 4 months
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AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY
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❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind  
featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu
content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader
word count. 2.8k
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SATORU GOJO You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he’d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”
He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.
“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”
Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?
You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”
You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”
You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:
from: satoruwu 🫧🩵 — only the best for my baby <33
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TOGE INUMAKI
Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.” 
He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.
Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”
“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”
A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?
“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”
“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.
Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.” 
Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.” 
He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.” 
He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).
However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”
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KENTO NANAMI Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.
Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.
Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.
Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”
“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”
Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”
There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate. 
When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself. 
Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.
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YUUTA OKKOTSU Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.
Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.
You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”
Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”
“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”
Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.
So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.
You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”
It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.
Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.
“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”
You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.
“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”
(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)
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t-shirtshare · 1 year
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Dark Makeup Corner
Dark Makeup Corner A thread ⬇️
All kinds of cosmetics are very sweetly colorful, so they look good on a dark gray monochrome background.
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fullsunstrawberry · 4 months
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Love Beyond Labels
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synopsis: the misunderstood "rich girl," reveals her academic struggles to a loner with his own challenges. In an unexpected twist, they form a unique friendship—she gets study help, and he gains a true companion.
genre: slice of life, humor, fluff, angst, smut, freaky nerd
warnings**: bullying, swearing, self-hate, mentions of anxiety, jokes of social "suicide", dreamies are kinda mean in this..., no condom mentioned, praising, fingering, marking, lots of boobie touching cause haechan loves them okay, make-up sex, idk probably more lol
word count: 8.9k
a/n: first ever written fanfic....kinda nervous haha
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School is easy, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Well, that's what all your classmates thought. They didn't know how difficult school was for you. You never got what was happening in class. Anytime you got an answer wrong, no one batted an eye because who expects the rich pretty girl to get an answer right? But little did they know you would cry in the janitor's room after each time. You just hated feeling so dumb.
"Ugh, I'm not ready for today's test," Jaemin huffed, plopping down beside you.
"Wait, there's a test?" you sighed, already predicting the outcome.
Mr. Moon whispered a half-hearted "good luck" as he handed you the test, before moving on and finishing handing out everyone else’s tests. He already knew how it was going to go.
You hated how even the teachers knew you were stupid.
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After the test, you already knew you failed it. You were the last one to turn your test in, when Jaemin asked if you wanted to meet up with him, Jeno, Mark, and Chenle for lunch. You nodded telling him you had to stop at the office real quick.
Instead of walking towards the office, you sped walked to the janitor's closet, already feeling the tears threaten to escape. You knew you failed that test. Even though you acted like you didn’t know you had a test, you lied. You’ve been studying for it for a long time. Even canceling plans. But you would never admit it to anyone. You studied your ass off but still failed, that’s even more pathetic than forgetting about it.
You quickly took out the keys and opened the door quickly so no other student would see it. You thank the janitor for being so forgetful that you could easily steal one of his keys. He has a bunch of copies, one missing wouldn’t hurt. Right as you locked the door you sat in the corner, not even bothering to turn the lights on.
you were always an ugly crier, but it was okay cause you bought the most expensive waterproof makeup for these occasions. Only a quick bathroom stop is needed before meeting your friends for lunch.
As you were drying your tears you heard the door jiggle and then open. you quickly hid your face just in case it was someone you knew.
"Y/N?" a voice you didn't recognize spoke, interrupting your quiet moment in the janitor's closet.
Confused, you wiped your face and looked up at the mystery voice. You kind of recognized the thick black glasses boy in front of you. You knew he was in some of your classes but you couldn’t think of his name.
Fearing the worst you cleared your throat before asking “What do you want?”
“Uh, I don't want anything!" the boy replied, swiftly stepping into the room and closing the door. You noticed he had his lunch tray with him. "This might sound pathetic, but I like to eat my lunch here."
confused, you asked him “Why would you do that?”
“Well I don’t really have friends and I don’t want to get picked on” he explained sitting down next to you, not having much of a choice because there wasn’t that much room.
"Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go," you said, preparing to stand up. But before you could, he quickly called out your name, making you look down at him.
"You're not bothering me! You can stay and talk about what's going on. I know we don't talk, but I can listen to you." His hopeful eyes convinced you to sit back down. You quickly wiped away your tears before confiding in him.
“You can’t tell anyone this!“ You put your pinky finger up and put it near him. “promise?”
“I don’t have many people to tell” he let out a small laugh while putting his hands up defensively. “promise!” he took your pinky finger in his
“okay” you nodded “I failed my psychology test today”
you looked at his face and he looked confused “What?” you questioned
“Oh it's just, you always fail your tests. Everyone knows that”
As he said that you felt the tears start to come back. Of course, he wouldn’t get it. Why did you ever think he would get it?
“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry” he panicked “I shouldn’t have said that!”
you turn away, quickly wiping away your tears again. “no I get it, I’m the dumb girl”
"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. Hey, want to hear something embarrassing about me? I'm only here because of a scholarship. That's why no one wants to be friends with me!" he confessed.
you start to giggle “That’s not embarrassing!”
“It made you laugh! But here is something actually embarrassing, my teacher forgot my name today. Even though I've had her for the whole year.”
Your eyes widen, feeling bad that you forgot his name.
“ahh you don’t know my name either”
you smile “If you tell me your name, I’ll forgive you”
“haechan”
“That's a nice name, haechan” You smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue. 
“thank you, I have a proposition or a proposal”
“I know what proposition means” you teased
he giggled, “I’ll help you study”
your eyes lit up, “really? What can I do for you?”
he avoided your eyes and cleared his throat “Be my friend”
your eyes softened “That’s not hard, I was going to be your friend after this conversation anyways” You pushed his shoulder.
He finally met your eyes and smiled at you. “then you don’t have to do anything, friends help friends”
As the bell faintly rang, you pulled out your phone. "Here, give me your number so we can talk."
he paused for a second before taking your phone
standing up and thanking him before you quickly left to go touch up your makeup in the bathroom. Reminding yourself you would have to tell Jaemin you were sorry for ditching him and the guys.
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You walked into your next class as the late bell rang. 
“there you are! Jaemin told me you ditched us” Mark laughed. 
“I didn't mean to ditch you guys, just got carried away.” 
“carried away, with what?” 
“I was working on my psychology essay, and I can't believe she makes us write one every week!” you huffed out, setting your bag down before sitting down. 
“Could have just said you were talking to guys instead of lying.” Mark laughed, too interested in whatever was on his phone to notice your face drop. What did your friends think of you? 
“What do you mean?” 
Mark glanced at you before laughing, “You always procrastinate, there is no way you even started it!” 
Instead of arguing you turned to face the front, pulling out your notebook. The essay is due in two days, of course, you started it. There would be no way for you to finish the four pages if you didn't. Turning towards Mark again you huffed out, “Well someone is helping me study.”
Shocked, Mark quickly faced towards you “What? What happened to y/n?” 
You scoffed, “Really? That surprising”
“I am, you never really cared for grades”
“Well I'm sick of failing every test” 
“So who's helping you out?” Mark leaned towards you “Could have just asked me”
“His name is Haechan”
Mark’s eyebrows furrowed “That one kid that eats in the bathroom?”
“He doesn't eat in the bathroom!” You defended 
“Just be careful, he’s a little weird” 
“What do you mean, you don’t even know him” You started to get upset.
“He doesn't really talk to anyone”  He could see how your face scrunched up and you were about to start an argument with him so he shrugged, not really caring “Why didn't you ask me, I'm one of the top students”
You didn't really want to explain what happened so you just blew his question off. Before he could press you for an answer, the teacher walked in. 
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Haechannie🤓🐻: When do you want to start?
Y/N☺️: I have my psychology paper due soon. Could you read it over before I turn it in?
Haechannie🤓🐻: Yeah meet me at the public library after school 
Y/N☺️: Thanks!
Haechannie🤓🐻: No problem :)
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Jaemin and Jeno are probably thinking you're going crazy when you tell them you didn't need a ride after school. But you didn't want them to drop you off at the library and question you the same way Mark did in class. So you just said you were meeting up with a girlfriend of yours who wanted to walk to the park. At the mention of a girl, they didn’t question anything. 
Now that's how you ended up looking around the library for Haechan. He wasn't on the first or second floor, so you started making your way up to the third floor. Questioning why he even would go all the way up there, no one liked the third floor. As you looked around you spotted Haechan sitting at a table in the corner. 
As he heard you coming, he looked up and smiled. “Took you long enough!”
“Who even uses the third floor of the library, all the books up here are just textbooks.” You huffed out, setting your bag down and taking out everything you needed. 
“That’s the whole point! It’s quiet up here” 
You can admit, that he has a point! Maybe you will actually start using the third floor more. As if you ever go to the public library without your friends dragging you there. Liking your room for studying a lot more because there are no judging eyes. 
“Okay, let’s get started! Let me see what you have already” Haechan smiled at you. 
You pulled out your notebook and quickly found the page you started to write on before handing it to Haechan. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed, which made Haechan pull away quickly. 
You watched as his eyes read through everything you wrote. Anxiety started to fill you up. What if it was really bad and he thinks you're even more of an idiot than before? Ugh, he’s a nice guy, he wouldn't think like that. But you don’t really know him— Before your inner monologue continues Haechan put down your notebook. Shock showed in his eyes. 
“Wow, that was really good! The way you described Sensation and Perception was easy to understand. How do you usually fail with papers like this?”
Shocked that he actually liked your paper it took you a couple of seconds to register his question. “I usually get good grades on my papers and in-class work, but tests always seem to get to me.” 
“mmm, I understand,” Haechan hummed. “A lot of people have test anxiety, I have some tips I can give you if you want” 
Your eyes lit up as you nodded, eager to hear what he had to say. 
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“It’s getting quite late, maybe we should start wrapping this up?” Haechan yawned. 
You quickly looked at the time, not believing him that it was so late. You gasped, shocked at how quickly time passed with Haechan. “Oh, I better get going, before my mom starts to ask questions.” 
“Yeah, I have to get going too. It was nice hanging out with you.” Haechan quickly gathered up all his things before moving to leave. 
“Wait!” 
Haechan paused looking at you confused. 
“What are you doing tomorrow after class?” 
“Nothing, until I have to go in for work” Haechan sighed “I don’t want to study again tomorrow”
A little taken aback by the change in his tone, you quickly cleared things up “That’s not what I was going to ask you! I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out, like at the mall or something”
you couldn't quite read the emotion on Haechan’s face. Was he shocked? Happy? Confused? Maybe a little bit of each. 
“Oh um yeah, we can hang out.” 
“Good, I’ll text you the details” You smiled before turning away and leaving him to stand there not knowing what was going on in his head. 
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The final bell rang as you rushed out to find Haechan. Earlier promising that you both would take the bus to the mall together. 
Your eyes lit up seeing him standing at the bus stop, calling out a quick “Haechan” to get his attention. Which seemed to work as he found you in the crowd of other students. 
As you finally pushed through all the people to get to Haechan, your face dropped. He wasn't looking at you anymore. “What’s wrong?” 
“You don’t want to be caught hanging out with me, it will ruin your reputation.” He whispered 
Taken aback you laughed, which turned into a heavier laugher. Shocked and confused by your reaction, Haechan turned towards you, watching you laugh like you were crazy. “I’m not joking! Hanging out with me in public is literally social suicide”
You took a couple of deep breaths before answering him “Haechan, this isn't some teen drama! Who even cares about that” 
Haechan looked embarrassed by this and started to fiddle with his fingers. You saw the bus starting to pull up so you took hold of his hand. Stopping him from fiddling with them and making sure you didn't lose him to the crowd of people waiting for the bus. 
If you were paying more attention, you would have seen how bright his cheeks turned. Before quickly snapping out of it. 
As you got onto the bus, you noticed how full it was. Only noticed one seat in the back. quickly you pulled him towards the back and offered him the seat. 
Shaking his head, he told you to sit down. But you insisted that you were okay with standing. Looking around you noticed the other people starting to get annoyed, even hearing an older lady saying she hates teenage couples. 
Before he could protest, you pushed him down onto the seat and sat on his knee. “Are you happy now? It’s a win-win situation, we both get to sit now” You smiled. 
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The whole ride there was silent. Maybe the stunt you pulled on the bus was a little too much for him to handle. 
But you didn't let that stop you from grabbing his hand when the bus finally arrived at the mall. Excitedly telling Haechan about all your favorite stores and sales that are going on right now. 
He didn't seem to care when you kept dragging him to different clothing and makeup stores. It wasn't until you noticed how uncomfortable he was did you realized how rude you were being. 
“Oh shit sorry, where do you want to go next?”
 Taken back by this Haechan quickly tried to brush it off “No it’s okay, where do you want to go next?” Not letting him dodge the question you push him for an answer. “No, come on, let's go somewhere you like next!”
“Uh I like Gamestop” 
“Then we are off to Gamestop, I know where it is because it’s next to my favorite shoe store!” 
Haechan’s eyes lit up when he saw the new Lord of the Fallen had been released. “Cool! I’ve been waiting for this to come out” But as quickly as he picked it up he put it down. 
“You're not going to get it?” You questioned
“Oh no, it’s too much money” He turned to look at other things, leaving you the opportunity to grab and pay for the game without him knowing. 
Finding him in the back, you asked if he was finished looking around. Which earned you a nod. As you stepped out of the store, you held up the bag. “What did you get?” Haechan asked, confused. 
“It’s for you” You giggled handing him the bag. 
He hesitated before looking in the bag and gasping “Y/n, this is $80!” 
“That’s nothing! I love buying my friends things that I know they will like” You smiled, hooking your arm with his. “Now I'm hungry, let's go eat.” 
The food court wasn't your first choice, but haechan insisted. Arguing that he knew you were going to try to pay for his food if you went to some fancy restaurant. Which he is right, you would have. But you settled for paying for his Taco Bell instead. 
“Let's go near the carousel I love the view and plus not a lot of people sit over there”
Haechan nodded, letting you show the way. 
Everything was going very smooth. You wanted to do this again and again. But as you were in your own world you heard voices call out “Hyuck”. Haechan's eyes widened and looked around. 
Two boys, one tall and one short, sat down near you guys. 
“Long time no see, we missed you!” The taller one said either not knowing or not caring about your presence. 
The shorter one cleared his throat before asking Haechan “So are you going to introduce us” 
Haechan laughed nervously before looking at you, pointing to the shorter one “This is Huang Renjun” and then pointing to the taller one who seem to now noticed you were there “And this is Park Jisung” 
Before Haechan could speak you smiled “I'm F/N L/N!” 
Haechan winced at your mentioning your last name. You looked at the other guys and their faces dropped. Confused, you asked “what's wrong?” 
Haechan quickly cleared his throat and explained “It’s nothing! We used to know someone with that last name and so they're just surprised.” 
The two boys looked confused before nodding “Sorry, just bad memories” Renjun forced a smile before getting up and announcing “Oh we’re gonna be late for our movie, let’s go Jisung” 
They left before you could even get in another word. Noticing your shock, Haechan shakes his head “Those are my friends from my childhood, we haven't talked in a while because we go to different schools now.” 
Not wanting to push you just hummed.
Something felt weird but you didn't want to bring it up. Today has been one of your favorites and you didn't want to sour the mood by letting Haechan know his friends acted a bit rude. 
So the whole time you didn't bring it up, instead going back to your cheery self. After a few more stores, you both decided that was enough for today and Haechan really needed to get home so he could get enough sleep before having to go to his part-time job. 
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Soon days, weeks, and months flew by. Hanging out with Haechan really made things go by so quickly. You liked his company. So did your teachers, complimenting you on passing all your tests. One even accused you of cheating, but Haechan stepped in and confessed he had been helping you study.
Even your parents seemed to notice the change in your mood. Your mother loves getting her cheerful daughter back. The only people who seemed to hate the “new and improved y/n” were your best friends. It started with Jaemin accusing you of sleeping with Mr. Moon because he swore there’s no way you could have gotten scored higher on your test then him. Obviously, you were pissed that he could even suggest something like that.
So you ended up admitting to your not-so-secret tutoring sessions to your friends one day at lunch.
“So that's where you've been during lunch?” Chenle questioned. 
“Yes, we’ve been eating in the library together” 
“So you’ve been ditching us for that nerd this whole time!” Jeno’s voice raised, causing some of the other students in the cafeteria to look at your table. 
“Don’t call him a nerd!” 
“But he is one!” Jeno threw his hands up in the air. 
“Just because he gets good grades? Then why don’t you call Mark or Jaemin a nerd?”
“Y/N Come on, why are you defending him? He’s just some loser who eats in the bathroom when you're not at school” Chenle laughed, trying to get everyone to calm down. 
Taken back by how rude your best friends were, you looked around and made eye contact with Haechan. 
He was supposed to meet your friends today. He was really excited after you hyped all of them up. But as he was walking to your table, you could tell that he heard everything. 
You saw how his eyes were starting to water. 
“Maybe he is a nerd but he is way hotter than all of you! Bet he can actually get me to cum unlike any of you” You smirked knowing this would get on their nerves. Hitting it where it hurt, their egos. 
You heard Jaemin scuff, “Yeah right, we all know your type! You wouldn't even kiss him” 
Taking the challenge, you looked around and spotted Haechan again. But this time his face was red and his eyes were wide. You smirked, “wanna bet?” 
The tension in the cafeteria was thick after your bold statement, and all eyes seemed to be on the unfolding drama. Your best friends wore expressions of disbelief mixed with irritation. You made your way over to Haechan.
Haechan's eyes showed surprise, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You could feel the weight of the challenge in the air as you took a hold of his sweater collar, the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed whispers and curious glances, but your focus was solely on him.
Pulling him down gently, your lips hovered near Haechan's ear, and you breathed out a teasing question. "Can I?" The words were soft, carrying a hint of playfulness.
In response, Haechan nodded fervently, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Please," he whispered back, his voice barely audible.
With a mischievous smirk, you seized the moment, closing the distance between your lips and Haechan lips. Time seemed to slow as the cafeteria fell into a stunned silence, and then erupted into a mix of gasps, whispers, and scattered applause. The unexpected turn of events had caught everyone off guard, including your best friends, who now wore expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.
Breaking the kiss, you stepped back. You saw how Haechan went to lean back in again. Quickly placing a short kiss to his lips you whispered “everyone watching us” His eyes widened and looked around the cafeteria. Making you giggle and whisper a hushed “Cute”
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After your little stunt in the cafeteria, everyone’s been asking you who that guy was and if you two are dating. You already knew poor Haechan was getting the same questions. 
Y/N😊❤️: People keep asking me if you’re a good kisser
Haechannie🤓🐻: Well am I?
Y/N😊❤️: Absolutely
Y/N😊❤️: What are you doing after school?
Haechannie🤓🐻: Working and then going home
Y/N😊❤️: When do you get off? Want to hang out with you
Haechannie🤓🐻: 9 pm, at the convenience store on the other side of town
Haechannie🤓🐻: we can hang out only if you promise to kiss me again
Y/N😊❤️: we’ll see ;)
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The convenience store was a far walk from your house so you asked your friend Yuna to drive you. But that didn’t stop your parents from scolding you for going out so late. All you had to say was that you were staying over at Yuna’s house. Yuna is your mom's best friend's daughter. She had no problem with this because last summer you had to do the same thing for her. 
There was only a few people at the convenience store. You saw Haechan slumped over at the counter scrolling through his phone. “Aren’t you supposed to be working”
Haechan jumped up from his sitting position, ready to be scolded by his manager. But when his eyes landed on you he shook his head “Ah you scared me! I still have 10 minutes until closing” 
“I wanted to get here early, I heard there is a cute cashier boy here” you smirked
You can already see Haechan’s face start to become a light shade of red. 
“Stop flirting with me, I'm working!” 
Before you could say a comeback, an older guy put down his stuff on the register. 
“She’s just trying to get free stuff” The random guy scoffed
Taken aback you scoff, tilting your head “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re too pretty for him”
You looked at Haechan and saw his head lower. 
Looking back at the guy you laugh “Nerdy guys are the freakiest” you winked
Haechan’s eyes widened, not being able to make eye contact with anyone. 
“All girls are the same” The guy harshly stated before throwing ten dollars on the counter and leaving. 
“How do you know I’m freaky?” Haechan busted out laughing. 
“I don’t but guys hate when their masculinity is threatened” You shrug.
“So what do you want to do after I close” 
“I don’t know, I told my parents I was staying over with a friend tonight. So I’m all yours”
“All mine? I like the sound of that” Haechan smirked leaning in “I live alone”
You gasp “How do you live alone?” 
“It’s a small place, I don’t have a relationship with my parents anymore” Haechan grabbed the keys to close the shop. “It’s not too far from here, only a five-minute walk” 
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Entering Haechan's apartment, the reality of his living space matched his earlier description. It kind of reminded you of a college dorm. Only a small living area with his bed and a tiny hallway that leads to his bathroom. 
As you took in the surroundings, Haechan couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "I told you it was small," he remarked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It's not the fanciest part of town, but it's affordable."
"It's nice!" you assured him, a genuine smile gracing your face.
Haechan, skeptical, teased, "You don't have to lie to me."
Your laughter filled the room. "I'm not lying! I was expecting much worse for a guy living alone." Your lighthearted comment elicited a chuckle from Haechan, getting rid of any lingering tension.
Looking around the compact space, you ask, "So, what do you want to do?"
"I was promised a kiss," Haechan said with a mischievous smirk.
Your laughter continued, but before you could respond, you felt his hand gently cup your face, pulling you into a kiss. This wasn't like the previous one in the cafeteria; it was more intense, and filled with passion.
As the kiss deepened, Haechan guided you backward until the back of your knees met his bed, causing you to gently fall onto it. Yet, he didn't break the kiss, instead, he adjusted his position to hover over you. Placing his knee between your legs, he elicited a soft moan from you. The sound only fueled Haechan's desire, and he broke the kiss momentarily, his gaze locking onto yours.
"You sound so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes fulled with desire. His fingers delicately traced the curve of your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations.
The air was charged with a blend of desire and anticipation as Haechan, deepening the kiss and found a comfortable position on top of you.
His hands, warm and assertive, traced subtle patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine. The small apartment seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you entangled in the intoxicating rhythm of the kiss.
As the kiss continued to deepen, Haechan's movements became more deliberate. He pressed himself against you, and the warmth of his body radiated through the layers of clothing, intensifying the sensations.
The noisy world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the echo of shared breaths and the subtle noise of hearts beating together.
Breaking away from the kiss, Haechan's eyes held an unspoken question, seeking affirmation in the depths of your gaze. Without uttering a word, you nodded, granting permission.
Haechan's lips traced a path from your mouth, leaving a trail of lingering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. Each touch sent shivers through your body, awakening a heightened awareness of the closeness between you.
As Haechan's fingers delicately traced patterns on your skin, he whispered “God I can’t get enough of you”. 
“I need you inside of me right now” You moaned as he started to take your shirt off.
Your words seemed to ignite something in Haechan, his eyes darkening with desire. He gently removed your shirt, his touch making your skin tingle.
You felt Haechan’s warm breath against your skin as he buried his face in your breasts. The sensation of his lips approaching your skin caused you to gasp, and the sound fueled his desire. As his lips made contact with your nipple, you felt a wave of pleasure run through you.
“God, Haechan”
His lips found yours once again. The pleasure of his lips on yours left you intoxicated.The feeling of the soft sheets against your bare skin and the warmth of Haechan’s body made you feel safe, yet vulnerable. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his lips take your nipple in his mouth yet again, and the pleasure and excitement was overwhelming. The intensity of the sensations had left you without words, and you felt yourself wanting to scream with pleasure.
“G-God”
The moan that escaped from your lips seemed to ignite something in Haechan, and he moved his mouth to your other breast, leaving a trail of hot kisses. Each one caused you to gasp with pleasure and your hands explored the his back from under his shirt. The pleasure and excitement was too much, and you needed him inside you, but he kept teasing you in different ways.
When he finally moved to kiss you again, his hands gently moved down your body to rest on your waist. He seemed to be asking if it was okay to continue, and you nodded, silent. His hands moved to take off your pants, and you felt your heart start to race. 
His touch was gentle and soft, and his lips were warm against your skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against you. The feeling of his skin against yours was intoxicating. As his hands kept tracing patterns across your skin. As his lips reached your thighs, you moaned with pleasure, begging for more
"Please..." you moaned, "I need you inside me."
Haechan looked up and gave you a mischievous grin, and his body tensed for a moment before he moved to undress himself. His movements left you breathless, and you stared at him as he removed his pants. The light of the room glinted off of his skin, and you felt your body start to quiver with anticipation.
His eyes seemed to penetrate you as he looked at you, as if he could see things you didn't want anyone to know about. There was a moment of silence as the two of you stared at each other, before he moved over you and hovered on top of you. The moment was perfect, the way his body molded to yours.
His lips found yours once again, and the kiss started off soft but eventually deepened. The intensity of the moment was something you had never experienced before, and your body felt on fire as his hands explored your skin. As his fingers traced patterns on your skin, you felt more and more aroused, and you moaned with pleasure as his fingers moved down across your sensitive skin to your underwear.
As you felt his fingers graze across your most sensitive parts, you gasped with pleasure, and Haechan smiled
“you’re hands please, i just need something inside of me” you begged.
Haechan smirked as he continued to tease you over your underwear. “then we have to get rid of these”
He slowly removed them before stuffing them into his nightstand.
You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Haechan's fingers continued to tease you over your underwear. Your body throbbed with need, and you couldn't help but beg for more. The anticipation was driving you wild, and you craved the touch of his hands inside of you.
"Please, Haechan," you whimpered, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."
Haechan's smirk widened, his eyes darkening with desire. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, reveling in every moment of your vulnerability. Without a word, he slowly removed your underwear and discarded it into the nightstand.
The cool air caressed your exposed flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. Haechan positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze intense and hungry. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he hovered over you, his breath mingling with yours.
His lips crashed onto yours once again, this time with an even fiercer hunger. The kiss was bruising, and passionate, as if he wanted to consume every ounce of your being. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch sent electric shocks through you, heightening your desire.
But Haechan was not one to rush. He knew the power of anticipation. His fingers danced along the curves of your thighs. You squirmed beneath his touch, unable to suppress the moans that escaped your lips.
"Patience," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with a raw sensuality that made your heart race. "I want to savor every moment."
His words only fueled the fire within you, igniting a primal need that consumed your thoughts. You could no longer wait, your body aching and yearning for release. With desperate boldness, you reached for him and pulled him closer. Haechan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and desire as you guided his hand to where you needed him most.
Without hesitation, his fingers slipped between your slick folds, finding your throbbing core. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You arched your back, giving him better access as he explored every inch of you, driving you to the edge.
As his fingers moved in delicious circles, your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his breathless whispers in your ear. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only the two of you.
Haechan's lips found yours once again, muffling the cry that escaped from deep within you as he brushed against your most sensitive spot. Your body shook with pleasure.
Every stroke sent shockwaves coursing through your body, building the pleasure to an unbearable peak. Your hips instinctively rose to meet his ministrations, wanting to feel even closer to him. The room seemed to spin as you felt your orgasm start to wash over you.
Haechan's fingers quickened their pace, pushing you further. With a sudden burst of overwhelming pleasure, your climax finally crashed over you. Your body shuddered beneath Haechan's touch as waves of intense bliss radiated from your core. It was an explosion of ecstasy that left.
As you finally started to get all your senses back you quickly reached out to Haechan. "Let me make you feel good too"
Haechan's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he chuckled nervously, avoiding your gaze. "I-I get pleasure just from giving you pleasure," he stuttered.
The corners of your lips turned up in a sly smile as you teasingly asked, "Did you cum in your pants?"
In response, Haechan groaned and buried his face on your neck. "You just sounded so beautiful, I couldn't resist," he admitted shamefully.
You couldn't help but feel a mix of desire and amusement at his confession. Pulling away from him, you leaned into captured his lips with yours. "That's incredibly hot," you muttered against his mouth before breaking into a giggle.
"Alright," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye, "let's get cleaned up...and maybe we can find a way to get out of those pants too."
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In the morning, you felt the warmth of hands around your body. With a content smile, you turned around to find Haechan already awake, looking at you. "Good morning, beautiful."
"How long have you been awake?" you inquired.
"Not too long, I didn't want to wake you up" he replied.
Leaning in to plant a morning kiss on Haechan's lips, you were halted midway. "I messed up," he confessed.
Shocked, you asked, "What do you mean?"
"I slept with my only friend," he admitted.
A chuckle escaped you. "Well, if you play your cards right, you might end up with a girlfriend instead."
He chuckled at your response, pulling you in for another kiss
As the soft morning light streamed through the curtains, the intimacy between you and Haechan deepened. The laughter from the lighthearted exchange lingered as he pressed his lips against yours.
Breaking the kiss, Haechan looked into your eyes with a mix of affection and sincerity. "I'm serious, though. I don't want this to change things between us."
You traced your fingers gently along his cheek, reassuringly. "Haechan, it doesn't change anything. We both have our pasts, and what matters is what we have now."
A grateful smile played on his lips as he held you close, appreciating the comfort of the moment. "You're amazing, you know that?"
The tenderness in his words made your heart flutter. "You're not too bad yourself," you teased, your fingers intertwining with his.
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Your mother has noticed a change in your demeanor, catching glimpses of smiles and laughter while you were on your phone. Initially, you tried to dismiss it, claiming it was just conversations with friends, but the façade crumbled when your mother overheard you on a Facetime call, and she didn't recognize the voice. Peeking into your room she also didn’t notice the face on the screen.
Now, you found yourself anxiously anticipating how your parents would react to meeting Haechan for the first time. Your mother insisted on the introduction, pointing out that you had never appeared as happy with your previous partners. Which you had to give it to her, it was true. 
While you were confident your mother would adore Haechan, your concern was with your father. He was often distant, engrossed in his role as the owner of a major technology company. His strict views on your relationships were rooted in a desire to maintain a family business, yet he doubted your ability to contribute to it.
Hoping your father would be too occupied to attend dinner wasn't far-fetched, he frequently skipped family gatherings. However, your mother's pleas for him to take a rare evening off for his "precious" daughter won him over.
When you first brought it up with Haechan he was terrified. Always saying he was too busy to meet them.
But you finally caught him. He was complaining that he hasn't seen you in some time and that he misses you. So you asked if he was free later. Implying something sexual so he would change his plans if he needed to. When he took the bait and said he would be free all weekend, you told him to get ready to meet your parents. 
As the doorbell rang, you rushed to answer it before anyone else could. "You look so handsome," you cooed, admiring Haechan in a suit that, while not perfectly fitted, he still made it look good.
Haechan, in turn, was taken aback by your appearance. Clad in a baby pink puffy spring dress with pearl accessories, you radiated elegance. The elaborate outfit was your response to your father's decision to turn a family dinner into a business-oriented event.
Warned in advance, Haechan contemplated rescheduling, but your disappointment look and tears swayed him. 
"I can't do this," he admitted.
"Yes, you can. It's okay," you reassured him, leading him toward the dining room.
As the evening unfolded, Haechan appeared more nervous than usual. Sensing his discomfort, you offered solace by whispering in his ear, "We can go to my room after we finish dinner." This seemed to ease his tension, evident in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders.
Upon entering the dining room, you wore a big smile, catching your mother's approving gaze. "Ah, this must be Haechan! I've heard great things about you," she greeted warmly.
"I've heard a lot about you too, Ms. [Last Name]," Haechan replied.
The initial interactions went smoothly. Haechan answered a few questions from your mother, and the room dissolved into various conversations. However, your father remained engrossed in discussions with his employees, seemingly oblivious to Haechan's presence.
Sensing Haechan's ongoing nervousness, you discreetly held his hand under the table. "You're doing amazing, we can sneak out soon."
As if on cue, your father redirected his attention to Haechan, acknowledging his presence. "How rude of me! I haven't even spoken to my daughter's new boyfriend," he announced. "So, what is it your parents do for a living?"
Haechan hesitated before revealing, "Well, they don't do much anymore. I work at a convenience store to pay for my apartment."
Your father raised an eyebrow. "Already working for yourself, impressive. Do you do anything else in your free time?"
Releasing the breath of air you were holding in, you smile. This was a small victory, your father rarely asked the guys you brought over questions. Not even caring for your friends. Remembering the time Jeno once threw up in your bathroom from how your father kept ignoring him. 
"My father taught me how to code when I was younger," Haechan disclosed.
"That's impressive," your father acknowledged, swirling his wine before taking a sip. "What's your surname? You look familiar."
Haechan gulped before confessing, "Lee."
A collective widening of eyes among your father's employees followed, and your father smirked. "I knew you looked familiar, Lee Donghyuck."
Confusion furrowed your eyebrows. You expected Haechan to correct your father, but instead, he flinched and looked at you.
"I'm guessing you lied to my daughter?" your father quipped. "What was the name you came up with again? Haechan."
Tears welled up in your eyes, and to salvage any remaining dignity, you stood up and hurriedly left the room.
Your mother exchanged a glance with Haechan before whispering something to him. He excused himself from the table and followed you.
You slammed the door shut, intending to cry alone. However, Haechan entered the room moments later.
"Please let me explain first," Haechan begged, attempting to pull you in an embrace, but you resisted.
"What is there to explain? Have you been lying to me this whole time?"
"No, God, no! Yes, my name is Donghyuck.. Haechan is just a nickname," he clarified. "My dad worked at your father's company, coding for years until he was fired. They wanted someone younger."
He gently held your face in his hands, "At first, I hated you. But when I saw you tearing up and running to the  janitor's closet, it made my heart hurt, so I had to follow you."
"I told you my name was Haechan because that's what I go by in school. I wouldn't have gotten the scholarship if they knew who I was related to. Your father basically runs this town! I had to!"
"I swear I was going to tell you, but then I started developing feelings for you. I couldn't risk it! This is the best thing to ever happen to me, you're the best thing to ever happen to me!"
As you stood there, emotions swirling within you, you listened to Haechan's explanation. His vulnerability and genuine regret were evident in every word.
A mixture of anger, confusion, and empathy danced on the surface of your emotions. "Haechan, why didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice a blend of hurt and frustration.
his eyes pleading for understanding. "I wanted to, but the fear of losing you, or jeopardizing everything we had, it paralyzed me. I never meant to lie to you. I just didn't know how to tell you."
You took a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, but his honesty and the vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord. "You should have trusted me, Haechan. Relationships are built on trust, not on secrets and lies."
He nodded, remorse written across his features. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and I understand if you can't forgive me."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air. You finally spoke, "I need time to process this. It's not just about the lie but the fact that you felt you had to hide something from me. Trust is something we'll need to work on."
Haechan nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, even if it takes time.”
“I love you, and I'll always be honest with you from now on," he promised, enfolding you in a tight embrace.
Your body resisted at first, still in shock of everything that just happened, but you eventually gave in, wrapping your arms around him. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his embrace made you realize how much you loved him despite the lies. 
You looked him in his eyes, studying his face before slowly letting your body finally connect your lips to his. 
Haechan’s kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly grew in intensity as the passion between the two of you grew. You felt his hands on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.
Despite the initial shock and hurt, you found yourself unable to resist Haechan’s touch, his lips, the way he made you feel. You knew trust would take time to build, but right now, you couldn't resist the heat between the two of you.
Haechan’s hands moved up to your hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened the kiss even further. “Donghyuck” You moaned softly, unable to control the pleasure that coursed through you.
“I love the way you moan my name” he growled
As the kiss came to an end, you were both left breathless, panting from the intensity of the moment. You looked up into Donghyuck’s eyes, seeing the love and desire there, and you couldn't help but smile. “I love you so much” he whispered
"I love you too,"
Your eyes met his and your lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked
"For loving me enough to tell me the truth," you responded.
“I will never hurt you again”
You stared silently, soaking in his presence, and a moment later, a small smile stretched across your lips. Donghyuck pulled you in for another heated kiss causing you to let out a small moan before pulling away slightly. 
“You promise?” voice still shaky from the kiss.
Donghyuck grinned, his hands moved to your waist. There was a brief moment of discomfort as he lifted you onto your bed, but your objection was quickly silenced once you regained your balance.
You couldn't help but giggle at the boyish grin on Donghyck’s face as he looked at you from between your legs.
“I promise” he spoke as his hands traced the edges of your panties underneath your dress, teasing you and leaving you desperate for more.
A mischievous grin spread across Donghyuck’s face as he slowly began to slide your panties down, revealing more and more of your skin. You bit your lip, enjoying the sensation as he removed the final bit of fabric.
Donghyuck’s hands quickly moved to hook your legs around his waist, and you felt his fingers move towards your wet core. He teased you for a few minutes before moving his fingers up your slit, one finger brushing against your clit.
You moaned softly, biting your lip as you tried to keep yourself from making too much noise. You couldn’t help yourself though, the sensation overwhelming you as he began to circle your clit.
The sensation was so intense you couldn’t help but squirm beneath Donghyuck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your clothed stomach. His fingers slowed and he looked up at you. “Shh…” he whispered, lowering his head to your chest, kissing your exposed skin as you tried to regain control of yourself.
For a few moments you could barely breathe, light kisses upon your skin driving you wild. You could feel his cock pressed against your leg, and could tell it was straining against his pants. 
“You are so gorgeous,” Donghyuck spoke softly as he moved up your body. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers teasing your clit as he moved his hand away.
Your lips were breathing heavily against his, your hips bucked as you felt him tease your clit again. You began to breathe hard, hot breaths gusting between your lips and his. "I love you” he repeated as his lips moved to your neck. He bit your neck, his lips sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.
You moaned softly as you moved your hands to his pants, fumbling with the button before pulling them and his underwear down so he could step out of them.
You felt his cock pressed against your skin, and you couldn’t help but reach out for it. You could feel his shaft pulsating against your hand as you stroked it.
Donghyuck let out a small grunt, his hips bucking into your hand as you teased the head of his cock. “goddamn” he moaned as you pulled him closer.
“I want you inside me. You could feel his shaft twitch in your hand as you said the words, your fingers tightening around the shaft as you moved to stand in front of him.
You pulled your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor as you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. The garment fell to the ground, your breasts exposed to Donghyuck’s hungry gaze.
Donghyuck reached up, taking your breasts in his hands. He gently laid you back on the bed, his hands moving from your breasts to your hips. 
You waited with heavy breaths as he finished stripping down, your eyes eagerly scanning his chest and abdomen. Reaching for his cock again eager for him to be inside you. 
Donghyuck quickly shifted his hips, slowly sliding his cock inside you. You let out a soft moan as he slowly filled you up. He began thrusting slowly, his thrusts growing stronger and deeper.
He moaned loudly as he thrusts inside you, letting you slowly push against him. His thrusts were desperate.
As he felt his climax coming he reached down to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The connection between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect sync. It was a dance of pleasure and desire, each movement bringing you closer to that sweet release.
As his thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapped against yours with a hunger that matched your own. The room filled with your moans and the rhythmic sound of skin slapping together. Time seemed to blur as the world around you vanished.
Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as he drove deeper into you. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you deeper into the abyss of ecstasy.
Donghyuck's breath grew ragged against your ear as he moved faster, chasing his climax with fervor. His grip on your hand tightened, his body trembling with anticipation.
You arched your back as you felt yourself approach climax, your hands gripping the sheets as you sought more friction. Donghyuck’s pace quickened, his cock sliding in and out of you as you felt your orgasm approach.
Your body tensed as you came closer and closer. You cried out, moaning his name as he kissed you. “Donghyuck!”
Donghyuck’s thrusts grew more and more erratic. He began to let out a series of moans as he continued to thrust. He groaned loudly, your walls tightening around his cock as he continued to thrust. You could feel his cock twitch as he came, his cum filling you up.
Donghyuck’s cock slid out of you as the two of you came down from your orgasm. You curled up against him, his arms wrapping around you as you kissed him. 
“I love you too.” you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You rested your head against his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fell asleep without any worries.
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The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Donghyuck stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked sleepily and focused on the beautiful sight in front of him--your peaceful face, bathed in gentle morning light.
As he realized your arm was still snugly wrapped around him, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The night before had been filled with whispers, laughter, and tender kisses shared between you both. And in this quiet moment, as the world outside continued to awaken, Donghyuck felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.
Leaning in closer, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. His touch was feather-light, melting away any lingering traces of sleep from your mind. You stirred slightly, a drowsy smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him.
"Mmm, good morning," you murmured, your voice filled with warmth and affection.
"Good morning," Donghyuck replied, his voice low and husky.
His fingers gently traced the contours of your face, his touch so tender it sent shivers down your spine. As you peered into his eyes, you could see the love that radiated from within him. It was in those moments when the world was still and quiet, that you truly understood the depth of his affections. Donghyuck was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but in these stolen moments, he bared his soul to you.
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taglist: @yesohhsehun @numberonekeehostan @rjreins @yutaswh0re @haechansbbg @fullsunahceah @sundamariis @sinsgaybutthatsokay @nae-vm @hcheach @snflwrhaerecs4u @jenodreamer @mystverse @lhcread @onlyoursol-ace @enchantingtreedrea @jaeimjaemin @justforme211 @jakejaehyun @nk-3554 @hyunniesvlog @bbyjayb @nodisdino @qwonii-111 @pwarkkjisung @wettestpoussy @bomi-ja
(srry if i forgot you or if it didnt tag you)
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marilynjeansims · 5 months
Text
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Vanity Essentials. by marilynjeansims
ꨄ︎ skincare | makeup brushes | wig ꨄ︎
ꨄ︎ lip & cheek tint | makeup mirror | eyelash makeup ꨄ︎
ꨄ︎ vanity case | flowers | makeup remover & beauty blender ꨄ︎
ꨄ︎ hair accessories | perfume (functional) | makeup tray ꨄ︎
Thank you, as always, to the incredible cc creators! @simkoos @syboubou @pierisim @lilaccreative @tudtuds @aroundthesims @symphonysim @harrie-cc @felixandresims
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hysteria-things · 23 days
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REQ! I was listening to closer chainsmokers and it reminded me of chris.. 🫣
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CLOSER
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub(ish)/soft dom!chris x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: chris hasn’t had sex in a hot minute, and he’s getting sexually frustrated. even his own brothers nag him about it when they’re at the bar… and then he sees you.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, drinking, dry humping, palming, p in v, stomach bulge, overstimulation, slight spanking/grabbing
ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,213
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞:
THANK YOU FOR 2,000 FOLLOWERS I WANT TO GIVE YOU GUYS SMOOCHES SO BAD🫶
they’re set to be twenty-one in this!
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the modernness of the hotel restaurant makes it seem fancier than it is. chris needs an alcoholic beverage, so he’s sat at the bar waiting for his drink.
“thanks,” he says to the bartender, chugging it in a few seconds.
he’s been annoyed lately, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s because he hasn’t been getting as much action recently. even his brothers pointed it out, and matt’s voice still rings in his head.
“you need to get laid, man. we’re on vacation. find a pretty girl and do your thing; you’re long overdue.”
he sighs, dragging his hands on his face. then, a laugh fills his ear. he turns his head to the source.
you’re sitting just a few seats down, laughing with your girls and clinking drinks. his eyes scan your body that’s dressed in a tight dress and some high heels.
you have a full face of makeup on, and jewelry decorating your ears and neck.
licking his lips, he clenches the empty cup tightly in his hands. it’s humiliating, to say the least, but his dick twitches. you’re just so beautiful.
one of your friends catches him, and she taps you on the shoulder and points to chris. he clears his throat, quickly turning the other way.
you turn your head to where she’s pointing and look back at her. “what?” you question.
“he was eye-fucking you, girl.” your other friend says, wiggling her eyebrows. “you should talk to him.”
you chuckle. “that’s silly.”
“it’s been too long since you’ve been dicked down.” she says, getting up from the barstool and dragging you off your own. “go. shoo, shoo!”
she pushes you to him, annoyingly tutting before walking over and leaning against the bar. “can i have a tray of tequila shots, please.” you ask, eyeing the handsome boy next to you.
he adjusts his shirt. “i like your tattoo.”
you glance down at the heart tattoo you have on your shoulder. something cute you got when you’ve turned eighteen. “thank you.”
the bartender brings you the tray, but you stay put. “what’re you doing here?” you ask, twirling your hair when he finally makes eye contact.
he stares at your lips. “a holiday with my brothers. you?”
you point behind you. “my friend’s wedding.”
you turn to your two friends to see that they’re whispering, nodding at you, giving you the okay to leave with him.
he smirks when you take two shots off the tray and down them. you grab his hand so you can lead the way.
obviously, he doesn’t question anything.
you walk to the hotel parking lot and go to where your range rover is.
the two of you give each other those eyes, and chris can’t help but get hard at the sight of it. you look down and smirk.
you open the back door and push him inside, his back leaning against the door on the opposite side.
chest heaving, his body fills with adrenaline when you shut the door behind you and lift your dress to teasingly take down your underwear.
he can’t say words, he can only admire you and your actions. he’s been waiting to do this for too long.
you unbuckle his pants and slide them down, underwear still on. straddling his lap still in your stilettos, you grind your bare pussy onto his clothed dick.
he exhales shakily, grabbing your hips to guide yourself harder onto his erection.
the way his tip brushes on your clit has him moaning underneath you, the same coming from you.
you grab his shoulders and lean in, your lips hovering centimeters away from his. “i-i never got your name.” he stammers between groans.
you smile. “y/n.”
“i’m chri— oh.” he’s cut off when you start to palm him, still rutting your hips.
“what’s that?”
“chri— mm.” you rub harder, feeling his twitching as you grab and caress his dick.
“chris?”
“y-yeah. f-fuck.” he grunts, thrusting into your hand and seeping his cum through his boxers. you purse your lips, pulling down his undergarments so they rest on his thighs. you’re so wet, and you want him inside you. bad.
“it’s nice to meet you, chris,” you whisper, connecting your lips with his as you align yourself with him. you underestimated how huge he was, and you whine in the kiss.
you need to spread your legs wider to fit him inside you.
you moan softly, bouncing on him with your mouths grazing each other, lips red from the desirable need you have for him. he’s like a magnet, pulling you closer and not wanting to stop.
your heart pounds in your chest, your noses sliding against one another. he feels so good.
his hands run gently up your back, eyes not leaving the bulge that’s protruding in your tummy. this has never happened to you before, and you scream-like moan when you feel it each time you plop yourself back on him.
“so big,” you whine, making out with him as your tongues intertwine.
“i’m cumming!” you exclaim, throwing your head back when his tip slides in repeatedly and touches your g-spot.
cum drips out of your pussy, spilling onto your thighs and his base smoothly. he moans at the sight.
the windows fog up as the car rocks, and the slap of your ass on his thighs can be heard along with your high-pitched moans. he bites the tattoo on your shoulder, leaving a red and purple mark on it.
your legs shake violently, but you don’t stop. instead, you bounce harder and faster. “sh-shit, s-slow down.”
“i can’t!” you squeal, completely drunk from the way his dick feels. the way it bulges has you clenching already, your walls getting used to the shape of him.
he’s starting to feel overstimulated, swollen from the way you’re stimulating not only him; but yourself.
“y-your cock feels so good! i lo— i love it too much!” his hands grab onto your hips, guiding you down at just the right angle that has your eyes crossing and your brain feeling foggy from the pleasure.
chris chuckles. “i-i’m not gonna last much longer.”
“i don’t care. i ju-just need you inside me, please.” you whimper, starting to get sloppy when your orgasm approaches. you try to kiss him again, but your mouth is wide open as babbles and noises come out. “oh. fu— so go-od… so good!”
brunette strands stick to his head from sweating, licking his lips when he starts twitching once again. “i’m gonna cum, gorgeous.” he says, giving your ass a soft slap before gripping it. “you want it all, don’t you, sweet thing?”
“yes, yes, yes!” you chant, slumping forward when your release gushes around him like the last time. “i-i need it. please, cum. p-please.”
when you feel his cum paint your walls, you sigh of relief. you try to keep bouncing, but he holds you still and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
he lifts you off of him, placing you back down so he can hold you close as he rubs your back in a calming manner.
not knowing how much time passed, you guys lay there in comfortable silence. it’s like time didn’t pass at all, as if you’re never getting older.
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𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut
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scatteredskittless · 16 days
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Hazbin Hotel crew x Reader: general fluff hcs
A/n: 100+ follower special !!
I’ve been doing a lot of headcanons lately so I pinky promise there’ll be some kind of oneshot coming soon 🙏
Warnings: None !! Just some good old fashioned fluff :3
Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌
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‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧
📻𖤐 When Alastor forms a close bond with you (and I’ve mentioned this before), he’d want to spend more time with you. Even if that’s just sitting in silence together and reading your own separate books
📻𖤐 Who knows? Maybe he’d let you lean against him, head on his shoulder, as he reads to you?
📻𖤐 This guys primary love language is quality time for sure. A close second perhaps acts of service.
📻𖤐 Biggest mamas boy ever…. But I’m sure we all knew that already
📻𖤐 LOVES to go on walks with you, especially during the afternoon or at night.
📻𖤐 Would link your arm with his and chat with you as you went on your daily stroll together… you’re not quite sure when it became a routine but it did.
📻𖤐 Huuuggeee story teller
📻𖤐 100% laughs at dad jokes and will also make them from time to time
📻𖤐 Always winning every single IDGAF war because he genuinely, wholeheartedly, just doesn’t give two shits 💀💀
📻𖤐 Can’t swim. I don’t know how to explain why I think this but I just KNOW its true
📻𖤐 Freezes like a deer in headlights (quite literally) when you shine a bright enough light at him
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‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel would be the absolute BEST at giving out hugs oh my goddd, he’s got six arms for a reason, baby !
🕸️ᥫ᭡ I feel like he’d have fun dancing !! (I mean “Loser, Baby” was enough evidence for me)
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Competitive as fuck, UNO would actually be so fun with him 😭 (gets so genuinely excited when he wins too, gloating about it and everything like he just won the lottery)
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Biggest shoplifter ever and most of the time it’s not even because he can’t afford it, he just does it for fun.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Smells realllyyy good all the time, he’s got the best perfumes ever
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Spa-days/Self-care days quickly become a Saturday night thing for you two once you become one of his besties. And I’m talking the whole shabang like face masks, candles lit and snack tray out as he paints your nails for you 💕
🕸️ᥫ᭡ It’s something Angel genuinely looks forward to as well (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄⩊ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Primary love language is most likely physical touch, we’ve all seen how touchy he can get 🤞
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Getting to know his real name and getting to call him by it means he trusts you a lot, he doesn’t give that privilege out to just anybody.
🕸️ᥫ᭡ On a less serious note, he’s definitely a huge show off 💀💀
🕸️ᥫ᭡ Amazing at doing makeup, will do your makeup if you asked him to (might accidentally poke you in the eye or something though lmfaoo)
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‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧
🍺🃁 Needs glasses and HAS them but just doesn’t wear them for whatever reason. He looks good in them though !!
🍺🃁 Cheats in any card game ever. Wins 9/10 against you because of that reason (he’s also a gambler so that’s a big factor as well obviously)
🍺🃁 Bros the type of guy to call you “doll” and “baby”
🍺🃁 Primary love language?? quality time 🙏 🙏acts of service and physical touch are both tied for second place (but you only ever really get the physical touch one if you’re his s/o)
🍺🃁 Again, we all saw “Loser, Baby” this mf can DANCE and he enjoys it too
🍺🃁 Jazz is one of Huskers favourite music genres for sure
🍺🃁 You two don’t really have a routine hangout type thing but he does enjoy it when you come around to the bar to just hang out with him while he cleans and whatnot :3
🍺🃁 Trust, you will be given a specialized nickname just for you once he considers you a close friend of his.
🍺🃁 He’s a great listener but gives very blunt advice, doesn’t sugarcoat shit if you ask him for his opinion on something.
🍺🃁 Weirdly caught up with mental health stuff, like he knows a lot about it
🍺🃁 Poor Husker does NOT like the cat noises he makes but he literally cannot control them 😭😭 (believe me, he’s tried)
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‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧
🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is NOT a morning person, usually sleeps in until around noon
🗡️☪︎ Would have good fashion taste
🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is also a very competitive UNO player, probably ends up yelling at Alastor for making her pick up all those “pick up four” cards when everyone plays together (yes, he looks smug as fuck while doing it and yes he was saving them just for her 💀💀)
🗡️☪︎ Has beef with almost all of the guys at the hotel but Husker is chill for the most part
🗡️☪︎ Adding onto that last one, it doesn’t really take much for a man to piss her off tbh (she’s so real for this)
🗡️☪︎ Would spar with you if you asked and gets really into it too !! She’s careful not to actually hurt you though and it’s a great way of bonding with her (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
🗡️☪︎ Verrryyyyy jealous girl, remember when Emily took Charlie’s hands in the heaven episode?? (The look on her face made me giggle)
🗡️☪︎ Hates pickles. She just looks like she’d be a pickle hater
🗡️☪︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation
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‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧
⭐️☀︎ Charlie is infact a morning person and wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for zero reason whatsoever 💀
⭐️☀︎ She does her absolute best to include everyone in every activity going on, she doesn’t ever want anybody in the hotel to feel excluded
⭐️☀︎ Biggest shipper EVER. You ever told her you have a crush on someone here?? Oh god..
⭐️☀︎ She’ll silently fan girl from a distance whenever you and your crush are together to the point Vaggie has to drag her away
⭐️☀︎ Charlie can be a little bit overwhelming at times but her happiness is suppeerrr contagious
⭐️☀︎ The best way to spend time and bond with her?? Literally just offer to do anything with her and she’ll do it, I don’t think she’s too picky
⭐️☀︎ Learnt some Spanish from Vaggie and tries to use it with her to be all romantic but her pronunciations are fucked up (She’s trying her hardest guys okay 😞🙏)
⭐️☀︎ Totally asked Vaggie one time as a pick up line if she fell from heaven and she broke out into a sweat (poor girl)
⭐️☀︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation. quality time is somewhere up there too though
⭐️☀︎ Will break out into song a lot and it’s kinda funny to watch
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‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧
🧼𐙚 Acts a lot like a hyperactive toddler on crack. Has zero chill and it’s pretty rare to see her actually calm
🧼𐙚 I think Niffty lowkey has stage freight, like we all see how she just automatically freezes up when a camera is on (I mean it’s happened twice in the show already)
🧼𐙚 Takes a lot after Alastor, sees him as some sort of older brother figure as well 😞🩵
🧼𐙚 When playing UNO, she’d fucking EAT the cards so she’d win. Deadass just nom nom nom that shit
🧼𐙚 She’s a big giggler, she’ll laugh and giggle at almost everything so it’s not hard to get her to do so
🧼𐙚 She’d probably really enjoy it if you let her just sit with you for a while and braid your hair (But she’d steal some for her “collection” in the process)
🧼𐙚 I’m actually not too sure what Nifftys love language would even be? Perhaps acts of service (she is a maid, after all)
🧼𐙚 Okay 99% sure this is actually canon but she’s a hardcore germophobe, can’t handle when things are cluttered or a mess.
🧼𐙚 Has a collection of cleaning supplies in her room
+ Bonus !!
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‧₊˚✧ Vox ✧˚₊‧
📺☆ Whenever Vox is sleeping or thinking really hard about something, the voxtek symbol will bounce around on his screen like the DVD logo thing
📺☆ Not very big on pda, he has an image to uphold, after all. (But he would enjoy affection in private though)
📺☆ Not above watching you through whatever technology you have, he spies on you a lot 💀💀
📺☆ Also guys…… stop pretending Vox isn’t a whiny little bitch, because he is (trust me y’all, read some of @bigfatbimbo’s stuff)
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Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞
ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles
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vintage-bentley · 2 years
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I'm gonna need Amber's cc list too. And I know you said you can't use the gallery but do you have anywhere you could upload her tray files? - ash
I was going to add her even if I wasn’t asked because I love her lol, I’m glad you like her too! I might have misspoke because I can actually use the gallery, but I prefer not to upload there and will just put the tray files in Google drive 😄
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qwimchii · 7 months
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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 3) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)
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𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 21.3𝘬
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩-𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘴 & 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨
note: this chapter is literally insane but 😗 nothing like a bit of forced proximity 🤭
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when you emerged from your room, it was already mid-morning. you had pulled your hair back and up from your face, ringlets of loose curls framing your head like a halo. you dressed in the best attire you could fish out of the armoire—a petal pink skirt with furls of embellishments like honey, and a pale beige blouse with tendrils of pastel blue carnations stitched into its chest and up the high collar, gathering tight at your shoulders and pooling into a loose sleeve then the tight cuff of your wrist.
the garments were delicate—as delicate as you felt you were, broken in and soft. from the makeup tray on a shelf in the armoire, you very lightly pressed just a tinge of french rogue powder to your lips and cheeks to smother the swollen puffiness of your face. taking a bit of dark eyeshadow on your pinkie, you smudged it meticulously across your eyelid, hoping you looked positively radiant on this awful, gloomy day, despite the strong sun shining through the windows of your room.
when you passed the porter, marching into the compartment littered with los vaqueros, one-four-one, and much to your chagrin, Ghost, you barely spared the porter a glance. he looked so much smaller, meager, in the sunlight, a chubby pudge to his face and teeth that slightly protruded over his bottom lip. 
still, you bowed your head with a graciousness as he just rudely stared into your face, his hands clenched into clammy fists by his sides.
when you stepped into the compartment, there was a diminishing of noise that coalesced into a steady silence. you ignored them all, sliding onto an abandoned couch where breakfast tea and coffee was laid out. you served yourself a cup, politely curling your legs to the side as you looked out the window.
it was the same scenery as the night before—a stretching half-desert with sparse vegetation and weedy trees, cast in a yellow glare from the sunlight.
Kate slid into the plush chair adjacent to you, the sight of another woman at her shoulder making you jump. she had a mahogany rich tone to her skin, intricate black coils braided tight to her head and trailing down the back of her neck. the almond curve of her eyes and full lips gleamed. 
your mouth parted quite rudely. she was absolutely radiant.
laxing back in her chair, she sat across from you with an easy-going look. she wore loose buckskin trousers with a fringe and a jacket of cowhide, a bandolier slung across her chest. she tipped her hat to you and you sorely missed your stetson at that moment.
“mornin’,” Kate said with a light slap on your knee, which you deemed mildly inappropriate, but at this point, you couldn’t bother to comment.
as if on queue, you eyed Ghost pad over to sit by the woman. he was rock still, face imperceptible and stoic behind the mask, though you noted the twitch of his hand on his holster. another one if his telling habits.
you sipped at your cup. “good morning, Kate.” 
pointedly ignoring Ghost, you gave a polite smile to the woman across from you, offering a hand. “pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“please. call me Maria.” she had the same soothing rhythmical accent as Alejandro and Rudolfo, her voice a smooth, grating honey.
your brows rose. before you could stop yourself, you remarked—
“i had no idea there were women in los vaqueros.”
Kate snorted, and you immediately felt your face flush. if Kate was in one-four-one, or led it alongside John, practically, it shouldn’t have been shocking that there were female gunslingers in los vaqueros.
stupid, you chided to yourself, not missing the way Ghost cocked his head at you curiously.
but Maria just smiled, reaching out to brush her knuckles over Kate’s shoulder, and Kate's fingers inched over to touch her knee in reply. “she’s funny,” she said, tone denoting something of approval.
Ghost cleared his throat, drawing your attention.
“we need to talk.”
not to you, you hoped with a bitterness, and found relief when he leaned instead towards the other two women.
Kate’s eyes narrowed.
“you didn’t tell her?” her tone was lashing and it startled you.
suspicious, you turned your gaze to take in Ghost fully. he was staring dead at Kate, unmoving and wordless, till he shifted, knees spreading wider as he settled back. she sighed, long and tired.
“when we get back to san francisco,” she said with a cocked brow, “you’ll be goin’ back to your folks.”
your blood slowed to a thick, icy stop. “what?”
she just shook her head. “we weren’t plannin’ on it but it’s best for you, missy. we won’t be able to protect you much once we’re in the city. there’ll be a full-blown out war. Turner isn’t hellbent on finding you.”
she clasped your knee. “he’s hellbent on killing us.”
you startled when you felt a hand on your shoulder. looking back, Soap was leaning over you, arm no longer in a sling and clasping at your shoulder with a solemn look.
“sorry, bonnie lass,” he said bitterly. “we should’ve never taken ye in the first place.” then his face brightened. “but yer gonna see yer family soon, even if we’ll miss ya.”
behind him, Gaz stood with crossed arms, face pinched with an ever stoic look. you expected that he would be happy about this as the most diametrically opposed to your presence out of all the members of one-four-one, but the despaired scrunch of his brow betrayed him.
your voice cracked. “who decided this?”
the whole room shifted with discomfort, and Kate’s eyes slid to Ghost. you bit back a scream, refusing to even look in his direction. 
his voice was a deep timbre in your head—those were the terms of our agreement.
i own you. body and soul.
if you did go back to your daddy and mama—when you did, Turner would be there, old and wrinkled up like a prune, his stale breath a sigh against your face during long, long nights.
Ghost knew that if he gave you back to your mama and daddy, you would be handed over to Turner instantaneously. and still, he’d rather win the battle over your body against Turner. for revenge.
it seemed that he had no use for you now that his revenge ploy was over with.
John was standing at Maria’s shoulder now, leaning his body weight against the back of Kate’s chair. he looked at you somberly, mouth an etched line beneath the scruff of his beard.
“you saved my life with that bloody good sharpshootin’, sweetheart.” his eyes twinkled. “how can i ever repay you?”
you’d hardly thought John guiding you through your first murder was considered saving his life but you’d take all that you could get.
your mind turning back to Turner, the rushing torrent of blinding rage that consumed you was scary. you hated him with your whole being. you wanted to hate everyone with your whole being. you wanted to hate everyone in the room for doing this to you—their vengeful kidnapping ploy had turned you into a sinful outlaw just like them. but you just couldn’t.
“do me a favor.” you looked from each member of one-four-one, eyes passing over Ghost with a blind haze. “make sure you kill that Turner fucker slow and painful.”
that way you may never have to be owned by him.
Maria laughed aloud. “i like the way you talk, chica,” she said with a malicious glint to her grin, as one-four-one nodded in agreement with your words.
the rest of the morning was a slow haze. los vaqueros conjoined with one-four-one in the lounge compartment just before a brunch. you stuck with Kate and Maria the entire time, sorely avoiding Ghost and the other members of one-four-one, taking slow bites you could barely hold down.
an all-consuming grief pinched at your stomach. you would’ve gladly avoided the rest of them for the next day of travel on the train if Gaz didn’t barricade your way out the dining car. most of the men had filtered out, only a few stray los vaqueros lingering out of ear-shot.
Gaz crossed his arms in the doorway, looking down at you with a hooded face.
you cocked your brow. “yes?”
Gaz’s dislike for you had been obvious since day one. since the first moment you heard him speak, he had protested your stay at their base, which didn’t surprise you, but still left you feeling irked in an immature way.
he jerked his head to the hallway. “would you walk with me, ma’am?”
it didn’t sound like a question. turning on his heel sharply, you trailed after him bitterly. even with the pinched displeasure in his tone, he was still as polite as ever. biting down back your tongue, you wondered if the rest of one-four-one thought the same of your mama’s polite manner ingrained in you.
you followed him through several train compartments, a thick uneasiness settling on you from his silent and broad form in front of you, blocking half your sight, but relieved that porter was nowhere to be found. 
as you passed through another lounging car, the sparse spread of people across the plush interior eyed you curiously. one man peered above his newspaper at you, monocles glinting, and mouth skewing into a hard line, eyes shadowed.
you stepped to Gaz a bit closer.
when you reached the end of the first class compartments, he slid open the door that breached between the travel trains and a rusty red boxcar. the steel railway grinding against steel wheels was a louder rhythmic clatter than before.
for a brief moment, you were staggering through the rush of air on the gangway between compartments before Gaz offered you a forearm politely without even a glance. grasping it tightly, his strength was stabilizing, and he pulled you over the gangway and into the safety of the boxcar, your hair whipping in the wind.
several crates littered the space. you had a sneaking suspicion that the both of you weren’t supposed to be there.
Gaz drew the larger door of the boxcar open with a screeching, rumbling tug and dragged a crate an arms length from the edge. he took a seat on the floor, boot dangling just over the gravel tracks that passed below.
“ma’am?” he offered the place on the crate beside you with a gesture and you complied, taking a seat without much question, because there really was nothing else to do on this train.
this train ride bringing you right to your doom, you thought with a grimace.
in the long silence, you overlooked the landscape—there was a sharp dip from the railway into green plains, dotted with purplish vegetation that the sun spilled over with yellow delight
leaning forward to peer at the side of his face, you watched his dark eyes dart over the curve of the passing scenery.
“how did you know about this place?”
the swell of his throat bobbed. his voice sounded tight and airy. nervous. “i wander when i can’t sleep at night.”
you were no stranger to that. you thought back to your first night in the leather crafts shop, the itching anxiety to get out driving you to rummage through the kitchen where Ghost found you. 
pushing the memory from your mind, you tried not to let the apprehension drip into your voice.
“what’s this about, Gaz?”
he shrugged. “just wanted to enjoy the scenery of the land, ma’am.”
your brown quirked. “right. what is this really about?”
he sighed, shifting, his mouth in a sheepish, muddled twist.
“i’m not really sure how I’m supposed to say this ma’am—” your brown quirked again.
you put a hand to his shoulder lightly. “Gaz, for the love of everything good, please stop calling me ma’am.” he glanced at you from his peripheral. “you’re older than me.”
he leaned out of your touch. “right. sorry, miss.”
you bit back your tongue. even though you had just chided at him about his overly zealous formalities, you funnily felt as though you were talking to a nervous little boy with the way he fumbled with the seam of his jeans.
“Gaz, what is this about?” your voice was softened now, trying to coax him out of whatever hole he was digging himself into.
his voice was barely above a grumbling whisper. “Ghost came to me last night.”
you paused, jaw going numb.
sighing, you rubbed a hand over your forehead, smoothing back your hair with unease. “Gaz whatever he told you—”
his voice was soft with awe. “he asked me to marry you.”
the breath stopped dead in your throat, the world spinning at an angle. “what?”
he just nodded slowly, looking as shocked as you felt, his eyes glazed over and wide.
“i know this ain’t the proper way to propose, and when we’re off this train and over with this war, i’ll do it properly i swear, but—”
you held your temple, clutching at the wall of the boxcar. shakily, you pulled yourself to your feet. “stop Gaz. just stop.”
you backed away from the edge and he scrambled up to follow you.
“no, please, just listen—”
“no, you listen.” 
you knew it wasn’t fair to be angry at him. you knew it wasn’t fair, especially with the way he looked so crestfallen, brows pinched and shoulders slumped. 
“if i’m going to be married,” you said with a huff, indignant, “it’ll be on my terms and my terms only.”
he reached a tentative hand out to you, and you let him pick up your palm and press it to his chest.
“i was thirteen when i enlisted for the war.” 
you weren’t looking at him before but you were looking at him now.
he spoke fast and low. “i was an orphan. i didn’t look my age. no one wanted me in london, and the older boys in my orphanage were volunteering for the war. when i signed up, they snuck me in, pulled some strings with the army doctors.” his voice fell to a dead whisper. “i didn’t know what i was getting into.”
you felt stupid when tears welled up in your eyes. he looked so young, so broken in that moment. you wiped at your eyes quickly.
“oh Gaz—”
he let you pull him into a quick, indulgent hug. it was inappropriate and the way his arms hung loosely at his sides felt awkward, but you were grateful he let you do it anyway.
“i owe Ghost my life. i owe him everything. he took care of Soap and i when we were kids. John and Kate too, but they were preoccupied most of the time. Ghost—” he choked with emotion, “Simon was always there.”
it felt almost impossible to imagine a Ghost ten years younger in the militia, around the age you were now, keeping two gangly teens tucked closely to his side on a battlefield, maskless and freer without the malevolent reputation he bore. he wasn’t yet the gunslinging devilish outlaw you knew now. but the image only curled at the edges and soured in your mouth.
you didn’t want to hear this about Ghost.
“you don’t even like me,” you said, blunt, tilting your head up into Gaz’s face. he just looked down at you with an imperceptible face that you couldn’t even begin to pick apart.
then, he sighed, dropping your hand and stepping away.
“maybe not,” he said, voice soft, “but i’d like to try.”
you tried to digest that. “for yourself or for Ghost?”
the empty look he gave you was everything you needed to know. a dead silence followed before it was interrupted.
the boxcar’s far door—from where you had entered—was yanked open, and a member of los vaqueros stepped through.
the front of his jacket was tipped in an oozing red, and he clutched at the spot, shouting out something that you couldn’t understand before the unmistakable vibration of a gun was exploding forth in the air, echoing in the boxcar.
you screamed when his eyes went dark, a thick stream of blood flooding his mustache as he crashed to the floor with a deadly stiffness.
behind him, in the entrance of the doorway, was a man, his revolver raised high. he wore monocles and a twisted expression. you recognized him—the man reading the paper. and his revolver was aimed directly at you. 
Gaz moved fast. much faster than you, as he drew your body behind him, drawing his revolver. before he could even flick his thumb over the safety, a body clad in black whipped forward and reached around the monocled-man’s neck to grip at the collar of an expensive dress shirt. something glinted in the air and it drew over the man’s throat in a quick motion, a red mask gleaming by his cheek.
the monocled-man dropped by the fallen vaqueros.
Ghost straightened to his full height. you watched his eyes dart over Gaz quick—checking for injuries with pinched eyes. you had never noticed him do it before, and you jolted when his hardened gaze snapped to yours.
“we’ve been double-crossed—”
there was a loud, shattering racket from behind him and you saw glimpses of several bodies spill out into the gangway in a tangled fervor. you saw glimpses of Kate’s blonde hair struggling against a man with a disheveled cap and a fashionable black jacket. for a moment you caught his dark eyes, all-encompassing and evil.
the pullman porter.
Gaz rushed forward, revolver raised high, but Ghost only pushed back, driving you through the boxcar and yanking the door open to the next one, revealing another gangway with air spilling over it in dangerous whooshes.
you didn’t have time to think or to feel an ounce of fear, Gaz’s boots hot on your heels and Ghost behind him as they pushed you forward through to the next compartment.
you heard Ghost’s voice in a grit, tight with frustration. “i’m out of ammo,” he explained and Gaz didn’t slow for a second, spurring you further and further forward.
there was a ruminating clamor from behind you. something primal in you roared to life, fear coiling tight and real in your stomach. someone was chasing Ghost, Gaz and you. something primal in you told you it was the pullman porter hunting for you.
heaving the next boxcar’s door with a grit of your teeth, sweat pooled at your back. when you swung out onto the little platform, gripping the railing for purchase, panic rose in you at the sight of railway stretching on and fishing between rolling, green land.
you had reached the end of the train.
that didn’t stop Ghost. he pulled Gaz towards the ladder on the sheer outer wall of the last boxcar.
“up.” you had never seen him so panicked. “go up!”
Gaz immediately complied, spidering up the ladder and out of sight onto the roof of the moving train. when Ghost turned to you, you thought you may puke.
he must’ve seen the blaring alarm in your face because he hoisted you by the waist, yanking you towards the ladder easily. he steadied the trembles of your body with two gloved hands on your waist.
“one step at a time, princess.” there was a ferocity in his eyes. “i’ll catch you if you fall.”
a rush of something gold poured through you, and you steeled yourself, clambering up the rusty ladder rungs one at a time. the wind lashed at your clothes, threatening to steal you out into the open air, but Ghost’s hand was pushing you flush to the ladder against your back. when your boot slipped at the top rung, Ghost hissed, lurching forward, an iron grip at your waist.
at the top of the train, the world felt like it was moving too fast to comprehend. up ahead, a mountain loomed, casting a dark shadow over the train as the sun dipped behind its peak.
“don’t stop,” he commanded, and you scrambled forward, low to the train.
looking over your shoulder, you saw the porter’s head slide over the edge of the boxcar, pulling himself up onto the roof with an eerie ease. he was moving fast, almost full speed.
a revolver glinted in his hand.
Ghost shouted in frustration, hoisting you up by your arm and propelling you into a dead sprint over the train.
one slip, you realized, glancing over the edge of the roof, would send you toppling into the chasmic valley below.
the mountain ahead was approaching rapidly.
Gaz was a few bounds ahead of you, and he turned sharply to shoot at the porter just over your shoulder.
with a yelp, Ghost tugged you down and you flattened against the train. your eyes strained against the noon light and the mountain ahead split into a cave—not a cave, a tunnel.
“Gaz!” you choked out.
he dropped to the train roof with a clumsiness that sent his revolver skidding across the roof and off the edge. the train speared forward into the tunnel, shrouded your vision in a darkness that felt deafening.
Ghost’s hand was inching up your back.
“crawl forward,” he demanded, and you complied, creeping over the cold steel of the roof.
a blinding light ahead advanced, the end of the tunnel in sight.
there was a loud, ricocheting gunshot against the walls of the tunnel, a hot spark of friction against steel flickering in the darkness.
you screamed, Ghost’s hand on the collar of your blouse, as a glaring light enveloped you.
blinking rapidly against the sunlight, eyes burning, you scrambled to your feet with the help of Ghost’s strength.
when your eyes cleared, snapping into a focus, a panic flurried in you at the sight of the end of the train nearing.
you wanted to slow but Ghost kept pushing you forward wordlessly to the end of the train cars.
“where will we go?” you shouted against the violent wind.
a sob almost escaped you when he didn’t respond. Gaz stopped short at the edge of the last compartment, just before the train engine, jacket ruffling wildly in the wind. the look he gave you over his shoulder was one of pure dread.
you jolted when he straightened, barreling past you and Ghost right at the porter hot on your heels.
“Gaz!” Ghost shouted, his low baritone pitched and strained, hand lashing out to pull him back by his jacket but narrowly missing. you turned on your heel in horror.
the porter reeled back in surprise as Gaz tackled him full force to the floor of the train roof. they almost skittered off the edge if it wasn’t for Ghost lunging forward and gripping Gaz by the back of his jacket collar and hoisting him from the edge.
it may have been the weight of their two bodies combined, the rush of the wind, or the clumsiness in Ghost’s blundering, adrenaline drive that caught him off guard for just a moment that the porter took advantage of. he slammed the butt of his revolver into the side of Gaz’s face, and the boy’s entire body fell limp over the porter. 
he scrambled out from under Gaz’s body in a flash, and the scream that tore through your throat was carnal when he seized Ghost’s collar and sprung forward, pushing him right over the edge of the train roof.
Ghost fell with a sickening whoosh, and the speed of the train was already zipping away from his body crumpled against the ground, splayed unnaturally near the train tracks.
you scrambled back on hands and knees, not even sure when you collapsed, Ghost’s body already just a black dot in the distance.
the porter turned to you, the revolver still tight between his knuckles. his eyes were wild.
“who are you?” you screamed over the wind. his face was an ashy dark tone, looking extremely sickly and pale.
“i’m sorry,” he wailed, and you jolted further backwards when tears spilled from his eyes. your palm edged along the brim of the train roof, yelping when your hand almost slipped.
“he said he’d kill me and my family if i didn’t do it.” more tears spilled down his face. “i don’t want to kill anyone.”
his face was twisted up, whole body shaking as he raised the revolver. “but i can’t let my daughter die.”
there was a pop of a safety, and the darkness of his eyes swirling. an imperceptible feeling came crashing down on you—one you couldn’t even begin to describe, an endless downward whirl of dread, acceptance, dread, acceptance.
you thought of Ghost’s body sprawled out by the train tracks in the distance and closed your eyes.
acceptance.
the sound of a strangled cry startled you awake, and the sight of Kate’s arm clasped tight around his neck in his bind sent a whirling electricity down your spine. her blonde hair was wild, eyes even wilder, and she bared her teeth at you in a menacing look.
“for god’s sake, get your useless behind off the ground and help me!”
those familiar words screamed in the back room of the leather crafts shop had you scrambling to life, getting on your hands and knees and launching forward to wrestle the porter for his revolver.
he twisted back, and for a sick moment, you worried Kate would go reeling off the edge too as she dangerously neared it, but she released the porter, using his moment of unbalance as an advantage.
she slammed her hands into his chest and he slid, crashing to the train roof floor, gun clattering to the floor as she fell on top of him. 
you dove for the gun, hand just almost closing around the handle of the thing before the porter twisted over with a surprising strength, dislodging Kate from his body, and pulled it from your grasp.
he gripped it tight, leveling it right to your face, finger on the trigger.
the noise that tore through Kate’s throat was guttural. “no!”
she launched towards you, two strong hands on your arms and pushed you hard. harder than you thought she could, and you tumbled backwards, spirling without direction into free air, and thudding to the forest floor.
something cracked and a numbing pain spread like wildfire from somewhere—your shoulder, body, mind. you couldn’t discern the source of pain, the metrical chug of the train roaring in your ear as it continued on without you.
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you woke with a start, breath hitched up in your throat. tears stained your cheeks.
you didn’t remember crying. your whole face felt numb. in fact, your whole body felt numb, save for the throbbing, searing ache in your shoulder. along the joint, there was a numbness at your fingertips and an unpleasant tingling that ran up and down your arm.
groaning, you strained, trying and failing with great effort to move. you tried again and felt a lace of panic when your stiff body wouldn’t move.
is this what it feels like to die?
desperately trying to move when your body wouldn’t budge?
that sent a burst of sparkling energy through you, and you managed to twist your good shoulder, fingertips digging into the ground to push yourself up. your muscles strained with effort, shaking, but they failed with a spasm, and your head fell back into the dirt.
your temples throbbed.
looking up, you noted the darkening dusk of the day. it had been just noon when you were on the train—how long had you been laying there?
there was a cool blue tinge to the air, the moon cresting over a cloudless sky. an unmistakable shiver went through you. the temperature was dropping by the second.
you had felt the same at home. the desert air lacked a single drop of humidity to maintain the sweltering heat of the day at night, and it was the same here in this california forest, though less pronounced. the result was a plummeting temperature.
the thought of home gave you comfort as you lay there in the dirt.
then, you heard a crunching nearby. of feet. boots, perhaps, and you craned your neck back.
a large, black form loomed in the distance. you wanted to be scared, wanted to be panicking in the moment, but a muffled layer of silence was laid over you like a blanket, a ringing in your ears.
at that moment, you just wanted to sleep.
eyes half-lidded, a masked face slid into your blurry vision overhead. his arms coiled around you, very, very gently lifting you from the ground.
“Ghost,” you gasped, a sharp stabbing in your shoulder that contended with the darkness that threatened to pull you into a slumber.
he just shushed you, the sway of his body rocking with each of his steps along the railroad track.
you didn’t have enough energy to say a thing, forehead throbbing, feeling like there was an invisible band contracting around your head with every movement.
“you’re freezin’,” he said in your ear, but it resonated somewhere very distant.
he curled you closer into his chest and that made you jolt back to life from the sharp sensation racing across your shoulder, biting down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. 
your vision went hazy for a long moment, ears ringing with a muffled dizziness. the pressure in your head warped when you were being lowered down, to what you assumed, might’ve been the forest floor, leaning you back against something solid and hard and cold.
you gasped when you felt his bare fingertips skimming across the skin of your shoulder beneath your blouse.
he just tutted, muttering something in your ear. you tried to hone on it, but it was so distant and muffled and hazy.
then, he was turning your head from side to side and pressing a cool hand to your forehead. you winced when his hands came back to your shoulder, rubbing over it, one hand to the front and the other cradling your shoulder blade.
he twisted your shoulder with a sickening pop, and you were violently dragged back to your senses.
you bit back a loud scream, keeling over at the waist, everything pouring into your mind at once. the rushing and chitters of the forest, the prickly, dry pine needles beneath your legs, the icy rock at your back, and the acute shadows the moon was casting through the holes of the canopy.
it was too overwhelming. groaning, you screwed your eyes shut and slid down the rock to press your ear to it, your good arm to the other ear.
Ghost’s voice was still too loud through the makeshift covers. “dislocated shoulder,” was all he said, hand tapping against your knee lightly.
his hand stopped tapping. “you hit your head hard as well.”
he reached behind your head and pressed his fingers across your scalp. when he found a sensitive, swollen spot, you squirmed away.
“s’just bruised. no blood.”
you felt like there was blood pouring from your ears.
he pulled you toward him and carefully drew your hand from your ear, replacing it with his gloved ones.
“better?”
there was a pleasant, cool muffle over your ears—pleasant enough to open your eyes.
two earthy brown eyes stared back overshadowed by a strong blonde brow and pale skin—
you yelped, scrambling back onto the rock.
Ghost’s outer masked layer of red was vacant from his face, leaving behind the black fabric beneath it. torn rough, he pulled up the remains of it to reveal the skin of his neck, jaw, and lips.
it left little to imagine. the fabric sat on a high, curved bridge of his nose, and the deep-set of his dark eyes made them appear larger than you believed with the red shell of his mask—owlish almost. and then there were the handsome, strong brows furrowing at you.
he just blinked before inching forward in a crouch, covering your ears with his hands again.
your voice was swollen raw, sounding entirely unlike your own. “your mask…”
he was half-maskless.
“it broke,” he offered with a shrug and a very blank look.
Ghost was half-maskless.
his leather palm sneaked around your ankle.
“how’s your ankle?”
“fine.” you were lying. you couldn’t feel anything save for the painful pulse in your shoulder that throbbed in time with your head.
he nodded but the twitch of his lips made it look as though he wasn’t convinced. peeling back his trench coat, you watched as he easily tore through the sleeve of his dress shirt from his arm.
your breath hitched as he slid forward to wrap it around your shoulder.
“what are you doing?”
“returnin’ the favor.” 
you thought back to two nights ago, when you had clutched at the bullet wound in his stomach, ripping off your own sleeve to desperately stave off the red deluge rushing from it.
he had wanted you to leave him for dead that night.
you stared up into his profile, captivated by the plains and curves of it, a slithering heat running circles in your chest.
when he was finished with the bind, wrapping it around your bicep, up over your shoulder, and tugging it tight with a loop around your breast, he had sat back on his haunches, watching you with quiet eyes.
you watched the pink of his lips twitch, his hands curled into fists at his knees. there was a menacing cold circulating through you, and the softness of his eyes, his face, his lips radiated a warmth—
there were a thousand things running through your mind—
instead, you croaked, “what happened on the train?”
he sighed, turning his gaze from you to the dark forest. “we convened with los vaqueros in yuma before boardin’ the train Kate arranged. the owner of the railway company owed us a debt and we—” he cringed, “—we thought we could trust ‘em. turns out, Turner’s men were on the train with us the whole bloody damn time.”
you swallowed hard, feeling even colder. shivering, you drew your good arm around your body. “the porter?”
he nodded. “a fight broke out after brunch. thought it was just some stupid squabble but they drew guns and hell broke loose.”
he pitched forward, hand coming down to loosely clutch at your knee. “i couldn’t find you.”
you pulled back from his touch and his brows pinched together before falling impossibly blank.
“what were you doing with Gaz?”
you gave him a sidelong glance, fighting back the pout that spilled onto your face. “he proposed to me.”
Ghost stiffened, falling back to his haunches. you cocked your head, watching the stoney look on his face.
“and what did you say?”
you scoffed. “none of your business.”
that’s what you wanted to believe, but it seemed that Ghost had one foot in your business at all times, and you didn’t know if you liked it or not.
the absolute image of indifference in his face had a low, simmering anger crawl up your back.
“he doesn’t even like me,” you hissed, remembering the way Gaz would lean away from your touch in the boxcar, stepping back when he felt too close.
you lamented deeply, wondering, why would he want you to marry Gaz?
Ghost’s voice was even. too even. “he’ll marry you if i ask. he feels like he owes a large debt to me.”
your breath hitched, a hot, tight feeling choking your throat. “do you always exert yourself over others like that?”
his voice turned icy, eyes narrowed. “like what?”
you almost snarled. “you’re using Gaz to your advantage—”
“you don’t know Gaz,” he snapped, before adding in a low timbre, “or me.”
his words shouldn’t have hurt you as much as they did because you knew that he was right. you almost knew nothing about the man in front of you. he was an imperceptible enigma you’d only met five days ago, and yet you felt as though you knew him better than anyone in the world, all his tell-tale habits, the facade of his stoicism, the warmth beneath…
it was nothing like the cold, sour feeling curling in the air between you and Ghost right now.
with a humph, you clambered to your feet, an angry immaturity brewing above the grief that pinched at your nerves. he didn’t move from his position on the floor, eyes hard and staring.
you hiked up your skirt ungraciously and began to move in a random direction in the forest.
“what are you doing?” he called from behind you. there was a satisfaction hearing the annoyance lashing in his tone.
“i’m sorry, sir, but i don’t know you,” you gritted back loudly, not even looking over your shoulder. “i don’t talk to strangers.”
the forest was tipped deep into the night now, a murky dark surrounding you. it was hard to make out the stretching, slithering forms of the underbrush that swayed in the breeze. but you were too angry to feel scared.
after a long bout of silence, and several more bounds of your indignant act, your anger waned into worry.
what if Ghost did leave you in this forest? he was giving you up to Turner as soon as you reached san francisco—because you were useless to him now. so what was stopping him from just leaving you to the darkness of the woods?
to the coyotes?
you shivered, and allowed yourself a glance over your shoulder. you shrieked with a jolt at the sight of him looming just a couple steps behind you, looking impossibly large in the stretched shadows of the forest, and moving with an eerie silence.
he huffed. “what? did i scare you, princess?”
you whipped your head back in front of you, hiking up your skirt higher to step over a log. “sorry. i don’t know you.”
“so stubborn,” he mumbled, and you shrieked again when he wrapped an arm around your waist to hoist you over the log with ease. you swatted him away.
“i can do it myself,” you griped, turning sharp on your heel in another direction. he just sighed, trailing after you, steps noisy against the twigs and pine needles underfoot. 
when he knocked his boot against a tree, you could tell the noise was purposeful—making sure not to scare you. it didn’t quell your anger any less.
“do you even know where you’re going?”
that was a stupid question. no, you didn’t.
“yes,” you said instead.
he made a noise between a grumble and groan. “i didn't mean for Gaz to propose so soon.”
that made you stop dead in your tracks.
“i wanted…” he trailed off. you didn’t want to look at him for fear that he may see the tears welling in your eyes. there was nothing but the rustling woosh of leaves streaming through the canopy.
you jolted when you felt the tip of his nose press into the back of your head, voice impossibly deep. “he’s younger. he’s polite. he doesn’t care about purity.”
you heard him swallow. “he’s a good man to marry.”
you screwed your eyes shut, feeling a bothersome wetness come down your cheeks. “that’s not your decision to make.”
his voice was gruff, raw. “i know.”
sighing out, you turned to him slowly, finding a morose and withdrawn scowl twisting his face. he swiped a thumb over your tears.
“how would i have even married him anyway?” you asked in a low tone, surprised by the ice of it. “you would’ve handed me over to Turner the second we landed in san francisco.”
speaking it aloud yourself made the reality of it so much more crushing than hearing Kate say it that morning.
“to keep you safe,” Ghost hissed, eyes flashing with a clenched jaw. after your train escapade, you recognized the expression as something bordering on panic.
“safe?” you scoffed, “with Turner?”
he just shook his head. “Turner’s men outnumber us. with your parents, you’d at least be protected—”
you lurched forward, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt, shoulder aching in protest.
“with Turner!” you articulated, voice rung through with frustration. “i would be his mistress. he could… we would…”
the suggested words went unsaid and Ghost’s flashed—this time with something dark and imperceptible.
“i would kill him before it even got to that,” he said, mouth drawn into a hard life, deadly serious as he grasped your hands on his collar.
“and then what? after the war is over, i leave my parents again and Gaz sweeps me off my feet?” you pressed, trying and failing over and over to pick apart the expression on Ghost’s face.
your anger deflated, words falling flat and soft. “where would you go? back to southern california?”
he just stared at you, and you felt your heart drop. “Ghost? where would you go?”
he looked away from you, fixing on a distant point, and pried your hands from his collar. “i don’t plan on making it that far.”
oh. you gazed at the vacancy of his eyes, the clench of his jaw. he wasn’t planning on making it out the war alive.
your skin felt hot all over, and you lurched forward to jab a finger in his chest and make him look at you. 
“to hell with that.”
but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “it doesn’t matter now. you won’t be going anywhere near Turner.”
now, he pinned you down with a hard look, and you reeled back a bit. “what?”
“the porter,” he chewed out, brow furrowing, “he was trying to kill you.”
your mind whirled. that’s right—you remembered what he said, tears in his eyes when he cornered you at the end of the train.
he said he’d kill me and my family if i didn’t do it.
he had obviously been Turner. you swallowed, remembering the next slew of his words.
but i can’t let my daughter die.
he, a pullman porter with an inadequate paycheck, had risked everything, including his life, for his daughter. you couldn’t say the same for your own father.
you held your forehead, feeling the throbbing pulse of it through your fingertips. “why would Turner want to kill me?”
desperately, you trained every fiber of your mind to run through the notion, coming up with absolutely nothing in the end. you balked. that almost never happened.
Ghost’s thoughtful silence seemed to mirror yours.
but he just huffed, brushing a knuckle to your cheek briefly. “you’re a smart girl. i’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
rolling your eyes, you pushed his hand away, a tugging ire in your stomach. “so what now?”
he turned on his heel, giving you a lax look over his shoulder. “we walk to san francisco.”
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it turned out that Ghost was a lot more hurt than he made you believe. you had walked a mile through the dark, led by his broad shadowed form and, with the practiced strike of a match, a torch he coaxed to life until you returned to the divide in the forest where the railway drove a split through the plains.
its pathway was ignited with moonlight, and you walked in silence, nothing but crunching gravel underfoot, till you reached a freshwater lake embedded in a softly swaying field that lingered a couple hundred feet from the railway.
Ghost had stripped the bushes of gooseberries and currants along the way, giving you a brief grumbling explanation—we used to eat ‘em during the spanish-american war.
you could imagine Soap and Gaz popping them in their mouths as gawky teenage boys, laughing along the way and a quiet, stoic Simon in their tow. 
you ate them slowly, watching Ghost set up a fire with an ease to the task but with strange shuffling movements whenever he turned. you cocked your head. he wouldn’t twist his body.
“Ghost,” you called, and he didn’t even look at you. “why are you moving like that?”
in your stupor through the forest, or maybe the low lighting of the night, you hadn’t noticed it before. using another one of the matches stowed in the breast pocket of his trench coat, he bent down and blew on the small flame, blooming it to life over a nest of tinder. when it crackled and popped, and he added bigger branches to the fire, you moved closer, shivering in the dark, and spread the collected berries over an unsoiled rock.
your jaw clenched. “Ghost.”
he ignored you again, instead stepping back from the fire and turning so all you saw was the shadow of his back as he discarded his trench coat. then unbuttoning his vest and shirt, he shucked them off, tossing them to the ground by his other clothes. you gasped at the mottled, purple swell of his bare back.
from the bottom of his shoulder blades to his lower back, he was covered in bruises.
“is it bad?”  he looked over his shoulder at you. you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
your mouth fell open and then closed. “yes. very.”
then he turned, and the fire illuminated yellow and green bruises littered across his ribs and the angry red, puckered stiches across his lower abdomen. your stomach dropped. they looked worse than the last you had seen them—on the bed in the train.
he brushed a knuckle over his ribs and winced. “i think they’re broken.”
you looked up at him with a pinched expression and he raised his brows, mouth twitching with a huff. you hated that he looked amused.
“worried about me?”
you turned to the fire again. “no.”
there was more rustling from behind you and an unmistakable clink of a belt. you screwed your eyes shut and willed yourself not to look back. there was a thud against the grass by your hand, and you looked down to see his boots discarded by the fire. you saw his foot just behind it and a bare calf that turned and padded down the slope to the small lake.
you wanted to scream. “what are you doing?”
he called out, “care for a swim, princess?”
you narrowed your eyes. no, you didn’t.
“it’s improper for men and women to bathe together.”
you just barely looked over your shoulder, watching him in your peripheral. his naked back shone in the moonlight, a white glow cast over the bruises and scars of his back before it slowly descended into the water. he reclined against some rocks, arms spread wide and head lolled back.
“lots of things between men and women are improper to you, princess.”
a strangled noise of frustration left your throat. “what if your stitches get infected?”
he shrugged. at this point, a sliver of the darkness in you hoped they did get infected for not heeding your warning.
standing to your full height, you turned to him, looking over the expanse of the lake, and then the darkness of his lazy eyes trained on you.
you watched him swallow, blonde lashes illuminated by the firelight, he spoke considerably softer, “you looked lovely this morning.”
that morning, when you had dolled yourself up, a pretty, airy skirt and flowery blouse and makeup and all, telling yourself that you wanted to look like the sun after such an awful night. maybe it was for yourself, or maybe it was for Ghost. the latter you would never admit.
but now, you realized, more than anything, the act was for your own bout of revenge. to watch Ghost’s face twist at the sight of you—someone he couldn’t have.
you, who would never let him have you again.
at that thought, you gave him a pretty smile like you were bashful, and the way his eyes widened in surprise was a crush of satisfaction.
but you kept up the act, intent on playing with him. if Ghost had taken so much from you for revenge, you didn’t see why you couldn’t do the same. the idea had a twinge of displeasure curling under your skin. but thinking back to last night had you angry all over again.
“i’m still angry at you,” you said instead, crossing your arms and turning like you were mad. in all technicality you were. 
very.
his voice was low. “you’ve got something on your face.”
what?
“what?” you voiced, head whipping to him.
he cocked his head. “your hair too…” he squinted like he was trying to see you better. “it’s a mess.”
you scoffed. this was not going according to your plans.
“well i’m sorry i don’t look my best after falling off a train—”
“and your clothes too.” his dark eyes raked over your body. “all ruined.”
you looked down at the state of your clothes, torn in places and stained in others. the hem of your skirt was a very discolored smear of brown.
“looks like you’ll have to take them off,” he said with a casual shrug.
your jaw dropped open. “you…”
you searched for the words you couldn’t find. “you’re awful.”
with a nod he said, “just as bad as the devil.”
narrowing your eyes, you gave him a sidelong look. was this another one of his revenge ploys? another way to get you undressed and take another sliver of your innocence?
he shifted on the rocks, arms spread along the wide berth of the bank, and beneath the water you saw his knees tip wide. he cocked his head at you.
an invitation.
of which you could easily say no to, if you liked, but just as much as he tried to trick you, the devil wasn't foolproof. you could weasel your way into one of those cracks and trick him instead if you wanted to. and in that moment, you decided you did.
with the calmest look you could muster, you took off the makeshift sling of your shoulder, and unclipped the back of your blouse, sliding it from your torso with ease and letting it fall to the ground. between the laxness of your face, you glanced at Ghost who, you noticed with disappointment, looked absolutely undisturbed until your gaze trailed down his exposed arm and to the clutch of his hand in a tight fist.
suppressing a smirk, you dropped your holster, then the delicate pink skirt and moved to unlace the back of your corset. you undid it as fast as your aching shoulder could let you, watching the way the warm glow of the fire danced in his black eyes.
the corset fell to the ground, and his head was perked up now, eyes going impossibly dark, as you pulled down the last of your undergarments—completely bare in the moonlight.
but his eyes never left yours, didn’t even look down to your body, as you stepped carefully forward over the pebbled lake bank, heart thundering in your throat. you kept your hands in fists to keep yourself from covering your body, shivering when a gust danced over the field.
as you sank into the water, you were surprised to find it not so unbearably cold, avoiding Ghost’s gaze entirely as you neared him, close enough so that you could feel his foot brush against your calf under the water.
he looked up with hooded eyes, chin close to his chest, breath shallow and wanting—
but you waded right past him to a spot on the rocks a good distance away. you were close enough to see his eyes narrow in your peripheral. 
“what are you planning, princess?”
you shot him a glare. “i’m still mad at you.”
he cocked his head. “are you trying to tease me?”
you sucked in a breath entirely by accident, and you knew it was the most telling answer in the way he shifted over the rocks with an infuriating smirk.
feeling bitter, you asked with a sourness, “are you still trying to bed me for revenge?”
he went completely still at that and you turned your head away from him, looking over the field into the forest. in the distance, those mountains loomed on the horizon, looking like a large void that spearheaded the sky. you tipped your head back, clutching onto yourself, and looked up to the stars that splattered like bright, white paint over the sky.
like the white paint you had splattered over the pale blue wallpaper of your room when you were child, and your mama had lost half of her mind at the sight.
that thought only soured your mood more. there were tears in your eyes now.
biting back a string of unholy curses, you tucked your head away, really hoping Ghost wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was when there was a moving rush of water as he stood
you could hear him near you, till he was standing over your crumpled form, his hand brushing along your neck.
“can i?”
you should’ve said no. absolutely not.
your plans to fool the devil had gone absolutely wrong. you glanced up at him, the softness of his face, his big hand moving to brush over your injured shoulder. 
you should say no.
with your curt nod, he sank down into the water beside you, and pulled you flush against the warmth of his body, and you just melted into him, your arms curled against his chest, shoulder aching in reply.
you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, embarrassed when wet, warm tears slid from your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and jaw to his skin.
“your ribs…” you sniffled, trying not to lean so hard against his torso when he was practically crushing you to him. but he only wound around you tighter, pressing some of your hair to his face.
your heart ached at the familiar gesture.
“so you are worried about me then?” his eyes glinted but the sullen look on his face quelled any humor in them.
you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth. “i’m always worried about you.”
when there was a long silence, you felt him tap your nose lightly.
“what are you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?”
your mind flashed with more images of your mama. “my mama.”
he hummed, digging his nose in your hair. “tell me.”
you sucked in your lower lip between your teeth, draping yourself over him with an ease. “my mama used to get so mad at me all the time.”
you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “i used to paint on the walls in my bedroom when my nanny wasn’t there and my mama was busy. it drove her crazy.”
“yeah?” he smoothed his thumb over your cheek, and you opened your eyes, finding yourself cradled in his arms and the tip of his nose inches from yours, dark gaze lapping over you in warm waves.
you wanted to drown in them.
“you have pretty eyes,” you told him, feeling your eyelids droop. “kind of angelic.”
he huffed a laugh. “i thought i was the devil?”
“you only want me to think that,” you said dreamily, losing a whole reign of control over your tongue, “satan was an angel once too.”
he pressed his lips to your ear.
“so what’ll it be? devil or angel?”
“s’up to you,” you whispered, clutching at the wet planes of his muscled chest, “are you going to use me for revenge?”
“no,” he said immediately, though his voice was calm. “not again.”
you weren’t exactly sure if that made it any better. 
you could hear his bated breath—the way it was shallow, and sharp. he turned his head away from yours. you caught a glimpse of his blonde lashes curling from the shadow of his black mask.
“what are you hiding from me?”
it was a question you knew he wouldn’t answer as he helped you up from the cold water, wrapping an arm around your bare waist and leading you back to the fire. he just stretched out, completely bare, over a big flat rock embedded in the bank, and orange glow over his skin, and pulled you down to nestle into his side, letting the waves of heat emanating from the fire settle over the both of you like a heavy blanket.
his hand came down in featherlight touches over the curves of your body, trailing up the back of your thighs, to your back, to your neck where he pressed his lips. then his fingertips spidered across your wounded shoulder.
his voice sounded fragile. “i’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”
even you? you wanted to ask, tracing the pleasing curves of his face with your gaze.
you brushed your knuckle along the strength of his jaw, the curve of his nose, his lips…
he just peered at you with dark eyes, blinking gently, pressing the most gentle kiss to the corner of your lips that had you falling into another slumber.
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Ghost watched your eyes flutter close, waiting till your breath went deep and even, before he even tried to pry himself away from you.
it was hard to not stay. the inviting warmth of your body warmed his cold heart.
he watched the swell of your chest rise and fall, brushing a hand over the softness of your abdomen. the fire light danced across your peaceful face, the plushness of your parted lips, your hair…
god he loved your hair.
but he pulled away, carefully shifting you in a comfortable position over the rock, where you curled up in his absence. he sat up, wincing from the slide and crunch of his ribs beneath his skin, the sore thrum of the bruises up his back, and listened to make sure the lull of your breath was still even and calm.
then, he tore off his mask and balled it up in his fist.
what the hell was he doing?
he inched further away from you, putting a marginal difference between your bare body and his. but you shivered and something inside him jolted with a stupid, muddled flurry.
quickly, he reached for his trench coat near the fire and laid it over you, feeling a full, fuzzy feeling when you stopped shaking. it was strange. he couldn’t put a single word to the feeling but he knew it was something foreign, something dangerous…
something he couldn’t afford.
but your soft voice was always running circles in his head, and it echoed back out to him.
are you going to use me for revenge?
he sighed out long and hard, tapping his balled up first to his forehead. more of your voices clambered into his weak mind.
do you always exert yourself over others like that?
liar.
i hate you.
liar, liar, liar.
liar, liar, liar, liar—
and you were right. you were almost always right with that brilliant mind of yours, he thought with a twinge of wonder.
Ghost was a liar. he was lying to you, and he was lying to himself most of all. and he knew it too.
“liar.” the word was becoming melded into your tongue. “you want to use me for revenge. is that all i’m useful for, then?” your throat cracked open, wide and full of emotion. “i’m just for your revenge? did you bed me for revenge?”
his gaze was half-lidded, tired. “yes.”
why had he lied like that?
he watched the side of your peaceful, youthful profile. he allowed himself to reach over and wrap his trench coat around you snugger, content when you exhaled deep, and stroked slowly at your hair. you looked so young. too young.
why had he lied like that?
he knew why. but he didn’t want to admit to that either.
instead, he picked himself up, muffling a groan as his stiff body worked itself to move, and kicked his clothes into a pile over the dirt. then, he reached for your own and folded them neatly into a pile by the fire to warm them by the time you woke.
maybe, he thought to himself, trying to be a sliver of an honest man, if he told you that you were right and that he was a liar, you would forgive him. 
or maybe he would have to beg on his knees for your sweet forgiveness until the day he died.
he wouldn’t mind.
he jolted at his own thoughts, beating them down till they were a silent pulp in his mind.
he knew he wasn’t going to make it out of this war. that knowledge only soured the feeling unfurling in his chest, every thump of his dead heart aching with effort. 
Turner was gunning for him and only him at this point—he was the brand mark of one-four-one. the mask was a tell-tale sign of who he was. even if, in the beginning, it had only been to preserve his anonymity, it ended up becoming an infamous emblem that became an endlessly useful tool of intimidation wherever he went—for business or more violent affairs.
he took a knife sheathed in the outer pocket of his trench coat, making sure not to wake you, and pressed his mask to the rock, cutting out the lower torn portion of it so that it was only half the piece of fabric it was previously.
maybe when he had lied to you about his true intentions one night ago, even if he wasn’t thinking, he knew it’d be easier to break your heart if you hated him. 
because he knew if you didn’t hate him, you’d never leave his side, and he wouldn’t be able to protect you like he wanted to when Turner killed him, and you’d be left…where?
hopefully as Gaz’s bride, he thought morosely.
he couldn’t forget what you said last night—i would’ve been married.
even if he knew that was your own lie, if that was what you wanted, he would give that to you as best as a dead man could.
because the truth was—
you were precious. like porcelain glass. all those nights ago, when you first laid together, he was never planning on touching you. even when he first took you, he was never planning on touching you. least of all for revenge.
not even when he first saw your pretty eyes go wide at the sight of him walking into your daddy’s saloon, in that beautiful blue skirt of yours and the loose clutch of your blouse exposing an indecent amount of your dewy skin when you leaned down. not even when your hands trembled, body just shivering in his proximity. you told him you weren’t scared. he didn’t believe you until you gave him everything that first time.
now, he chided himself for taking anything at all. hated himself for it even. he wanted to be…
dead.
he ruffled at his matted hair, screwing his eyes shut before pulling back on the mask. everything in him quieted—the confusion, the thoughts, the circling endless regret having him bite at his own tail.
it wasn’t one-four-one’s plan to get you personally involved in their lives. when you showed up at the base, it was like you had single-handedly wedged the knife of your innocence into the bottled up lot of them, and pried the can wide open. John, Kate, and Soap adored you. and Ghost had seen the way Gaz looks at you.
or at least he thought that he had. maybe it was his own jealousy contorting his thoughts.
jealousy, he cringed, flipping the knife in his hands, why would he be jealous?
the rustling in the woods answered him, and he twisted around on his haunches, ignoring the stabbing pain blooming into his lungs, and watched something prowl out onto the far clearing of the field. a long snout furrowed deeply at him, and the coyote drew back its upper lip, fangs glinting in the moonlight with a growl.
Ghost only stared back, gripping at the knife tightly, leaning forward onto his fingertips to cover your sleeping form with his body, muscles bunched to spring forward at any moment.
the coyote only crept forward a bit more, lapping at the very edge of the water at the lake, before retreating backwards, ears flattened to its head as it disappeared into the shrouded darkness of the treeline. its tail was tucked in between its legs.
maybe even coyotes were afraid of the devil.
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the next morning you woke, Ghost was up, dressed, and fiddling with a knife in his hands. he was perched on the rock beside you, staring off into the horizon and looking pensive which was… uncharacteristic of him.
the fire was put out, embers still burning as a trail of smoke wafted up into the thin morning light.
your stomach growled.
Ghost’s head turned down to look at you and he pushed back the hair from your face with just his glove fingertips. “hungry?”
you nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed, and shifted to sit up beneath his trench coat with a shiver. the rock beneath you still felt a tad warm from the fire last night, but it had cooled, leaving your bare backside feeling numb.
“here,” Ghost offered, shifting in that awkward movement of his to keep the pressure of his wounds, you noticed with a twinge in your heart. he gestured to an array of things spread out over the far rock by the far littered with the berries he collected last night, now coupled with pale looking tubers.
you rubbed at your eyes with a yawn. “you cooked last night?”
he nodded. “wild parsnips.”
they were peeled and cut carefully off the top. he gave you an expectant look, and you supposed he thought you would take them, but instead you shifted over the rock again, shivering with the breeze at your back.
“can i change?” you asked meekly, and he blinked.
“‘course.” he handed you the pile of your clothes folded neatly by the fire, and with a blush, you noticed they were warm.
had he done that on purpose?
“thank you,” you said, looking up at him with a smile, but he just looked away with an indifferent huff, poking at the parsnips with his knife.
he turned his back as you redressed in your ruined clothes, rebounded your shoulder in the sleeve of his dress shirt to the best of your ability, and joined him for breakfast. you split the berries and parsnips into groups—trying and failing to give him a larger portion to compensate for his muscled stature and severe wounds, but he pointedly refused without so much as a bat of his eye and a deep scowl, and when you pressed, he ignored you entirely.
when you both finished a portion of the food, he kicked over the fire and made sure the embers were doused, before you set off across the plains back in the direction of the railway. Ghost told you, from the last time he checked with the conductor, that the train was fifteen miles from san francisco.
you’d be walking the whole day, sure, but it was better than you could’ve hoped for. testing your shoulder with a swing, there was still a sharp ache to it, and you winced, ignoring the side glance Ghost gave you.
you were worried more for his wounds anyway.
about two hours into the trek, you could hear the rasp of his breath and the shallow nature of it. his hands clenched and unclenched by his sides.
“Ghost,” you called, “i think you should take a rest.”
you weren’t even surprised when he chose to ignore you. 
“Ghost,” you repeated, rephrasing your words in a careful deadpan, “i’m tired. i want to rest.”
at that, he stopped with a curt nod, and you both moved to sit in the grassy bank by the railway. he sat with a stiffness and slowly stretched back out over the incline of the slope, hands behind his head and eyes closed. you sat with your chin tucked between your knees beside him. you knew him too well to see that he was playing pretend.
“Simon.” he jolted at the word. “let me see your ribs.”
he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips in a stale line. “they’re fine, princess.”
you rolled your eyes, moving to do it yourself. he hissed with protest when you began to unbutton his vest and you shushed him with a harshness that had him falling silent. you undid his dress shirt next and pushed the fabric aside, gasping at the sight of them.
it was worse. much worse. the strange patches of yellow and green bruises stretched over his rubs had become darker, more pronounced, and a swollen, madly red purple. looking down to his bullet wound, you almost wanted to faint.
it was bright red—angry and puffy with a crust of yellow goop around it. you gasped again.
“Simon this looks—”
infected.
he just stared up at you. the absolute indifference on his face had you balling up your hand in a fist and smacking him lightly over the head with it.
he flinched, reeling away from you with a scowl. “what was that for?”
“your lack of desire for self-preservation irks me,” you shot back, and settled over his hips with your thighs in a bind around him. you could feel him stiffen beneath you.
“i told you it’d get infected if you swam in that lake water.”
very gently, you traced your hands up his torso, and with a twisting impulsiveness, you leaned down to kiss the swell of chest, pressing down into its brawn. then you kissed up his neck, his jaw, his cheek.
maybe each kiss would make him better like in those books you used to read as a child.
he huffed out, and you looked up to meet his half-lidded gaze, swirling and dark and tinged with a lazy hunger. “are you teasing me again?”
you blinked up at him, and he reached down to press a thumb to your lower lip.
“i’m distracting you. is it working?”
he smirked. “too well, ” he hummed, before sighing out, “you’re too good to me, lovely.”
you nodded. “i know.”
pitching forward, you gently pecked that silvery scar on his upper lip and he jolted, breath going more shallow than before. when you leaned back, watching his expression with a fit of anxiety rolling around in your stomach, you watched him lick over his upper lip like he was tasting you.
the jittery feeling in your stomach turned into something else entirely.
“quit bloody teasin’,” he chided, pulling you back down to him and pressing his nose to your ear, face smushed against your hair.
you bit back a snicker and rubbed at the back of his neck. typical Simon.
so easy to please, so easy to make him surrender. 
usually, an ill-tempered voice in you said, flashes of the coldness of his tone, face, body on your bed in the train seeping into your mind. 
remembering yourself, you pulled away and stood again. he watched you with an owlish blink—a look of confusion and question that you chose to ignore as he pushed off the ground to trail after you and back down the railway.
for the next couple of hours of aimless walking, nothing eventful happened, save for Ghost randomly brushing along the edge of the forest, poking around amongst the foliage. you shared few glances and even fewer words, but that didn’t make it uncomfortable. 
in fact, as you eyed the side of his handsome profile, black trench coat fluttering softly in the wind, you wanted this to last forever.
right now, you were just two people in the woods. no war. no gangs. no guns. no violence.
even if he had hurt you.
you stepped closer to him, catching the fabric on the back of his elbow, but he barely even glanced at you when your hand slid down his forearm and pushed shyly into his hand. he easily swallowed your hand in his, lacing your fingers together tightly and squeezing.
later, he pulled out a couple of leaves from the inner pocket of his trench coat and offered them to you. mint, he had explained, chewing on the herbage, it staves off hunger.
you would need it by the time noon came and your stomach was growling again. you both stopped by the tracks to finish the last of the berries and cooked parsnips, chewing more mint Ghost picked from the underbrush of the forest.
the glare of the sun had waned by the time you reached the afternoon, and the railway seemed to stretch on forever, sloping over hills, cutting through landscape, till the trek flattened and the woods drew even tighter to the railway, trees towering overhead.
finally, you reached a crossroads in the railway, where a paved road cleaved through the woods, and on the horizon, revealed a sprawling skyline of buildings—smoke billowing above it, and a strange sort of humming raucous drifting across the terrain.
the sound of it made you apprehensive, and you eyed the hazy gray film in the air. you had never seen such a large town—city, would be better perhaps. you stopped in the road.
Ghost’s shoulder brushed your own. “what’s wrong?”
you squirmed with discomfort in your spot. “what is that?”
he squinted at the horizon. “s’a city.”
just as you suspected. but it didn’t make you any less reproachful. “i’ve only seen them in picture books,” admitted, sniffing the air. “it stinks.”
he gave you a twisted smile. “you should see manchester. my father used to work in the factories.”
your eyes widened, and he just kept walking, leaving you scrambling to catch up. “your father?”
he nodded. “my father.”
“and where is manchester?” you pressed, prying for more out of him, as you peered at the side of his face which was trained on the road ahead.
“england. s’where i grew up.”
you snuck your hand into his again. “did you have siblings?”
his grip stiffened around your hand. “an older brother. Tommy.”
your mouth opened and closed, watching the way his shoulders were tightened now. he obviously didn’t want to talk about either of them, you thought weakly, mourning, and instead changed the subject.
“what was it like in manchester?”
he glanced at you. “dreadful. i never want to go back again.”
“besides…” his thumb brushed against your palm. “i have everything i need in america.”
you nodded slowly, trying to chew that information, and desperately wanting more.
from behind, a growing assortment of noises approached you quickly, the clopping of hooves at your back, and Ghost drew an arm around you as he pulled you off the road. a horse and buggy bumbled down the road with a friendly looking coachman in the driver’s seat. 
he had a scraggly white beard and a fray of white hair strewn over his balding head, a big toothy grin, and a beet, splotchy redness to his entire face.
“hullo there!” he called, slowing his horses as he neared. Ghost’s arm went tighter around you.
“hello sir,” he said with a politeness you didn’t know he could have.
“s’a beamin’ day, is it not?” the man’s eyes mosied up and down your body but not in a rude way. you suddenly felt embarrassed by the state of your clothes and crossed your arms over your torso.
Ghost shook his head. “it’s been awful.”
“oh?” the man leaned in, apparently unperturbed by the mask covering half of Ghost’s face. “pray tell, what happened to you folk?”
“we were comin’ down the same path as you last night,” Ghost said, tipping his hat to the place down the road. “and a couple of coyotes came out of the woods.”
you stared at him. coyotes?
where did that come from?
“scared our horses half to death and they went ballistic. tipped over our buggy and everything and galloped off into the woods.”
the man gasped, spluttering. “heavens! how can i help you kind folk?”
Ghost paused like he was apprehensive. you cocked a brow at how easily the act came to him. “well, we were just trying to make our way to san francisco.”
“well i can do that, no problem!” the man said, scooting over his buggy to make more room. “i’m headin’ there right now to visit the ol’ missus.”
“Ghost,” you whispered, feeling a panic when he pushed you forward gently. “can we trust him?”
“unless you wanna walk another two miles, lovely,” he shot back, though not unkindly, as he dipped his head politely to the man in the buggy.
hesitating, you stepped forward towards the thing.
“this yer lovely missus?” he said with a friendly smile, and Ghost nodded.
“my lady.”
you wanted to smack him.
“howdy, ma’am,” the man said to you, offering a polite hand to shake. you stretched up to the buggy and took it with a tight-lipped smile.
“nice to meet you, sir,” you said, voice coming out weaker than you intended and he only grinned wider.
“well climb on in!”
you hesitated. it was only a two-person carriage, and Ghost might barely be able to squeeze into the space left that the other man left. looking back at Ghost over your shoulder, he just squeezed your waist softly, and slid around you to step up into the buggy himself.
rude, you thought with a huff, but only realized his intent once he was settled in the thing. he spread his arms as an invitation, one hand held out for you to climb into his lap.
his raised his brows at you. you looked from him to the beaming man beside him, something twinkling like knowing in his beady eyes, and you bit back a sigh, taking Ghost’s big hand and letting him pull you onto his lap.
you sat on one of his broad thighs, his chest flush to your back. he snaked an arm around your middle and kissed your cheek softly, hand still intertwined with yours.
you dug your nails into the glove of his palm in warning, withering in his arms, and wholly enjoyed it when he winced. 
the man beside you sighed out but it sounded happy. 
“oh, i remember the days when i just married my missus!” he said dreamily, hitching the horses with a snap of the reins.
Ghost chuckled in your ear, and you sent him a scowl over your shoulder when the other man wasn’t looking, but he only smiled wider, pulling the hair from your shoulder to kiss the back of your neck.
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you stood on the edge of the street, bidding the kind stranger goodbye as he drew away from the sidewalk, hitching his horses down the wide san francisco avenue.
entering the city had been an enigma for you. it was even stranger now.
people littered the street. too many people. your mama had let you go to a bigger town now and then near your home with the girls from church, but never too far. she had said it was the role of your future husband to expose you to such harrowing conditions.
standing in the midst of one of the largest cities on the western coast, you could better understand what she meant. women and men sauntered down the road in tight-knight groups, business men in three-piece suits and bowler caps shot past you, and a slew of buggies blundered down the streets that Ghost guided you through.
some peered weirdly at the mask but most didn’t even care to notice at all—didn’t even look up from the point they were trained on getting to. 
in all honesty, you found their behavior quite rude as they passed you.
watching a woman in a pastel, flowing dress with pearls adorning her ears and neck, and silk gloves drawn to her elbows, she had her arm linked with a man with a well-trimmed mustache and pristine suit.
feeling strangely exposed, you inched closer to Ghost and linked your arm with his as well. you looked up at him with wide eyes, a whine building in your throat.
you were uncomfortable. very. very uncomfortable.
he huffed, taking your arm in his. “city life overwhelming you, princess?”
you nodded blearily, wincing when a man almost brushed against you through a tight pass on the sidewalk. you had never been flanked by so many people.
“what about Turner’s men? what if they recognize you?” you whispered out, curling closer to him, and he just shook his head. 
“they won’t without the mask.”
right. you had become so accustomed to the revealing nature of his black mask that you had completely forgotten about the broken, bloody skull layer of it.
you passed through more blocks, buildings scraping the sky so high that you felt dizzy and small. 
you craved to be out in the wide array of the demanding western landscape again. you wished you were still walking along that railroad, chewing mint leaves, and your hand in Ghost’s.
eventually, the skyscrapers dwindled into crumpled, shorter, dingy buildings and the avenues tightened into busy marketplaces. but it was different than you had ever seen before.
men wore linen suits—in grays and blacks with small hooped knots down the front—and bowlers caps. some women wore dark blouses with loose sleeves and low collars that gleamed in the evening’s light, curling with patterns of clouds and the fine leaves of bamboo, and flowing bright skirts over heeled shoes that looked binding.
Ghost watched your face closely, and you slowly turned in the spot. you had never seen a culture that wasn’t of your small western hometown before. “where are we?” you asked him, voice tinged in awe, and he put a hand to your lower back and led you down the busy market street.
“this is chinatown,” he said, and you just nodded slowly, trying and failing to digest it all.
“why are we here?” you pressed, and Ghost pushed you further towards a big brick building at the end of the road that dwarfed the dingy places beside it, a throng of people swarming in front of it.
“Turner’s men won’t come here,” he explained, seeming utterly casual. “they think the bubonic plague’s still lingering.”
you stiffened. “plague?”
he nodded. “it came through san francisco in 1900. it’s been gone for years but Turner doesn’t think so.”
“why not?”
he gave you a sidelong look but his voice was soft. “why do you think, lovely?”
feeling saddened, you gave him a meek look and he just smiled, brushing your cheek with his knuckles briefly. “smart girl.”
when you entered the building, there was a reception at the front and a large folding divider with intricate ink brushes over its surface shrouding the rest of the narrow establishment from view. the interior was extravagant—tipped in gold, marble, and lush patterns and a stark disparity to the image outside of it.
there was a tinge of something sweet in the air, a hazy smoke drifting through the place. you wrinkled your nose.
a man came from behind the folding divider in one of those linen, knot-button suits, hair shaved close to his head, with a big smile and a gold tooth. at the sight of it you went cold.
he spoke in a language you couldn’t understand—taking in its foreign inflections with a feeling of awe, and hearing the word Ghost between the slew of his words.
it startled you when Ghost spoke back in the same swinging rhythm. staring at the side of his blank face, he just ignored your burning gaze.
suddenly, the man turned to you with a slick smile, eyes crawling down for a long moment before crawling back up. the hair on the back of your neck bristled. 
“good evening, ma’am,” he greeted in a gentle accent, “how can i help you?”
Ghost braced against the desk, speaking low and fast in that language. the man’s eyes went dark, but that slick smile never left his lips. then, he grinned, gold tooth flashing, before he gestured with his arm to the intricate divider.
“please follow me.”
Ghost’s grip on your waist was tight as you followed the man behind the divide, walking down a dim, but equally decadent hallway. you jolted away from one of the doors—there was an intermittent bang and shout from inside of the room.
a splinter of fear cleaved your heart, and you shot a look at Ghost before he just urged you forward without so much as a glance. 
“here is your room,” the man offered generously, waving his arm to a wooden door with an intricate carving over the front.
you muffled a gasp at the sight of the girl standing beside it. she must’ve been only a few years older than you, with milky skin and long black hair that came down her slim frame like the brush of swirling ink. the crimson dress she wore wasn’t constricting at all, and exposed so much skin.
from the elbows to her wrists, her ankles, calves, and knees, you could see her bare skin. you averted your eyes immediately, fumbling with your hands, but her gaze was solely trained on Ghost.
he wholly ignored her as the man shooed her away with a rude gesture and fast words. her dark eyes flashed, sending Ghost a nasty look, and then you, before turning on her heel and marching down the hallway.
the man handed Ghost a key and you followed the broad, masked man into the room, quickly shutting the door behind you. the strange, elongated noises from the hallway was diminished now. sighing out with relief, your breath hitched when you noticed the intricacy of the room.
there was a low-lying bed strewn with pillows and rich draperies. the room was littered with different wooden furniture pieces with ornate carvings like geometric mazes in the chairs, wardrobe, canopy bed frame, and sunken table in the far corner of the room. you observed the rolls of paper hanging from the walls, the vases covered in gleaming blue brush strokes, and the dim lamp overhead with red tassels hanging down from its silver sheath.
Ghost sat at the edge of the bed with a crumbling sigh, kicking off his boots. your heart sunk, cringing at more of the gentler noises wafting through the door.
“where are we, Ghost?”
you had a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t like it.
he cleared his throat, sending you the most apologetic you had ever seen on him. “a brothel.”
you spluttered. “a brothel?”
he had brought you, a good, christian woman, to a brothel?
you did a quick prayer, closing your eyes and clasping your hands together, murmuring under your breath. you could hear Ghost move from the bed and pad closer to you, impossibly silent. 
you ignored him, continuing to pray, as he wrapped his arms around you, impossibly warm and comforting, and tucked his chin into your neck.
“i’m sorry.”
you jolted. opening one eye to look at him, two of his own peered back at you.
you shut your eye, ignoring him and continued to pray in low murmurs. he pressed a kiss to your neck, another i’m sorry falling from his lips. and then another and another wherever he kissed across your neck, jaw, cheek.
you could get used to him saying that. 
it was his warm breath across your lips that startled you back to the present.
when you opened your eyes again, hands still clasped in a bind at your chest, he leaned forward, clothed forehead pressing against your own. 
“i’m sorry.”
a trickle of something muddled dripped down your spine. a new suspicion pricked up in you.
“about what?” you asked, working your jaw slowly.
he buried his forehead into your neck, speaking softly. “about lying to you.” 
your brow quirked.
“about the brothel?” you asked, feeling confused, and he stiffened against you before nodding slowly.
“mhmm.”
that muddled feeling was back again. was he lying about what he was lying about?
you snorted at the thought. that muddled feeling told you he was probably apologizing about a lot of things at the moment—what, exactly, you couldn’t discern. there was a lot to choose from.
“i’m still mad at you,” you said with a tenderness, brushing across the back of his neck with your fingertips.
he just nodded again with a hum.
a much darker furl of despair in your stomach said that this may be the last time he would say sorry to you.
you didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or tonight even, as the hazy dusk settled outside the carved windows. when would the war break out? where was one-four-one and los vaqueros? why had he brought you to chinatown? why a brothel?
when would he be leaving you again?
would he be dead in the next couple of days like he kept promising?
your silence must’ve been telling because he sighed out across your skin and untangled himself from your body and led you to the edge of the bed where you both sat.
your brows rose expectantly as he shifted over the bed and took off his hat, putting it down. you took it into your hands to have something to fumble with as his hand came to the length of your hair, playing with it in between his fingers.
when his silence was too long, you cocked your head. “tell me, Simon.”
it was more of a command than anything.
he rubbed a hand over his jaw with a curt nod, but he wouldn’t look at you. “i know the owner of this establishment. he owns a brothel chain in san francisco. for the night, we’ll be safest here.”
your hands paused, glancing up at him. “you do business in prostitution?”
the relief that bloomed when he shook his head came as a surprise. you released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“an enemy of Turner is a friend of mine,” he said decidedly. “so i learned mandarin.”
you changed the subject. “so what about one-four-one and los vaqueros? where are they?”
“we’ve got a base but it’s across the city,” he said, scratching at his neck, not revealing anything further. you didn’t really expect him to.
“when will you see them?” you asked, sullen.
what you really wanted to ask was: will he take you with him?
“tonight.” his hand dropped from your hair. “only rich politicians come through here. you’ll be safe. i promise.”
you closed your eyes. that was that.
you didn’t really know if you wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say.
“then, you and i will reconvene with them tomorrow. together,” he said, the pad of his thumb brushing over your closed eyelids.
you took a breath of relief. you could work with that.
“and the war?”
his eyes were dark, swirling. “i don’t know. i’d rather stop it before then.”
and still get the revenge one-four-one promised?
you cocked your head. “how?”
the corners of his lips twitched and your brows rose. “it’s a surprise, princess.”
you groaned, exasperated. “no more surprises, Simon.”
“will you allow an awful man to fix a date with you, lovely?”
you gave him a bitter look and his smile only grew. “what makes you think i want you to court me?”
he slowly slid off the bed and you watched in amazement as he kneeled in front of you, hands on your thighs.
“what do i need to do?” he asked softly, eyes wide and beseeching. 
you were in awe at the sight of him—on his knees in front of you, broad body bowed down. you looked over the plains of his masked face, and all that was revealed beneath it. his pale skin, littered with scars, and the silvery one on his upper lip, that blonde brow and tall nose, his telling dark eyes.
you blushed. “more than that.”
“how about this?” he offered, stretching up to kiss the tip of your nose.
“more than that.”
“this?” he kissed over your jaw, down your neck, lips warm and soft and wet when his tongue slid out, sucking at the flesh of it.
“more,” you whined, feeling hot all over when his hands expertly came to unclasp the back of your blouse.
it was perplexing in the way he could strip away your facade in mere seconds, melt the stubbornness from your shoulders, and evaporate any reign of control over your intent to be furious with him.
he had you completely bare in seconds and all your ruined clothes in a pile on the floor, pushing you back onto the soft bed, and then it was his turn. he stood up and undressed in front of you, and you watched with a greediness, that familiar dark, needy pulse between your thighs.
you pawed at that ache, feeling relentless, and his pupils blew wide, hands flying to get out of his clothes.
swallowing, you tried to not let the shame consume you when you dipped your hand beneath your thighs, and touched that spot for the first time. his hands fumbling with his belt stuttered to a stop.
experimentally, you dragged your fingertips against its wet softness, gasping when it came in contact with your clit. it was a little nub that swelled against your fingers, fluttering in time with the pulse of your heart in your throat.
you kept your eyes on Ghost, fighting the droop of them, when you started to circle around it like he had. a pleasure bloomed through you, and you gasped again. curious, you jerked your hand faster, and the intensity of it only spread, through your core, dipping into your stomach, and you thought you saw gold.
with a loud moan, you realized you never knew that you could make yourself feel so good.
you jolted when Ghost let out a guttural, low sound, and pitched forward, pressing his knuckles into the space beside your head, towering over you on the bed.
“you touchin’ yourself, pretty thing?”
you whined with a nod, his words only spurring you on.
when he reached down to grip your hand rubbing against your cunt, you hissed. “no.”
“no?” his brows shot up, eyes searching yours.
“no touching. just watch,” you commanded, deadly serious, arching into your own magical touch.
the sound that left his throat was in between a groan and a whimper, and it made your hips buck up, a whine tearing through you in response.
he sat back, hands twitching against his thighs, and a painful looking swell in his pants, you noticed, but you were perfectly content with the way you were touching yourself.
rolls of aching sweetness unfurled through you.
“are you teasing me, princess?” he asked, head tilted and voice incredibly deep, the swell of his chest fast and breathy.
“mhmm,” you whimpered, slowing your hand painfully so, then quickening again, gasping when a thick wave of pleasure poured over you and swept you into a distant haze. 
“s’your punishment—” you went even faster, “—for bein’ an asshole.”
he groaned at that, leaning down to kiss your bare ankle, and you hissed, pushing him back with your foot to his shoulder. the look he gave you was steeped in such an obvious display of desperation that you almost wanted to give in.
“let me do it,” he rasped, leaning forward to tower over you again, hands by your head, but still not touching.
“no.”
he leaned down to your ear. “please?”
you whined, bucking into your hand, feeling the edges of your vision fade and flutter. you were getting closer to that telltale, delicious, precipice—but frustratingly, it still felt so far away.
“no,” you whimpered, and you chased that edge desperately.
he licked over his lips. “struggling, pretty girl?”
you shook your head, whole body jolting when a new flare of intensity coursed through you. it was almost too much, and suddenly, you wanted to take your hand away.
you looked up to the man perched between your legs, his bare muscled torso gleaming in the dim light, and the sharpness of his jaw spurring you on.
he cooed, “you sure you don’t need my help, pretty thing?”
sniffling, you mewled, feeling defeated when you pulled your hand back, your sensitive clit twitching in response to the cold air that filled the absence where your hand had just been.
Ghost hummed, looking positively pleased at your surrender, and he tentatively brushed his fingertips over the softness of your inner thigh.
“may i?” his eyes were dark and malicious, and a shudder of something bordering on fear slithered down your spine as you squirmed against the blankets.
“please.”
he lurched forward, and you squeaked in surprise when one of his arms slid beneath your back, the other beneath your thigh, as he threw you further up the bed.
“shoulder?” he asked softly, though his hands were rough as he positioned you the way he liked, pressing the back of your thighs up so that almost touched your chest, legs lolling over his shoulders.
you could barely feel anything in your shoulder—all the blood had pooled to your cunt, pulsing with a wild, aching need.
“please, Simon,” you said instead, grabbing his shoulders and pushing them down to where you needed him.
but he was too strong. much stronger thank you, as he pinned your wrists to the bed. 
“answer me,” he said, voice thick and dark, and you whimpered.
“s’fine.”
“you sure?” he breathed over your cunt and you whimpered.
“y-yeah.”
he hummed. “we’re going to do something different today.”
that piqued your interest, pulling you from the muddled haze of your mind. he splayed a big hand over your stomach, pressing against it, the rough pad of his thumb reaching down to rub lazy circles over your clit. 
you melted back into the bed, a deluge of relief coursing through your veins. you think you could come just like this—Ghost leaning over you, sucking the skin of your neck, whispering low murmurs into your ear, and a circling pressure growing against your clit. you think you could mostly because it was Simon.
“Simon,” you whined, and his eyes snapped to yours, turning warm and buttery when he kissed your eyelids.
then, you felt something circling the entrance of your core.
a confused hum left your lips, and you looked down to see his other hand spreading his fingers down the slick of your entrance.
“what’re you doing?” you asked, sliding a hand over his.
“do you trust me?”
your breath hitched, looking up into his hooded eyes. you didn’t take a second to even think—
god, yes, you trusted him. you needed him.
“need you,” you whimpered, truthfully, and his eyes went even darker as he bent down to kiss your clit softly.
then, you watched him push a finger into you, swallowed up by your cunt inch-by-greedy-inch.
you gasped, arching at the new feeling of a stretch that felt… good.
“Simon?” you squeaked, and he just shushed you gently, kneading at your breast as he sucked on your clit, pinning you down as you squirmed.
then, he began working the finger inside you, rubbing against your gooey inner walls, and then he was pressing in a second finger, and that delicious stretch swept you away into a haze.
breathy moans were torn from your throat and you could do nothing to stop them when he curled his fingers, pressing even deeper and against something that had the sweetest feeling unfurl deep, deep, deep inside you.
“Simon!” you mewled, feeling your climax approaching quicker than ever as he fucked you open with his fingers, his lips wrapped around your clit, a sinful squelch harmonizing with the breathy tones of your voice.
your whole core convulsed, clenching, then—
he stopped.
your chest fell in rose in heavy pants, that delicious edge receding slowly. picking up your head up to look at him, your brow furrowed when you found him just staring back at you.
whining, you picked up your hips to press your swollen clit to his plush lips, but he just shifted back a bit so the tip of your nub barely brushed his lower lip.
he cocked his head with a malicious smirk.
“you’ve been teasin’ me for days, minx,” he said, eyes so empty and cold that you shivered. he slid a hand over the goosebumps of your thigh.
“at the lake. today by the railroad.”
he began pumping his fingers again, slowly, and you whined, trying your best to grind down on it so the tips of them would find that swollen place in you that felt heavenly, but he just pulled his hand back every time you pressed down.
his eyes darkened. “touchin’ yourself in front of me like i’m not allowed to do anything about it.”
“please,” you whimpered, and the smirk dropped from his face.
“you’re not allowed to come until i say so, pretty thing.”
a shockwave went straight through your tummy at the words, eyes blown wide with shock. you didn’t know why those words made your heart drum harder, the slickness between your thighs feeling unbearable with the way he just slowly fucked you with his fingers.
you wanted more. you wanted him deeper. something bigger.
his fingers brushed over your clit, and you jolted. “ready f’more?”
“mhmm. please, Simon.” your voice was a keen, and you whined louder when he completely pulled his hand away from you, feeling desperately empty, but he just grabbed your hips and flipped you with ease onto your stomach.
he pulled your hips up, one hand smoothing down your back so you were arched, arms braced against the soft pillows. it was a strange position, left you feeling awkward and exposed, but he pressed a soft kiss to your injured shoulder and you ignored the throb from the weight it bore.
then, he slid off the bed and you heard the clink of his belt, something dropping on the floor, before the bed dipped again, and then silence.
looking back at him, you blushed at the sight of him just shamelessly staring at you in the position.
“Simon!” you chided, curling out of the position before he gripped at your hip tightly with a sly smirk, pushing you back down into the arch with a low rumble of protest.
he crowded over the back of you, settling down over your body, and pressed you further into the bed, his warm chest flush to your back and knuckles pressed to the space next to your ears. you gasped when something warm, sticky, and hard brushed along your inner thigh.
he stroked a hand along your neck, words a throaty whisper in your ear. “comfortable, lovely?”
you felt him press himself against your soft slit, the thick head of it pressing against your clit. 
it felt hot, big, throbbing, and—
you gasped, a cracking dawn of realization washing over you.
“it goes…?” inside.
your whole body shook in anticipation, a strange muddle of fear and desperate want making your hips press further back into him.
he hummed, kissing your neck. 
“figure it out, pretty?”
“mhmm,” was all you could get out, wiggling yourself against him in impatience, and he just gripped your hips tightly.
“inside,” you retaliated, and he huffed in your ear, the curve of his smile pressed to your hair.
“needy girl. you don’t even know anything about this,” he chided, a hand coming down to rub at your clit, and you squirmed with relief.
“what do i need to know?” you squeaked, grinding against his fingers.
“it hurts.” your movements slowed, suddenly feeling apprehensive.
“it hurts?” you looked back at him from over your shoulder, his eyes only inches from your own where his lips were against your shoulder.
his stopped moving. “mhmm.”
you reached down between your legs and gripped at his wrist, willing him to move again.
“i don’t care. i can take it.”
he smiled against your shoulder.
“im sure you can, but save it for your marriage.” his words were hushed, and you just frowned, a ball of frustration building in you, arching back into his touch.
“i don't want anybody but you.”
he went stock still, and you swallowed hard, feeling an edge of unease bubble up between your desire. you wished you could see his face but you didn’t dare look behind you.
his hand slid away from your core again, leaving you wanting and cold. but you took a breath of relief when he didn’t move away, only pressed his body down into you harder, the heady weight of him a pleasant pressure.
“i guess you’ll just have to wait till we’re married then.”
the breath was stolen from you, and you fought to whimper out, “no. now.”
“that’s improper, lovely,” he whispered, dark and throaty, hot tongue licking over your ear.
he slid his hips forward between your thighs, and you felt his hard length glide smoothly over your cunt, catching against your puffy clit, ripping a gasp out of your throat.
your eyes drooped shut. “don’t care.”
“so bratty. can’t you let me court you first?”
you grit your teeth, fighting back the breathy noises from the back of your throat, as he thrust forward between the hot clutch of your plush thighs.
“no,” you moaned out, letting his hands guide your hips in a slow roll over him, your cunt clenching with every movement.
“even when i’m being so nice to you right now?”
“you’re being mean,” you whined, pushing back against him, meeting the snap of his hips with a string of breathy gasps as your head fell forward.
he snaked a hand into your hair and pulled, tugging you back over his sticky length with every thrust. you felt the telltale beginnings of a rolling, sweet burn stemming from your clit to the rest of your body that you needed to satiate.
“please,” you begged, and he hummed, curling an arm beneath you to play with the sensitive swell of your nipples, holding you close to him as you jolted with each brush of your clit.
“wanna come?” he asked softly, and you nodded eagerly, feeling the first waves of your orgasm pulling you under—
then he pulled his hips back, pushing you back down to the bed, and you almost sobbed at the loss of friction against your core.
he leaned down to coo in your ear softly, “what’s wrong, princess?”
that desperate, squirming ache in your stomach melded into something angry.
“stop teasing me!” you snapped, sending him a teary-eyed look from over your shoulder, jolting when his eyes snapped up to yours.
his face was hooded—lustful, pupils blown wide, and dark with something sinister you’d never seen before.
“stop teasing?�� he growled, pushing his hips forward between your thighs again, your clit twitching against the tip of him. “like how you were teasing me earlier?”
you whined as he began rolling his hips, the combined slick coming down your legs in a sticky, mixed muddle, and gasping when he hooked his arm beneath you and pulled you up so you were leaned back against his chest—his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder.
you grabbed at the back of his neck, a pleasurable pain gliding across your skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. a dark, slithering heat tightened that inevitable knot in your tummy when he slid a big hand up and wrapped it around your throat.
“bratty girls get punished. didn’t church teach you that?”
the moan you let out was downright sinful, breathy, and left your throat raw and aching, as you clawed at his hand around your throat, trying and failing to anchor yourself to anything.
he pitched forward, grabbing at your hand and pinned it down to the bed beneath his, intertwining your fingers tightly, and you watched his length between your thighs leak white pearls that glided down your skin with every heavenly thrust.
“are you gonna be good?” he whispered out, and you nodded eagerly, a slew of little whimpers and begs falling from your lips like a breathy flood.
he purred a sound of approval. “i know you will. bein’ such a good girl lettin’ me fuck your thighs like this.”
“yes, Simon, i’ll be good, i’ll be good—”
god you were so close—
“pretty girl. my sweet girl. you’re mine.”
his growled words guided you right through those convulsing shudders and a hot, searing haze welled up in your throat—tears pricking in your eyes from the intensity of it.
you only realized that Ghost came too when you felt ropes of something warm and thick splashed against your cunt and inner thighs, his groans a pretty song right by your ear. 
he practically crushed you to the bed, his warm, sweaty body pleasant against your skin. you stayed like that for a long time, listening to his deep breaths, a tickling drip down your spine—the after-effect of your shared pleasure.
you never wanted the sensation to leave you.
you searched for Ghost behind you and came into contact with his shoulder, then grabbed at his neck, and he hummed contentedly, sliding his arms beneath your stomach, pressing fleeting kisses to your shoulder and neck.
you squirmed, giggling at the ticklish sensation, but you were trapped there, and he only kissed you more with a soft smile against your skin, up to your ear, your cheek, before he leaned back to turn you over.
you looked up at him, his brown eyes warm and lips twisted in a wry smile, and curled your arms around his shoulders to pull him back down. he settled between your thighs, cheek pressed to your breast, and you scratched at the back of his head lightly like your mama used to do to make you fall asleep after a bad nightmare.
he practically purred, sinking further into the big bed, his arms winding back around your middle.
his voice was a raw rasp. “does this mean you’ll accept my request?”
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile on your face. “where are we going for a date?”
he inched up your body so he braced his forearms beside your head, the tip of his nose brushing yours. he blinked at you, face blank.
“don’t get mad at me, alright?”
you quirked your brow, sliding your hands up his shoulders, filling the dips and grooves of the bunched up muscle.
“what’re you hiding, Simon?”
he cocked his head. “it’s a social event.”
your brows rose. a social event?
you thought back to your daddy’s letter, such a strange and hazy memory now—i’ll round up my men and join the effort in two weeks time after we conjoin at the social. there, we can talk finances.
was that the same social?
you turned your cheek, giving Ghost a sidelong look. “the same one my daddy was talking about?”
you saw something flash in his eyes before his face became impossibly imperceptible again.
“how did you know about that?”
you snorted. “i snooped through your basement, remember?”
his brows rose, a very slow smile creeping up on his lips. 
you frowned at him. “what?”
he shook his head, grinning, “nothing.”
you dug your nails a bit into his shoulders. “tell me.”
“it’s just—”
he wouldn’t look into your eyes. he leaned down closer to you, lips against your cheek, voice a seductive, low sound. “your mind. i lust for it.”
your breath hitched. “lust for it?”
he nodded. “you’re brilliant. it’s sexy.”
you scoffed, swatting at his shoulder lightly, and a laugh rumbled through his chest into yours.
you wondered what he would think about your brilliant mind if he knew that you were periodically going through… mental struggles. you thought about something else instead.
“tell me what this social’s about.”
you watched him close his eyes, fingers fumbling with your hair. “Turner’s having a masquerade ball. somethin’ ‘bout going back to historical roots.”
your brows shot up. “and you want to go with me?”
his smirk was devilish. “who else? i was invited.”
now, your brow was furrowed. “why would Turner invite you?”
he shook his head. “he didn’t. it’s his way of having a little victory party over this war before it’s even really begun. s’basically an invitation.”
there was a bitter taste in your mouth.
“i thought you said i wasn’t going anywhere near Turner?”
he shifted above you, eyes open now, and hand still tangled in your hair.
“changed my mind.”
you scoffed. for Ghost, changing his mind wasn’t surprising. in the matter of Turner and you however…
“why’d you change your mind?” you pressed softly, meeting his buttery warm eyes.
he smiled, whole body going lax and soft against you. “last night.”
that didn’t clarify anything at all. when your jaw dropped open to reply, he filled the words in for you.
“s’just a stupid omen. there was a coyote. it was scared just at the sight of me, but i was more scared than anything.”
you stroked along the soft, warm skin of his back. “why?”
“because i wanted to protect you.” 
his eyes were wide and open, and you bit your lip, a new burning ache pushing up between your lungs.
“i promised i’d never let anyone hurt you again,” he said with a hush, pressing his forehead to yours. “i want you to be with me when you’re in danger.”
then, he slid down pressing his ear to the steady thrum of your heart. “just be with me all the time.”
a rush of sweetness poured through you. just be with me all the time.
you felt giddy, your grin big and making your cheeks ache.
“is that what you were getting all thoughtful about this morning?”
you remembered him sitting on the rock beside you, fumbling with his knife, face shadowed and faint with a furrowed brow.
he craned his neck to look up at you.
“you noticed, smart girl?”
you wanted to scoff. “i notice a lot of things.”
you drew lazy circles into his skin. “i noticed how you always like to fold my clothes. i noticed how like to put your face here—”
you pointed to the area where your hair pooled around your neck, and with that, he pulled forward to press his face to that spot with a contented hum.
you held the back of his head, feeling like you were in a hazy, surreal dreamscape.
had you really wanted revenge on him only a night ago? a few mere hours ago? did it really matter what his original intentions were with you when he displayed his feelings so clearly like this?
yes, a voice hissed out, leaving you feeling uneasy, but you beat it down so it wouldn’t cloud the blissful moment.
soon, he pulled away, shifting off of you, and slid off the bed to kneel on the hardwood floor again. the absence of him felt wrong—cold and too light. like you needed his heavy warmth to pin you back down again.
he gripped at your splayed hand from the edge of the bed. “will you go on a date with me, lovely?”
his question was completely simple and pure, but you found yourself wanting to tease him, lips twisting into a sly smile, enjoying the way he blinked in response, a bit perturbed.
“and what will we do on this date, Simon?”
you flipped over onto your stomach, propping up your head up over your elbows with your knuckles, in love with the way his blonde lashes fluttered against your cheek when your noses brushed. his lips were a mere breath away from yours.
“dine. dance…” he whispered, dark eyes flickering from your own to your lips.
his lips parted, head tilting. “maybe i can hold Turner down, and you can torture him to death.”
at that you laughed, pulling back away from him and curling onto your side into the sheets. he remained at the edge of the bed, grin wide and wolfish. once your fit of laughter stopped, you peered back over your shoulder with a hum.
“i’ll tell you what i decide in the morning,” you sang, sitting up, watching with delight as a curiosity burned in his gaze.
“did i not teach you well enough what happens when you tease me?” he asked, voice throaty, and you shivered, suddenly very aware of the exposed nature of your bare skin.
you shrugged. “guess you’ll have to remind me.”
his eyes darkened and you squirmed away from him with a giggle across the big bed so he couldn’t reach you so easily. his brows rose carefully.
“think i can’t catch you if you run away like that, bunny?”
a low, kicking thrum came back to life between your thighs.
“what are you?” you asked with a laugh, gripping at the sheets, “a wolf?”
he cocked his head in a predatory manner, words low and deep. “when i want to be.”
you shuddered and he just shook his head with an amused look, padding away from the bed to a door across the room. behind it was a bathroom, and he disappeared inside, the sound of running water accompanying you as you laid back down on the bed, reclining back into the soft blankets and even softer pillows.
the more you laid there, the more you could feel a growing, painful ache returning to your shoulder. it was stiff, hot and swollen to the touch, and you chided yourself for going so… rough in your intimate moment with Ghost.
but when he sauntered back out of the bathroom, footsteps eerily quiet, a damp washcloth in hand, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.
he helped clean you up, swiping away your shared fluids from your skin as his kissed the crown of your head with a tenderness. you reached for the cloth, grabbing his bare hip, and were about to return the favor when you were reacquainted with the battered state of his body.
the bruises had reduced but there were still a blotchy, purple mess, and his stitches were just as bad as before—that same dried crust around it. now, you really chided yourself, angry that you hadn’t taken a moment to take care of him before…
you wiped away any residue from his nether regions, before thumbing gently over that strong, muscled v-line of his hip.
“what is it?” he asked, touching a knuckle to the bottom of your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.
you blinked. “it’s really bad.”
his expression was blank. “honestly, lovely, i’ve had worse.”
“like what?” you pressed, and when his face contorted, you waved a hand.
“nevermind. don’t tell me.” you might be sick if he did.
“just please let me take care of you,” you practically begged, sliding a hand down his bare thigh as his eyes narrowed.
your frown deepened, trying to give him your best doe-eyed pout, and he heaved a sigh with a nod, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
you walked to the bathroom, casting a look over your shoulder to make sure Ghost was still sitting obediently at the bed, and when he cocked an impatient brow at you, you bit back a smirk as you entered the bathroom.
there was a big tub pressed to the corner of the room, and a wash bin where you rinsed off the wash cloth and grabbed an extra cup from the sink, filling it with water. you fished around the ornate cabinets, smiling in victory when you found a jar of vaseline pushed to the very back of a cabinet filled with sparse miscellaneous items. your mama had spread it over any injury of yours like an invisible gauze.
taking a moment to inspect your appearance in the mirror, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, you splashed your face with a bit of water and calmed your hair with your hands.
on the back of the bathroom door, you took the simple silk robe in a pale yellow pattern and tied it around yourself, walking back out to Ghost who was lounged back against the bed and still stark naked.
“has my pretty nurse come to my aid?” he asked, eyes half-lidded.
you just nodded with a sheepish smile, crawling over to him and dipping the washcloth in the water before dabbing at the stitches. you watched his whole body tense with a hiss, and then relax again, his eyes screwed shut.
“sorry,” you squeaked with wince, wiping away the yellow ooze around it. you bit your lip, brows furrowed as you looked down at the fleshy wound—red and swollen with a loose thread pulled through it. you pressed your fingertips to it and he jolted, jaw clenched. it was hot to the touch.
“it didn’t reopen, did it?” you asked sullenly, and his eyes barely fluttered open.
“i’d be bleeding if it did.”
with that, you spread the cool vaseline over it, and he sighed, sinking back into the bed. then, he wrapped an arm around your waist, and you muffled a squeak as he tugged you towards him into pillows.
his lips were against your hair. “shoulder?”
you pushed away from him with a hand to his chest, and he grumbled in protest as you moved to put your gathered medical supplies onto the nightstand.
“s’okay. kind of swollen but nothing like yesterday.”
the sound that left his throat was full of disapproval.
instead you changed the subject, turning to him with a hand on your hip.
“are you gonna change?”
his brows raised slightly, knees tipping wider as he picked up his head to look at you with a smirk. with a blush, you refused to look down at his bare, muscled body.
“nope.”
rolling your eyes, you clambered back into the bed and he tugged the silky robe loose from your body, and you just let him do as he liked as he positioned the both of you beneath the thick blankets. 
he pulled you into his pleasant warmth and you hummed, your cheek nestled to his chest and his lips against your hair.
the room was dim, a lulling quiet darkness over the room now, pitching deep into the night. you drew circles over his forearm cast over your waist.
“when will you leave?” you whispered, sullen, because you knew these tranquil, soft moments were dwindling with uncertainty.
he smoothed a hand over your back. “in a little bit.”
you bit your lip. “why can’t i come with you?”
he shook his head, and you closed your eyes, a pinched feeling in your chest.
“i have to do this on my own. you won’t be in danger here.” 
you thought back to what he said a mere moments ago.
“what happened to just be with me all the time?”
his words were soft. “you are with me all the time.”
you craned your neck to look up at him and he inclined his head against the pillows, tapping with a finger to his chest lightly.
oh.
“i think i’ve read about that in a children’s fantasy novel, Ghost,” you said with a cocked brow and he gave you a wry smile, then shifted to tuck his chin over your head.
“what happened to Simon?”
you closed your eyes. “Simon privileges revoked.”
he scoffed. “bratty.”
you smacked at his arm and he didn’t even move—like a big rock you could anchor yourself to. 
a big rock you wanted to anchor yourself to, except that he was always leaving it seemed. 
and when he left, would he actually come back as promised? or would he leave you to the streets of san francisco as you feared—without a use for you?
unless your use was turning up to Turner’s masquerade as Ghost’s lady for the evening in another display of their battle for… ownership.
at that you stiffened and Ghost roused against you, his even breaths hitching.
the question you posed was careful and calculating. “if i wanted to run away and never look back, would you let me?”
he went impossibly still at that. then, he pulled back far enough so you could see the grim lines of his face, even through the darkness and the shroud of his mask.
“yes.” the word was so strained it almost didn’t sound like his own voice. “i think it’d kill me though.”
you cocked your head.
“when are you gonna take that mask off?”
his eyes flashed. “full of questions are you?”
you nodded. “always.”
he looked away from you. “i can’t answer all of them yet.”
always hiding something from you.
“why not?” you pressed, and he frowned, taking up your hand to press to his chest.
“in time,” he whispered, kissing the back of it, before sliding out from under the blankets.
you gripped his wrist to keep him tethered to you, voice cracking wide open.
“did you mean what you said?” 
he cocked his head, eyes a placid coolness.
you swallowed hard “about courting me? about me being yours?”
your breath was shallow when you added, “do you really think you’ll die tomorrow?”
he stared at you for a long moment before sighing out, climbing back onto the bed and over you, leaning down to brush his lips against yours softly. you jolted with a gasp, straining up to kiss that silvery scar on his upper lip carefully. he was stock still, eyes following your movement with a familiar stoicism. 
“i will be back tomorrow morning,” he promised and you grimaced.
“will you?”
he nodded strongly. “before dawn.”
you curled an arm around his neck. “promise me?”
“honest to god.”
you winced, remembering your words from two nights ago.
how can you be honest to god?
as he redressed to go out into the night, you watched him to try and find any tightness in his movements. the stiff motion of his body looked pure and simple—easing off the pressure of his injuries.
there wasn’t a trace of apprehension as he slung his gun back into his holster, sheathed knives back into the layer of his trench coat, and put on his stetson, that silver skull pendant on its brim glimmering in the dull light.
but you had seen how easily he lied to the kind man earlier. 
how easily he could lie to you.
before he left, he pressed his forehead to yours, cool leather palm against your chest, and then to that spot where your hair and neck met, and then he stepped out into the hallway and the door shut behind him.
you twisted in the sheets, searching for a sliver of warmth that he had left behind. 
there was an emptiness in your heart when you couldn’t find it.
you couldn’t sleep almost the entire night—desperately waiting for when the sun would breach the horizon, and Ghost would crawl back into that space in your heart you left vacant for him.
the night steeped into an black sky, clouds drifting across the moon in splotchy patches. you fell into a half-slumber, perched between the soft pillows of the bed when there was a quiet thud from a distance. 
you startled, picking up your head and searching in the darkness in a sleepy haze.
“Ghost?” you whispered out, only a silence answering you, as a form materialized, prowling forward from the entrance of the room.
it was the girl with milky skin and an inky black hair, in that same revealing dress as before, skin reflective in the moonlight, and a revolver in her hand.
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important note: if anyone wants to learn more about san francisco’s chinatown in circa. 1900, here’s are two articles i found interesting: time magazine (bubonic plague) and history.net (prostitution & Donaldina Cameron)
that being said, i want to clarify that much of san francisco’s chinatown culture became characterized solely about prostitution, opium, and gambling in the media (movies, tv shows, etc.) because of racial prejudices in the 1900s. while i talk about those themes in this story, they don’t make up even half of the rich culture in san francisco's chinatown and i do not want to create that impression!!
ugh anyways i didn’t mean to make this chapter so angsty 🙁 it will get better i promise i promise i promise but thank you for all your guys’s amazing support <33 i hope you enjoyed this chapterrr <33 next up... character development 🌚
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mistydeyes · 6 months
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hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react
she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment
big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)
AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3
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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.
pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader
warnings: swearing
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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me." 
"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.
Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.
Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."
With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.
"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.
"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction. 
Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.
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