#with your fancy blouse
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FUCK
#i can't stand this man#pls#stfu how is he so fine#ugh#i hate him#i love him so much#the baby pink 7 string custom jackson#fuck off ivy#with your fancy blouse#his neck#his eyes#good gravy baby#iv#sleep token
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i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE
thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader
The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home.
The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean.
“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are.
“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!”
He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?”
“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.”
He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday.
Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so.
“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?”
“Am I ready? What did you want help with?”
You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.”
“You got me a cake?”
“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?”
“Will you sing?” he asks.
He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.”
You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin.
“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.
It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything.
He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.”
You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.”
Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.
“What?” he asks. “For what?”
“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.”
“The candles are perfect.”
You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?”
Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?”
“Good choice, handsome.”
His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Facade - Jeon Jungkook
Prompt: Your friend arranged you on a date with a BTS member. The catch is, you have to pretend like you’re not a fan.
Prompt request: HERE
Genre/tags: Fluff, strangers (?) to lovers, idol Jungkook, fan/army reader
Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader
a/n: I obviously don't know how real idol life works, let's just pretend this is how it looks like ok lol
“You did not just set me on a date with Jeon Jungkook.”
Folding your arms, you stood with your eyebrows knitted together, looking straight at your friend who in contrast had a big grin plastered on his lips. You bit into your sandwich, looking left and right, all skeptical about people overhearing your conversation. The guy in front of you then repeated his sentence again just to humor you.
Undoubtedly, you did not hear your friend wrong. Man really just set you up with the one and only Jungkook from BTS. Being a set stylist in Big Hit and all, it came as no surprise that he knew the boys, but you did not know that he was that close to the point that he could introduce them to you personally. In fact, you were never aware of how close your friend was with them until now.
While it was true that you had told your friend, although mostly jokingly, about how you wanted him to introduce him to someone, you did not mean this. You did not mean introducing to the guy whose songs you literally had in your Spotify wrapped.
“Felix, you can’t be serious, how??? I don't think I have anything to wear???“
“Here’s the catch.” The guy said sternly, putting down his chilled drink. “You have to pretend like you don’t know him.”
You looked at your friend as if he just turned into a fish. The sentence he blurted out just sounded ridiculous.
“Okay, okay, I’m aware of how unbelievable that sounds. Obviously, everyone knows who he is. All I’m asking is for you to at least pretend to not be a creepy fan.”
“I’m not a creepy fan.” You looked at your friend, pretending to feel insulted.
“You took a picture of his Calvin Klein poster at the mall last week.” He argued.
“That doesn’t count, I was asking about the location.”
“You mentioned something about rock-hard abs…”
“Okay, fair.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not one of those sasaeng if that’s what you mean.”
“Duh, I wouldn’t have suggested this if you are.” He rolled his eyes back at you. “The other's been teasing him about relationship stuff and your face popped up in my head." He sneered. "When I showed him your picture, he seemed to be interested.”
Your eyes widened. “Which picture of me did you show to him?!“
“Doesn’t matter.” He dismissed you. “But you’re somewhat of a fan, so you must know that he’s mentioned that he doesn’t date fans.”
“I’m aware.” You sighed.
“I think that’s bullshit to be honest, he’s just saying that for safety purposes. So army wouldn’t fight over him and stuff?” He chuckled. “But just so he won’t get put off on the first meeting…”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“You sound discouraged.”
“No, I’m beyond ecstatic, it’s just that…” You stopped to sip your drink. “I don’t know, the idea of lying to his face just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“You can tell him later if the date goes well! It’s just so he won’t run away on the first meeting…”
You frowned, contemplating for a good moment. “Alright fine, but you have to help me with the outfit.”
“I got you covered, girl.”
**
That was how you ended up waiting in a private room, at restaurant way too fancy for you, sitting down awkwardly at a table that has a paper written “Reserved for Mr. Jeon” on it. Out of nervousness, you kept fixing the non-existent crease on your blouse, the one Felix helped you choose just the day before.
Felix was the one who drove you there, since he knew the place and both of you basically talked with him as a bridge in between. Your friend did mention the possibility of your date being late, due to the fact that he could not just enter the place from the front door like normal costumer would.
Just around six minutes of fidgeting your fingers, you heard a light click from the door handle and you quickly straightened yourself up. Honestly, you wished he came even later, cause you were nervous as heck. Thank heavens for the good air conditioner or you'd be wetting your outfit with sweat.
And so there he was, walking in full slow motion before your eyes. He was walking in casually, so effortlessly. Running his fingers through his black, slightly permed locks, he closed the door behind him and you swore his black blazer was swaying in an animated way. There was a shine in both his eyes and lips. You were definitely wearing a pink tinted glasses and you were fully aware of it.
“Hi, you must be Y/N.” He flashed a bright smile and took a seat. “Sorry I’m late, had to make sure no one saw me and all…”
“Don’t sweat it.” You said, trying not to sound breathless.
“You’re very pretty by the way.” He grinned. “Like, actually better than the picture Felix showed me.”
“Thanks…” It was impressive how you manage to not stutter while your heart was doing a backflip. “You look great too… I mean I’m sure you get it all the time.”
“Don’t even.” He laughed. “I look great cause we have a team of professional makeup artists on stage. Today though, I’m just Jeon Jeongguk in the flesh.”
You wanted so badly to hit him because there was no way this man really just said that his no makeup face was anything but gorgeous.
“Anyways!” The guy exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let’s order? I’m starving!”
“What do you recommend here? I’ve never been here before…”
“Oh, I’ve never been here either. I just asked Jimin-hyung to recommend me a good place for a date…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I figured it would make a good first impression.”
“You could just ask me out for a tteokbokki and I would’ve said yes.”
Wait, you didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Jungkook’s laughter filled the room suddenly, which taken you by surprise. “That sounds awesome, we should totally get some after this!”
You couldn’t help but to smile as well.
“Felix told me you’re a copywriter?”
“Ah yeah, I am. I mostly work for social media stuff.” You explained as you flipped through the menu. “I kinda want to indulge in writing music but I don’t know where to start…”
“You should definitely try it!” He said in excitement. “I didn’t get to actually write my last album since the company decided to go full English, but I’d like to, maybe for my future releases.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“I can introduce you to my writers and producers if you want?” He looked at the ceiling for a second, pondering. “Have you listened to my song “Seven”?”
As a matter of fact, you had memorized the song lyric by lyric, but you couldn’t just tell him that.
“O-Of course.” You cursed secretly for stuttering. “It’s everywhere, don’t act like that song didn’t top the charts.”
“Right…” He said, grinning while looking away from your eyes. “I mean, I could introduce you to the writers if you want.”
“There’s no need, I’m sure I can learn a thing or two from you.” You looked at him, testing the waters.
“Or that! I prefer that, honestly.” He laughed.
Dinner went extremely well. You were surprised at how at ease you were with him. He was fun and easy to talk to. He was talking about every dish in a very passionate way, which you found endearing. You share the same movie taste as him, which did not really come as a surprise to you, but it absolutely did to him. His eyes were practically glowing talking about the upcoming Deadpool movie.
The guilt of pretending still lingered in you and you couldn’t just simply ignore it. No matter how comfortable he made you feel, you kept feeling on edge, scared of the possibility of spilling something you’d rather him not to hear.
“So, are you still up for the tteokbokki?” He asked after giving his card to pay. “I mean, we can’t just eat them on the street like normal people cause you know…” He sighed, raising his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you can’t just…”
“I’m sorry, it sucks.” He smiled sadly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but… I guess it’s just a small price to pay.”
There was a very clear hint of disappointment in his voice, and you felt awful. “I’m so sorry.”
“Wait, I can just tell my driver to drop by so we can get some and I don’t know, eat in my car? Unless you wanna eat in my place which sounds bad, I don’t think you’ll be comfortable knowing we just met—“
“Jungkook, it’s alright.” You assured him. “We can just get them next time.”
“There’s a next time then?” He said with an eager smile.
You blushed. “Of course. I had fun…”
“Okay… phew!” He exhaled comically and you laughed. “You know, I’m glad I came today.”
“Me too.” You smiled.
“Can I have your number?” He said with puffed cheeks as he bit the inner side of his mouth. “It’s not exactly convenient to talk via Felix.” He chuckled.
After exchanging phone number he offered to take you home with him having a driver as the argument. You refused, but mostly because you didn’t know if you could handle being in a close distance and such small space with him yet. Your heart could barely take his boyish grins and cringey jokes. You certainly needed more getting used to.
Your friend was so gonna get an earful about this.
Maybe you’d treat him food too as a thanks.
**
“So?”
“I’m in trouble, you don’t get it.”
Your friend laughed out loud while you sighed and palmed your face.
“Aren’t you happy that it went well?” He snickered, eyeing the unopened notifications from Jungkook popping up in your phone. “He even texts you daily, don’t you know how busy he is?”
“He still doesn’t know that I basically have his album at home.” You groaned, slumping into the table. “Albums! And his posters… his light stick…” You ruffled your hair in frustration.
“Relax, he clearly likes you! Look at those puppy eyes emojis he sent you.”
“How am I suppose to tell him now?!” You looked at your friend in disbelief.
“I’m sure he’ll understand, you just gotta find the right timing.”
“That’s easy for you to say cause you’re not the one dealing with it.”
“Shut up, look…” Felix took your phone and shoved it in front of your face.
“Are you free this Saturday? Let’s watch a movie!”
“Oh my god???” You snatched your phone instantly, eyes fully open.
And so here you were again, somewhat dolling yourself up for a mere cinema date. You did not step out before video calling your friend and sending the view casual outfit option you had.
This time Jungkook insisted on sending you a driver to pick you up, mentioning how it was safer and more convenient for you that way. You felt a bit weirded out by the treatment but you guessed it was only right given his status. He even said that he wanted to pick you up himself if he could.
The first thing you noticed after stepping into the cinema was how empty it was. Sure it was quite late at night, around eleven, but it was not that late to the point where nobody would be there. You had been to the cinema at the same hour before and you were sure it wasn’t this empty. Although you were feeling suspicious, you showed the staff your booking code anyway and she led you to the auditorium.
How terrified you were to found the auditorium to be empty also, only the huge screen playing the commercials before the movie. You began to look around, terrified. Was this some sort of prank? You were not sure. Out of the blue a finger tapped your back and you yelped in horror.
“I’m sorry! Did I scare you? I was in the restroom.” It was Jungkook.
You stood up for a few seconds, still processing the whole situation. Your eyes were glassy due to the fear and your heart was beating rapidly. Jungkook just stood there, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a baggy jeans, looking handsome as usual, just staring at you with two cups of soda in his hands. He had a beanie over his head, making his face look rounder and pinch-able.
“Hey… are you okay?”
You cleared your throat, scratching your eyes. “I was scared I thought I got pranked or something.” You chuckled, vision still quite blurry.
“I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you that I rented the whole place… I just don’t want people to see me and make a fuss about it…”
“It’s okay. I’m here now, let’s just sit down?”
Jungkook followed you as you picked a random seat in the middle of the room.
He was being awfully quiet as the movie started playing. You noticed how suddenly tensed he was and you saw his hands trembled for a quick second before he shoved it down his pants pockets.
“Uh, Y/N?” He called.
You were startled. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I can’t take you on a normal date.”
Your heart melted at the statement. While it was true that you were a fan, but seeing him being a considerate and gentle guy in real life completely swept you away.
You smiled, looking at his direction. “I mean, as long as we’re spending time together I don’t care where or how.”
He flashed you a smile, one that could turn you into a puddle instantly. Your eyes darted to a staff that suddenly came to your seats, with two cups of what seemed to be snacks. Your eyes beamed with excitement at the realization of what was served to you. You gasped, covering your lips. You barely mouthed a “thank you” to the staff and they bowed before walking out.
“I didn’t know they serve tteokbokki here.”
“They don’t… I just told my driver to get us some.” He said timidly. “I hope that’s okay?”
“This is the happiest I’ve ever been just to eat a tteokbokki.”
Jungkook breathed out a sigh before smiling brightly. “You know, I don’t even remember the last time I went out on a normal date… I’m sorry if it’s weird to you.”
“I haven’t been in one in a while either, it’s okay.” You smiled back, poking the tteokbokki and took a bite.
He started stuffing some in his mouth as well. “No, it’s different… I think I will never get the chance to actually date normally, you know? Not in the near future at least. I just wish people respect my privacy more, that’s not much to ask, right?”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“Well, at the end of the day, I love what I do and I don’t regret anything.”
He shrugged and continued to stuff more food in his mouth, making you giggle at the sight. You had seen him eat multiple times on his weverse live but seeing him actually eat with such enthusiast right in front of you just felt different. God was he cute.
“I’m glad you’re not like those people.” He looked at you, smiling with his mouth full.
You froze. Am I though? You thought to yourself. Immediately the eye contact was broken and you straightened yourself on the seat to watch the movie, the one with plot you never really got to know at this point. You did not realize how you never really responded to his sentence.
He did not press over it again and you were glad. Instead of opening his mouth to ask for more, he put his hand over yours instead. A bold move, which surprised you, but his touch was oddly calming and in no time you found yourselves intertwining your fingers together.
After the credits rolled, both of you stood up to exit but Jungkook quickly caught your right hand again, refusing to let go of it yet. You found it really adorable so you let him be.
“Let me take you home, yeah?”
“But aren’t you worried? What if someone snoops around seeing the same car drops a random girl and then you later?” You reasoned.
“You’re not some random girl.”
You were both mad and smitten that he chose to focus on that. “That’s not the point.”
“I know… it’s just,” He puffed his cheeks. “I wanna spend time with you more, I don’t really get breaks that often so…”
You almost let out an “aww”. You sighed, fighting the urge to just hug him right there on the spot. “Alright.”
“Yes!” He celebrated, throwing his left fist in the air. “Don't worry, I have a driver trailing from behind in case I get followed. I won't drop you in your specific apartment tower too, if that helps."
“You drove by yourself?”
“Kinda wanna chat just the two of us.”
Okay, you were now holding every fiber of yourself not to just jump and kiss him.
“Is that alright though?” You worried.
“The staffs here already signed NDAs and stuff, so I hope so.” He shrugged.
Nodding, you followed him to the parking basement, where he parked his car. He did not let go of your hand until he reached his car. Not minutes after starting his engine, he already was asking for your hand. His eyebrows wiggling playfully at you, while he whined about how he could comfortably drive with one hand.
You were in no position to complain though, your hand felt too comfortable resting against his. It almost felt like it belonged there but saying that about Jungkook made you feel delusional. Despite actually going on a date with the man himself, it was still surreal for you, the idea of going out with your idol.
“Do you think I’m going too fast?”
“Your driving? I guess it’s alright.” You raised one of your eyebrow, looking at him.
“You know what I mean.” He chuckled. “About this whole thing…”
Before you answered, he spoke again.
“I get way too excited over these things, I don’t have that much experience and not to mention how I don’t really get that much time to do so.” He nervously laughed. “I’m a fucking twenty-six year old guy who gets way too excited over holding hands…” He shook his head. The curse word rolling out from his tongue actually sounded natural, somewhat sexy.
“I think you’re fine the way you are.” You squeezed his hand, patting the top of it with your other one. “Everyone experience life differently, and so what if you get excited over holding hands? You think I don’t?” You chuckled.
“You do?!” He said cheerfully. “We’re such a great match already.” He joked.
You rolled your eyes but your lips were curled into a shy smile.
“I like you, like a lot.” Jungkook suddenly confessed, as if it was nothing.
You almost jumped in your seat, looking to his direction. His eyes were on the road but he was smiling from ear to ear.
This was it right? This was the moment of your dreams. You were literally dreaming about this. The idol who you admired, confessing his feelings to you. But a small part of you thought about how wrong it was. You were putting a facade in front of him. While you did not lie or put up an act just to impress him, he still didn’t know that you were one of his fans. Will he get mad if he finds out? You’d rather not find out.
“Jungkook, it’s…”
“You don’t have to answer right now. We’ll see each other again, right?” This time he squeezed your hand, dragging it near his chest. You felt his heart beating rapidly.
You kept quiet, only nodding silently. Looking at his direction suddenly felt stuffy so you looked at the window instead, the road and traffic lights kept you busy.
It was not long after and he finally stopped at your destination.
“I’ll see you again?” He said, voice sounding a little bit like a beg.
“I… I can’t.”
Jungkook’s jaw dropped slightly, he looked at you with furrowed brows. “Why?”
“I’m not who you think I am…” You looked away, backing off so your body hits the car door.
“What’s that suppose to mean?” He leaned towards your direction, making you nervous.
Panicking, you finally spilled the beans. “Jungkook, I’m actually your fan.” You breathed out. “I’m an army…”
You were so ready to get yelled and thrown out. This was gonna be the moment you wished you had never met—
“I know.”
“Wait, what???” You replied, voice almost a little too loud.
“I saw your little Koya charm in your bag when we first met, I was waiting for you to bring it up but you never say anything.”
Shit, guess you forgot to take that off.
“But you said you were glad I’m not like those people…”
“And I don’t mean my fans? I was talking about those crazy stalkers and dispatch.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost as if he felt betrayed.
“I… I don’t know what to say…” You blushed, the sudden realization hit you that Jungkook in fact had known about your secret since day one.
“That was it right? That’s the only thing that I supposedly don’t know about you? You didn’t lie about anything else?”
“N-No, of course not…”
“Then my offer still stands, I’ll let you know when I’m free next.” He grinned. “If you want to?”
“I want to…” You managed to say, in which seconds later the huge built guy launched towards you for a hug.
“Hey!” You whined, but you were aware of how hot your face felt. Your whole body probably had turned red.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked impatiently, eyes big like a puppy asking for food. “I mean… it’s okay if you don’t want to?” He giggled.
“I swear you're gonna be the death of me…" You groaned. "You don’t have to ask!” You pouted with your cheeks burning like crazy.
He showed you his tooth-aching smile, one that turned his eyes into crescents, before he quickly dipped and met your lips. It was a short and soft peck. He did left it lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you were lowkey expecting more.
“Good night.” He giggled.
“Good night to you too, silly.” You laughed as well, hugging him close and pecked his cheek.
He finally let you go so you could grab your bag. It was kinda awkward after all hugging in the car seat but oh well. You clicked open the car door, slowly stepping out.
“Drive safe.” You said, looking back to him.
He nodded before waving you goodbye.
That night you went to bed with your eyes wide open. How could you even sleep? The whole scenario felt like you just receive something only someone who had won a war in their past life would get. You took your phone, wanting to text the guy who you totally did not have as your wallpaper now.
There were already two bubbles of notification from him, but your eyes almost popped out reading the second one.
“I have arrived safely! No one followed me! Hehe”
“Any chance you want a signed album from Namjoon-hyung? I can give you for a very low price of a single kiss! 💜”
Thank you for reading! 🍷
Prompt request: HERE
#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts scenarios#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff
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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 1) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)
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 — 17.7𝘬 (crying TT)
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
note: the year is circa 1908 and 10 years after the spanish-american war (1898). reader has long hair bc i felt like that was historically accurate... hope that's ok <3
header gunslinger ghost render by @ave661
you had heard the whispers on the horizon.
the whole town buzzed with a sort of energy—a swirling mass of dusty brown and gurgling in your stomach.
anxiety. you saw it on passerby faces through Daddy’s saloon, the bouncing knee of your mama under the table while you said grace at dinner. she never bounced her knee. it was a strict habit she trained you out of from a young age. claimed that it wasn’t proper for a young, unmarried lady like yourself.
that morning, when you stood over the wash bin in front of the dusty mirror, you wiped at your face with an old washcloth and smoothed the lines of your face like your mama taught you.
Ghost was coming to town.
no matter how you brushed your hair, the dust climbing through the desert coated it in a thin, particulate grime. Mama tightened your corset as you shoved your toes into leather heeled boots.
“remember yourself, girl,” she spoke lowly. “remember your manners. behave for once and don’t embarrass your daddy.”
you only rolled your eyes at her hissed warnings. you had met with Daddy’s business partners over several dinners where you put on your best show to pour them a glass of Daddy’s fancy bourbon all the way from kentucky.
these were the rules: you don’t speak to them unless spoken to, and you let them touch you however they please.
you shuddered, stomach curling at the thought of the last dinner. Mr. Turner’s wrinkled hand had slid up your thigh and you twisted away in reflex, accidentally knocking a bottle of bourbon onto the floor that shattered and soaked the hem of his wife’s fancy dress.
she had screamed at you and your daddy’s face had gone red, sending you a look of warning. Mama barely spared you a glance as she pulled you down to the floor to clean it up, pinching the skin of your arm in frustration.
you couldn’t tell if it felt worse to have Mr. Turner’s hand squeezing at your thigh or to be at your knees in front of him.
the strings of your corset pulled tight and you bit back a gasp as Mama tied it deftly with the practiced curl of her rough hands. you put on your best blouse and tucked it into a navy skirt that flowed into a blue, watery circle round your ankles. looking into the mirror, you thought your mama looked so much more poised and ready than you.
with a shaky exhale, you turned to her and she slapped at your face. you winced at the sting it left on your cheek.
“you’ll be fine.”
you felt far from it, trailing after her as the orange sun bled through the grimey windows, a blanket of dust settling on them in the windy evening. you had scrubbed them only yesterday.
settling yourself behind the expanse of Daddy’s bar, you smoothed over the dark wood. the saloon was eerily empty and quiet, a silent omen of Ghost’s arrival approaching. he had sent word only a few days ago. he had urgent business with Daddy and he was coming. now.
as you shuffled through Daddy’s whiskey collection, rearranging and wiping bottles down, you remembered the legends that alcoholics brought in every other week. another story on Ghost—the masked iron harbinger of death and justice. he wasn’t a sheriff, a good and honorable christian, or a vigilante. he was a bounty hunter, a cold-hearted gunslinger with a nasty sore spot for bourbon, money, and women. someone who disappeared without a trace, shooting out runaway criminals, bringing back carcasses for an extra dime.
he wasn’t even human.
a ghost. or so you heard.
you combed through the alcoholic contents, anxiously placing them and replacing them. your mama would be calling you to dinner any second and lead you to the table, Daddy at the head and Ghost at the other, right next to your spot where his hand would be on your thigh, eyes burning into the curve of your cheek.
swallowing, you leaned against the bar top. you wanted to run away. you didn’t know how much longer you could go—how many more business partners Daddy would work with to expand his saloon chain. how much longer until he would be selling his daughter’s honor for a bigger investment…
the familiar click and chime of the saloon doors swinging open came from behind. you crossed your arms and didn’t turn to see who it was. you knew Mama would’ve had your head for being so rude.
“saloon’s closed,” you called out, “Daddy’s got business with—”
“Ghost.”
you stiffened and uncrossed your arms to peer over your shoulder.
there, at the entrance of the saloon, stood a broad and tall figure, hips thick and laden with a gun holster. he hooked his fingers on his belt, embroidered silver buckle glimmering in the red hours of the evenings. his backlit silhouette stark against the sunset made it hard to make out anything else, but you were sure when you saw the shine of his red mask and the wide berth of his black Stetson, a silver skull and crossbones clasped to its brim.
Daddy’s got business with Ghost.
you were frozen. the casual way his thick gloved hand settled on his revolver sent tremors through you.
“you’re supposed to be at dinner with Daddy,” you said, throat tight, and he trudged forward, boots heavy on the wood floorboards. he walked with a heady weight, and as he neared, you could make out the darkness of his eyes piercing through his skull mask.
“wanted bourbon.”
you stared at him for a long moment. he sat at a barstool, all his weight and broadness settled over the bartop. whatever trance you were in broke when he tipped his head at you in question—or impatience, you couldn’t discern. probably the latter.
you fumbled for a kentucky bourbon. you had done this a million times over at the saloon, but the crackle of the air and his gaze following your every move had your hands wobbling. the shaky clink of the bourbon bottle against the glass grappled with the silence of the room. suddenly, you felt hyper aware of the looseness of your blouse when you bent to pour his bourbon. you didn’t dare look up into his gaze.
“you scared of me?” his accent was foreign and grating and sent shivers down your spine. you should’ve been hollering for your mama at this point, but you felt rooted to the spot.
shakily, you exhaled. “no.”
when you pulled back, you watched in amazement as he pulled up the bottom of his black mask, revealing a canvas of pale skin, dark stubble, and a strong jawline that pulled into a tight frown on his lips. a litter of scars shone silver in the light when he tipped back to drain the glass of bourbon.
when he placed the empty glass back on the table, he reached into the inner pocket of his black trench coat and pulled out a cigarette. you flinched when his heavy gaze ran over you.
“light me up, lovely?”
you nodded dumbly, reaching for the lighter under the countertop and held it out to him. he looked up at you, unmoving, and you blinked in confusion before his gloved hand gripped your wrist with a tightness.
he moved your hand with his own, thumbing over the sparkwheel till the flame jumped to life and leaned his mouth forward to tip his cigarette into the flame.
your whole body felt light and fiery—like you were floating a bit off the ground, shoulders drawn with a tightness. a sharp exhale left you when he finally released you, the skin of your wrist tingling in the memory of his leather grip.
smoke clouded your eyes in a haze and you blinked rapidly, quickly wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. he huffed, corners of his lips twitching, a dark gleam in his eye. his rested his hand against the countertop, smoke trailing up in the room and you watched his lips part like he was about to say something—
Mama strode into the room, freezing at the entrance of the back door behind the counter. you had never seen her so tense, her eyes moving from you, to the hulking man smoking a cigarette.
“welcome, sir,” she greeted and he only nodded, pulling his mask back down as he snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray.
it was like you remembered yourself in that moment, that the man across from you was Ghost, the bounty hunter, the murderer, and the devil. you shuffled away into her side when Ghost stood. her arm was tight when it circled your waist, and you mustered all your strength not to shake. Mama’s gaze was on him but Ghost was only staring at you.
you stared at the floor instead.
“this way, sir,” she said, gate polite and posture poised as she led you and Ghost to the dining room through the back of the saloon’s supply and storage to the other side of the building where he was supposed to enter.
his footsteps were heavy behind you and the hair on your neck prickled. you scurried forward but it was like you could feel his warm breath down your back.
when you found Daddy, it was almost a crushing relief to see the sweeping calm on his half-lidded face at the dinner table. he was so charming, you were sure he could use his business skills to weasel out of this. like he had a million times before.
Mama’s steaming food was laid out over the table—buttered chicken, thick mashed potatoes, greasy green beans with bacon bits. you tried to move to sit on the opposite side of the table, far away from Ghost, but your daddy’s eyes pinned you with a warning and you grimaced, sitting carefully next to him. Ghost’s gaze burned your face.
“Ghost,” Daddy greeted, “pleasure to see you again.”
he only grunted, mask pulled tight over his features. you couldn’t see anything but the dark swirl of his eyes. he didn’t even take off his hat at the table.
you glanced at your mother’s face by Daddy but her eyes were intent, focused on Ghost. she didn’t seem to care at all. you shifted in your seat. you knew Ghost was a very special guest, but not even special guests were above Mama’s rules.
“what brings you to our small town?”
Mama nudged you under the table with her foot, and you kept yourself from rolling your eyes, standing to serve Ghost food. you carefully dished it on his plate neatly, just like Mama taught you, but he didn’t even spare the food a glance.
“i was at your saloon in jackson county.” you froze briefly. jackson county is a long way from the west. he must’ve traveled day and night to reach your small town embedded in tumbleweeds and dust.
his head tipped thoughtfully so you couldn’t see his eyes anymore under the width of his hat. “it’s a nice place. good kentucky bourbon.”
Daddy smiled but his eyes narrowed. you were about to dump a spoonful of mashed potatoes on Ghost’s plate but he gripped your wrist lightly.
“i’m alright,” he said low, and your spine prickled. there was a warning in it, so you sat back in your seat, leaning to the furthest edge away from him. you dreaded the moment his gloved palm would glide up your thigh.
“why are you here, Ghost?” Daddy asked again, his hand reaching down below the table. you imagined it resting on the holster, revolver lodged against his hip.
Ghost leaned forward.
“first, you tell me why I saw Turner’s boys loitering around jackson county.”
Daddy went pale in a way you’ve never seen before and Mama shifted uncomfortably. her knee was bouncing again.
“nearly got my head shot off. had to comb my way through texas to lose ‘em.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed in the dimness of the dining room.
“you know how i feel about the Turner boys, Henry.”
you shivered at his low tone. what the hell was going on?
there was a calculated thickness in Daddy’s voice. it blanketed all the desperation in his clenched jaw. “i needed investors, Ghost. Turner was the highest bidder.”
“do you need a reminder of who built your business from scratch in the first place?”
your brows raised. Daddy did business with Ghost?
“no i remember. i also remember how you high-tailed it out of here when the Turner boys showed up five years ago.”
you jumped in your seat when Daddy stood and placed his revolver on the dinner table. Mama gasped and murmured something like disapproval that Daddy ignored. it gleamed in the low light and your jaw clamped.
“i’m not afraid of you, Ghost. Turner’s protecting me now.”
Ghost’s silence was deadly, his hulking form too relaxed, but you could see his hand twitch where it lay on his holster. was this going to lead to a shootout?
you tried to convey your silent question in the way that you peered into the curve of his mask but his eyes were dead set on Daddy.
“Turner is protecting you now?”
“yes.”
Ghost stared up at your daddy for a long time before his gaze traveled to you. you reached deep inside you to muster the courage and stare unflinchingly back.
“i want my money back, Henry.” it was a low deadly whisper, his eyes never leaving you. Daddy balked.
“you know i can’t do that.”
“but you can. and i want my money back or i can take something much more precious.”
his gloved hand came up to stroke at your cheek and you bit back a hiss, biting down on your lower lip. Mama stood now, clutching at Daddy’s arm.
“you won’t, you devil!” she cried and Ghost gripped firmly at your jaw, razor eyes digging into you. a tight hand around his wrist, you tried to pry him off but he was too strong. he wouldn’t budge. a traitorous tear spilled from the corner of your eye. Ghost brushed it away with his thumb.
“you have no honor,” your Daddy whispered and Ghost went lax. you pushed his hand away and pressed yourself to the back of your chair in a ball.
a new boiling anger built in you. you were being used again as another part in Daddy’s business transactions.
“you sell your daughter to investors for a buck. do you really want to talk about honor?” he chewed out the words and you shuddered, holding your breath to keep down the sobs that threatened to push up into your lungs.
“i protected you. this was my territory. i had men in your town and i made sure no bandits came near your saloons and i made sure none left alive. then, you went to work with Turner instead.” Ghost stood at the table, revolver in hand. he cocked the gun and Mama shrieked.
“this is a fair trade. give me my investment back or i’ll take her instead.” the barrel of his revolver slowly swung from Daddy to you. in his black suit in bloody mask, Ghost truly did look like the devil. you wanted to shake, to cry and scream and sob, but only a venomous anger spread through you.
what did Ghost know about fairness?
“if i go it’s on my terms,” you hissed under your breath and Ghost’s eyes swiveled to you. Mama began to shout in protest but he pointed the revolver dead above her browline and your Daddy hissed, picking up his own revolver and cocking it.
“what’re your terms, lovely?” he asked in a low tone.
“you leave my Mama and Daddy alone.” with a harsh swallow, you wiped at the tears on your cheeks. “i can ride a horse. i can shoot well ‘cause Daddy taught me. i know how to pour a glass and tend a bar. i can read and write. i know good manners and i can talk smart when i need it.
Ghost’s eyes were half-lidded as he looked down on you, sitting as straight as you possibly could at the dinner table. your Daddy’s revolver was trained on Ghost now.
“i won’t get in the way. take me instead of the money.”
Ghost blinked. “what’re my terms?”
you hesitated, voice cracked wide open. “you…you’ll own me.”
his eyes narrowed. “body and soul?”
you nodded slowly, feeling your anger deflate as your mama began to sob.
“body and soul.” you screwed your eyes shut, head dipping forward. the devil.
“Henry?”
your Daddy looked weakly at Ghost, his shoulders falling. he looked meek and small and not even half the smart man you thought he was. his revolver clattered to the dinner table in defeat and you didn’t spare him a glance when you stood from the dinner table to trudge up the stairs and pack your things, the food sprawled across the dinner table cold and forgotten.
you didn’t have time to think about what you needed or what to say goodbye to. the stuffed bear your daddy got you for your tenth birthday lay discarded among your bedsheets. old letters from the girls in town were strewn off your desk as you dug for stationary. you stopped midway when you realized there was no way Ghost would let you write your parents on the move through the west.
was this your new life? confined to bounty hunting and running from foes? living as a ghost?
you shivered, shoving blouses and skirts and a canteen on your nightstand into a knapsack. you pulled out the drawer of your dresser and dug under more clothes to find a revolver and pack of ammo. Mama would beat you if she ever knew it was there and that’s why you always kept it hidden.
you loaded up the cylinder, pushing the bullets into each chamber and ramming the cylinder back in place.
“gearing up to kill me?”
you froze and looked over your shoulder to find Ghost crowding your doorway. for someone of his stature, he moved too quietly. usually, you would be embarrassed at the mess dispersed across the floor, your undergarments at a pile by his dusty boots.
but you just narrowed your eyes, ignoring him as you carded through your room, collecting random essentials. matches, money, your sharpest letter opener, and in a last second grab, your journal.
he watched all your movements with an eerie silence.
“i’m not planning on keeping you forever.” he stepped forward till he was just a short arm length from your back. his voice was cold.
“your daddy’ll try and kill me first, then he’ll cough up the money eventually. it’s a temporary trade off.”
“i’m not one of your business transactions,” you snapped, and he blinked at you.
“‘course not.”
his words weren’t convincing. you tried to squeeze past him but his outstretched arm blocked your path. you almost snapped at him again but shrunk back when his steady eyes pinned you down. he crowded you back until you blindly hit the dresser.
your neck craned up. he was so much bigger than you.
the swell of his chest with each breath almost brushed against you, and you squirmed under his intense gaze.
“you offered yourself up to me,” he said, calculated. “why?”
you swallowed down the anxious gurgling in your stomach. “you wouldn’t believe me.”
“tell me anyway.”
“i hate it here.”
he cocked his head at you. “the rich girl wants to become a bounty hunter?”
you frowned, raising the revolver and digging it into his stomach. “don’t think that i could?”
he gave you a long look before tipping his hat and stepping back. “didn’t say that, lovely.”
you whispered it under your breath. “devil.”
the grip on his holster tightened. “maybe. but i know how to be a gentleman.”
he picked up the knapsack on your bed, despite your grumble of protest, and slung it over his shoulder.
“don’t worry. i’ll take real good care of you, princess.”
you could only imagine a smug smirk hidden by the shroud of his mask as he walked out your bedroom.
it was surreal watching the tears stream down Mama’s face as she cupped your face in her hands. facing them now, you searched your daddy’s eyes for an ounce of anger or fight.
just give him the money, you wanted to scream at your daddy, but he stared straight through you and the hands that clutched at your face.
Ghost watched from a distance, arms curled over his chest, leaning against a fence post that his black stallion was tied to, leisurely grazing at the dry tufts of grass. your horse, Sugar, stamped in the dirt nearby, kicking up dust. Ghost’s dark gaze pierced you even at a distance.
Daddy could never out gun Ghost even if he tried.
you startled when Mama pulled you into a tight hug. she hissed low and angry, “you wait till he falls asleep and you kill him, you hear me?” she pinched at the skin of your arm. “you put three bullets in that devil’s heart and you run back to us.”
she brushed hair away from your face, sweeping away the dust on the crown of your head. “okay?”
you nodded, swallowing, throat bone dry.
“you’ll be fine.”
those were her final words when your daddy led you to your horse and let you clamber up into your saddle. Ghost looked at you expectantly from over his shoulder as your daddy patted your knee.
“i’m sorry, sweetheart.”
no you’re not.
you looked into his charming face, a twisted look on his lips. his eyes were tired.
“goodbye, Daddy.”
you took one look over the small town and the dust that blew through it. Ghost turned his horse into the dying light of the day and you dug the heel of your boot into the flank of your mare, tightening the reins, and took off after Ghost. soon, your mama and daddy become a dot in the horizon, and you almost suppressed a smile.
you weren’t sure how long you rode. it felt like hours, dust kicking up in a big cloud after the pair of you into the dark night. you only stopped every hour or so to let the horses rest up, drink, feed and you were off again. you should’ve been tired but you were so high with exhilaration, lungs burning with exertion from the long ride, that you almost didn’t catch Ghost’s call to rest drifting over the wind rushing in your ears.
your chest was put through the wringer, panting as you slid off your horse.
“good girl, Sugar.” you slapped at her dapple gray shoulder. she snorted, tossing her mane anxiously.
as you traveled further into…wherever you were, the cacti and low brush built up into bushes and weedy looking trees. into a forest.
Ghost lit the lantern strung up on his saddle bags and gave you a sharp, wordless look before leading his horse by the reins further into the woods. you followed him, head on a swivel at the unfamiliar surroundings.
you were used to the big, brown, orange flat canvas of your small town. the green grass underfoot was unusual and the trees cast long, distorting shadows. you startled, stopping short when you heard an foreign call from the woods. Sugar huffed nervously, big nostrils twitching as she stamped her hoof.
“it’s a coyote,” Ghost grumbled, not stopping for your shenanigans. you scurried after him, hyper aware of the encompassing darkness around you and what may be lurking beyond it.
soon, a big structure obstructing the woods came into view and Ghost lifted his lantern to reveal a small wooden cabin. by the side, he tied up his black stallion on a fence post next to a hay feeder and water bin. when he stared at you, unmoving, you quickly followed suit and fumbled to unsaddle Sugar, carrying your knapsack inside and following after his heavy footsteps.
you’re like a lost puppy, a voice grumbled in annoyance. he’s always ten steps in front of you.
you shook away the thought and stepped into the cabin, watching Ghost as he lit the oil lamps littered around the room. there was a miniscule kitchen pressed in the corner, a desk by your side, and a bed on the other. the bed was small. very small.
you cleared your throat. “where are we?”
Ghost didn’t pause to acknowledge you, shucking his trench coat and rolling up the sleeves of his black suit, exposing the skin of his forearms. for a long moment, as he rummaged through a bag, you thought he would ignore you. but your silent stare was relentless.
“border of southern california.”
your brows rose. you weren’t sure how far that was from home, or how you could possibly find your way back.
“and this cabin…?”
he paused to give you a brief look. “you ask a lot of questions.” his voice was pinched with annoyance.
“you don’t talk enough,” you shot back, tensing up. if you were going to be dragged around by this man for months, you thought you at least deserved to know where you were. or what the hell was going on.
he grumbled under his breath. “s’my safe house. we’re stayin’ for the night.”
the night. you nodded, feeling meek, remembering what Mama said. smoothing a hand over your chest, you shifted between feet in the doorway.
you can do this.
Ghost had his back turned to you, pouring his canteen of water into a pot and pouring a bag of something else in it that came out in a pebbled rush. for the devil himself, at least he knew how to cook.
“you gonna sit?”
feeling embarrassed, you moved to sit on the bed, the old mattress sagging under your weight. you kept smooth a hand over your blouse, carding a hand through your hair, till you got tired of it and wove them into messy braids and undid them again.
Ghost huffed, moving from the kitchen to the desk, putting his hat down. you stared.
“relax. no need to be so worked up.”
you nodded. “right.”
his eyes bore holes into you, and you took that as your que, swallowing as you began to unbutton the clasp at the top of your blouse. you paused when Ghost’s breath tapered, turning sharply away.
his accent thickened. “what are you doing?”
“i-i thought—”
“you thought wrong.” his words were cutting.
maybe you should’ve felt relief but you only squirmed in confusion. “body and soul?” you mumbled weakly, and he slowly turned back to you.
you fumbled with your hands awkwardly.
“i don’t bed rich, prissy girls,” he grinded out and you almost balked in defense, but you thought better of it from the way his grip tightened on his holster.
but you couldn’t hold your tongue long enough—
“who do you bed then? whores?” your brow arched against your will as you tilted your head. his eyes narrowed beneath the mask.
“careful, princess.” he grabbed something from a cabinet in the kitchen. “i’m the one who’s keeping you alive.”
a gloved hand held out a plate of some dried fruit and biscuits. a piece of jerky as well. you held your stomach.
you hadn’t touched a morsel of your mama’s food over that tense dinner, which seemed like years ago, and you were too nervous for Ghost’s arrival to eat lunch either. swallowing, you reached a hand out and Ghost pulled the plate back from your grasp.
you almost hissed at him.
“i thought you said you knew manners?”
biting your lip, you sat up straighter and politely crossed an ankle over the other, smoothing your hands over your lap.
“may i please have some food, sir?”
his voice sounded uncharacteristically smug. “you’re a good listener.”
you snatched the plate from him, his words thrumming low in your stomach. kicking off your boots and neatly lining them up by the nightstand, you politely curled your legs to the side and smoothed down your skirt to eat. Mama never let you eat on the bed, but you had snuck up meals some late nights. you almost felt giddy—as if you were breaking the rules when you were eight years old again.
Ghost watched you eat in silence before getting his own plate. the same thrill from that evening soared in your stomach when he tugged up his black mask to reveal his strong jawline and pinkish mouth. you noticed a silvery scar on his upper lip.
“did your father make you do that stuff?” you paused mid-bite of your biscuit, slowly chewing.
you swallowed. “what stuff?”
the twist of his lips seemed like exasperation. “going to bed with strangers.”
you flinched, and it was like an icy cold reminder that Ghost was a stranger—just as much as your daddy’s business partners.
“no.”
Ghost cocked his head. “that so?”
you nodded. “Daddy just had touchy customers.”
you quickly rephrased, putting down the plate on your lap. “but i can if you need me to. for your customers, you know.”
you knew you would need to be of use to Ghost in the coming months, if tonight didn’t go according to plan. the thought spurred on your heart, a looming dread clambering up your spine.
Ghost mouth twisted. “i don’t need you in that way.”
you blinked, frowning. “how do you need me then?”
“just….” he was frowning deeply now. “just do what you’re doing now.”
“what’s that?”
“bein’ polite.” he shrugged, putting down his empty plate. you felt disappointed when he tugged back down the mask. “bein’ a good girl.”
the funny thing is, being polite and a good girl was probably one of the things you were worst at in Mama’s eyes, but looking at Ghost, and the way he brandished his gun over the dinner table like a toy… your manners weren’t too bad at all.
you wondered when was the last time he stepped in a church.
finishing the last bits of dinner, Ghost excused himself to disappear into the woods, and you took the moment of privacy to quickly change into a nightgown, conscious of the way it exposed your collarbones and chest.
you also took the moment to plan out the night, searching into your knapsack to find the familiar handle of your revolver. you tested the weight of it in your hand, before putting it back into the sack. if Ghost was a gentleman, as he attested, he would let you sleep on the bed. that means he would, most likely, sleep on the floor. and if he didn’t… you would just have to convince him that he needed to.
you closed your eyes to imagine leaning over your bed at night, the slow swell of his chest as you aimed the revolver right at his heart and pulled the trigger. three times.
you shivered violently, a chill passing over you.
“cold?”
you stiffened when Ghost stepped back into the cabin, pulling the door shut behind him. you nodded, but the movement felt restrained, fists balled as you crossed them over your chest.
“mhmm.”
he jerked his head to the bed.
“take the bed. i’ll be sleepin’ outside.”
you balked, fist clenching and unclenching.
“but…what about Mr. Turner’s men?”
he turned still, hand twitching at his holster.
“they won’t find us for days. don’t worry about them.”
“but…” Ghost moved to grab his saddlebag.
“i’m scared,” you whispered, and he paused, peering at you through the mask. you gave him a meek look. it’s wasn’t a complete lie. you’ve been half-scared since he walked into Daddy’s saloon unannounced.
he sighed, long and hard. “alright, princess.” he pulled out a balled up blanket from his saddlebag and laid it on the floor, and you went lax with relief, lifting the covers of the bed to slide into them.
you stiffened again when you realized the sheets smelled of him—sweet bourbon, cigarettes, and an earthy musk like mud and woods. cheek nestled into the pillow, you watched him unbutton his vest, pull off his holster, and undo his bolo tie, placing them on the desk neatly.
you half-expected him to take off his mask, too, but he made no move towards it as turned off the oil lamps in the room. a bit disappointed, you turned to the wall once the room was shrouded with darkness.
quiet shuffling ensued, until there was a complete silence and his even breaths in the dark. it would’ve been easy to let sleep overtake you if the spike of your heavy heart wasn’t thrumming in your throat and a biting fear wasn’t corded in the back of your brain.
it took a conscious reminder to remember the large lump of man on the floor was a murderer. a cold-blooded one, too. he was a rich bounty hunter and hunting was his sport. he was a killer. he wasn’t here to feed you or take care of you. he was as sinful as they came.
you slowly shifted in the bed, reaching down into the knapsack on the floor by the bed. you groped until you felt a familiar cold, embroidered handle.
you wait till he falls asleep and you kill him, you hear me?
your mama’s voice rang in your ears as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Ghost was flat on the ground, a blanket drawn up to his waist, arms crossed over his chest. your breath hitched in the dark.
you put three bullets in that devil’s heart and you run back to us.
you stopped short at that, poisonous questions blooming in your head. it was dangerous, hesitating in the dark like this, looming over one of the most dangerous men in the west who had just, essentially, stolen you, with a loaded gun in your hand.
but your head was running away from you—how would you get home from here? did you have the supplies needed? you didn’t have the tracking skills Ghost evidently showed on your ride to the cabin, nor expertise in medical emergencies. did you even want to go home?
you stared at the side of Ghost’s mask, its red a cool blue gleam in the dark.
you could live the life of a gunslinger like Ghost—a merciless bounty hunter who murdered for money. you could imagine it, even now. shootouts with outlaws and playing friends with sheriffs to get big payouts. but… it would be under the pretense of being Ghost’s property.
you shuddered at the thought. as long as you were by Ghost’s side, you would be his captive. a precious pawn in a trade off—a hostage to use against your daddy and Turner. just another business transaction and you to take advantage of.
a small click in the dark seized you from your thoughts. Ghost’s black eyes peered up at you. cursing in surprise, your clammy hands dropped the revolver, and it clattered to the floor. you fumbled around for it and hugged it to your stomach, heart beating out of your throat.
he rested the revolver in his hand leisurely against his chest. too leisurely.
a bead of sweat slid down your temple when you realized he just cocked his gun. you didn’t remember him taking it out of his holster when he placed it on the desk.
always ten steps ahead of you.
“gearing up to kill me?”
your mouth opened and closed, failing to shape out words. his gaze narrowed.
“m’scared remember?” was all you could choke out, a shiver gripping you intensely. you tried to play it off with a careless shrug, but you knew he couldn’t possibly fall for that.
your skin felt cold but his stare was hot.
“scared of what? the dark? the coyotes outside, Tuner’s boys?” his voice was dangerously soft. “...or me?”
you almost whimpered. “i’m not scared of you.”
the fabric of his mask stretched and the crumple at his eyes let you know he was smiling. it was more threatening than anything.
“let’s say you’re not scared of me…” he rested his revolver on the floor and he shifted onto his side to face you fully. “...and let’s say you didn’t just try to kill me.”
you grimaced under his piercing stare. “put down the gun, lovely.”
you complied and he practically purred. “you still scared?”
shaking your head slowly, your knee betrayed you and began to bounce.
“let’s say you’re not scared of me, and you didn’t try to kill me, but you’re scared of the dark and the coyotes…” you balked when he opened the covers of his makeshift bed to you. “come here.”
you stayed rooted to the spot, knee freezing mid-bounce. his arms were open, mask twinkling in the moonlight, but you knew in his unflinching gaze that he was being very serious.
“come here,” he commanded, and you stood stiffly, shuffling forward to crawl into the blankets. his strong arm hooked around your waist and you muffled a squeak when he pulled you down.
you were pulled into his broad chest, warm and strong at your back and you almost melted if it weren’t for the fact that the man behind you was a cold-blooded murderer and the devil reincarnated.
his gloved hands crept beneath your shoulders around to your throat and pressed to the flying pulse of your neck. he hummed low in your ear, mask brushing the shell of it. the smell of smoke, woody musk, and bourbon filled your nose.
“sure you’re not scared, lovely?”
your jaw clenched. “yes.”
“really?”
his hand crept down from your throat to your collarbone and a loud gasp escaped you when he firmly pressed a palm to the flesh just above your breast. you knew he felt your heart’s fast thrum through the cotton of your nightgown.
“why’s your heart beatin’ so fast then?”
when the silence permitted, he offered you, “nervous?” his voice dropped an octave, low and throaty. “ever lie like this with a man before?”
you were as stiff as a board, a foreign warmth brewing in you that made your skin prickle and crawl, spluttering unintelligible sounds, when suddenly, he released you and you scrambled out of the sheets back onto the bed, pressing yourself to the wall.
he huffed a series of breaths that sounded like quiet laughter. you were just about to kill him. what was so funny about that?
like he heard your thoughts, he turned onto his back and crossed his arms again.
“would be concerned if you didn’t at least try to kill me.” Ghost closed his eyes. “you gonna try and run if i sleep?”
you stared at the side of his face. “no.”
he nodded. “good. there’s a lot more dangerous things in the desert than coyotes, princess.”
like you, you thought weakly, burrowing yourself back into the covers, face heating up when the smell of him against the pillow filled your head again.
your plans had just gone more than horribly wrong. with a heartfelt apology to your mama ringing heavy in your mind, twisting in the sheets, you tried to let sleep take you.
you barely slept that night. tossing and turning in the sheets, you listened for the sinister calls of wildlife just beyond the cabin, and the slow breaths from the floor. though a primal sense inside you let you know that Ghost probably wasn’t sleeping.
but you don’t remember when the sun came up, its first burning embers casting a thin glow in the room. you must’ve fallen asleep at some point because Ghost is gone in the morning, room eerily quiet and empty.
you take the moment to redress in your corset, loose white button up, a buckskin split skirt with fringe, pulling on your boots as you shove everything back into your knapsack. groping around for a familiar embroidered handle, you pause when you realize your revolver has gone amiss.
you sling the knapsack over your shoulder and find Ghost perched down by a fire outside, stoking at its flames. he’s back in his expensive full attire, black suit fresh in the morning light. he only spares you a glance over his shoulder before continuing to stir something in a pot hung up over the fire.
you dropped your knapsack to the ground.
“where’s my revolver?”
he scooped up a spoonful of the stuff into two bowls and grabs something from his bag. he waves your revolver in the air with one hand wordlessly.
“revolver privileges revoked.”
“why?” you knew why, but you wanted to hear it nonetheless.
standing to his full height, he turned and gave you a look under the mask that you could only imagine as disapproval. he didn’t give you an answer.
“eat,” he commanded, handing a bowl to you.
you looked into the bowl to find a watery soup of beans and a dry biscuit half soaked in the liquid. not your finest meal but you were grateful for it.
you eyed Ghost’s broad stature sitting on a log by the fire. he must’ve soaked the beans last night in that pot of water. if you, after last night’s events, weren’t going to try and kill him, or run away, you could at least play nice. for your revolver mostly.
you politely sat next to him on the log, curling your legs to the side and hooking one ankle over the other. taking small bites, you ate with the best manners you could muster without a table in front of you.
you felt Ghost’s gaze burning a question into your cheek, but you ignored it, feigning innocence.
you cleared your throat, nodding. “thank you for the food.”
he scoffed. “it’ll take a lot more to get your revolver back than that.”
you glared at him as he stood to resaddle his horse and tie his saddlebag down. finishing your food in a couple more quick bites, you moved to do the same, but stopped short when Ghost untied the reins of Sugar to bind her to his stallion.
“what’re you doing?”
Ghost gave you a meaningful look but said nothing, heaving himself up onto the stallion. huffing with frustration, you grabbed the bridle of his horse who whinied in surprise.
“what are you doing with my horse?”
Ghost cocked his head at you. “you’re stayin’ here, princess.”
what?
“what?”
“food’s in the pantry. take what you want. don’t wander more than a quarter of a mile from the cabin, you’ll get lost. i’ll be back before sunset.”
he began to turn his stallion away from you, but you held fast on the bridle, jerking its head back towards you. the horse huffed and stomped in retaliation.
“where are you going?”
Ghost just stared at you. “into town.”
you took a sharp breath, racking in your head. “i’ll run away.”
his tone was cold. “on foot? you’re not that stupid.”
“i will. i don’t care. you’ll never get your money if i’m dead of starvation… or…” you shuddered, “coyotes.”
he took you in for a long moment. “these were your terms, lovely.”
you ignored him. “i’m useful. i am. i’m useful for…” you trailed off. “business.”
“i know what you’re useful for.” his eyes narrowed. “you’re most useful right here, in this camp, far away from my business.”
that blow landed right in your gut. “i’ll build a big fire,” you whispered, “and it’ll alert Turner’s men. they’ll find me and bring me back to my daddy.”
he turned away. “do you really want them to find you? when they’ll do lord knows what to a young lady like you?”
every bit of the fight burning in you deflated, snuffed by his sharp words and harrowing logic. you felt small and defeated as you watched Ghost spur his horse on, Sugar trailing after them. a miserable feeling bloomed in your stomach.
is this what your daddy felt like last night at the dinner table?
“i’ll be back before sunset,” he called over his shoulder and took off into the early morning light in a cloud of dust.
time alone went slower than you could possibly imagine. you don’t remember the last time you were alone like this—your mama always hovering over your shoulder, or the girls in town spurring you to embroider and scrapbook with them, or maybe go shopping, even when you’d rather tend to the saloon and make an extra buck when you sang an a pretty song for the alcoholics.
your hands ached to do something, so you laid back in the afternoon sun and whittled at a branch with your letter opener.
once you got tired of that, you began writing aimless entries in your journal with Ghost’s quill and ink on the desk, then, addressing your daddy and mama in a futile letter, vented that Ghost had run off into town for business. what business, you itched to know.
later, you stretched back on the bed in your full attire and boots, which Mama would sorely disapprove of, and blinked away the sun that streamed through the greasy window panes. lids drooping, you found yourself falling into a deep slumber.
you awoke with a start, sweat pooling under your back, blouse sticking to your skin. the sun was settling lazily into the horizon, far into the hours after noon. it was darker than before, a blue tinge across the sky like it was on the verge of storming.
with a lazy sweep of your vision across the cabin, everything untouched, you knew Ghost was still out doing business. of which you, apparently, had no use.
you stretched out over your head and froze when you heard something—a clicking rustle outside the cabin. you strained your hearing, going completely still.
then, you heard distant voices chattering.
dropping to the floor with a silent thud, you peered out the front of the window by the edge of the bed. four men stood by their horses, poking at the pot of beans outside with his boot. you silently cursed when one overturned the watery beans over the dying embers.
a man looked up at the cabin and you immediately ducked, panicking when you heard quick, heavy footsteps nail up the steps to the cabin. you scrambled backwards under the bed and pressed yourself into a ball into the furthest corner of the cabin.
one man stepped inside carefully, and you watched his feet slowly pan across the room in a circle. the warmth drained from your face when you heard the cock of a safety.
who were these people? you racked your brain for answers. Ghost said Turner’s men wouldn’t find you for days. maybe weary travelers looking for a place to stay for the night? good samaritans who could help you escape Ghost?
and never return to your family, a voice in your head added quietly. you silenced it.
he stood by the desk and listened to him rummage over it. you winced—all your letters and writings were still strewn across the desk.
“Charles!” he called. then, abruptly, he neared the bed and reached down for your knapsack on the floor. you clasped a hand to your mouth. he pulled away, your knapsack going with him.
“she was here.”
your blood ran cold. Turner’s men had arrived earlier than Ghost expected.
a second man, Charles, you presumed, stepped into the cabin. more rummaging—probably the first man holding up the letters and your belongings for Charles to see.
“they went to town. says so in the letters.”
Charles huffed and turned on his heel back out the cabin.
“let’s move quick. Turner said the first man to lay hands on the girl gets dibs.”
an icy drip went down your back.
low, raucous laughter and hoots ensued, and you heard more shuffling and the snorts of horses and the stamping of hooves that slowly faded into silence again. only the leaves rustling in the wind and pitched bird calls filled the cabin.
your heart was still beating out of your chest.
Turner said the first man to lay hands on the girl gets dibs.
that shook you to your core. you wanted to run after them, to beg them to bring you back to your parents without harm, maybe bribing them with an extra sum your daddy could give them, but you knew it was futile.
you weren’t ever going back home, and you sure as hell weren’t letting Turner’s men lay their hands on you.
heaving yourself out from under the bed, you looked up at the darkening sky. a gray film was growing over it, blanketing the sun from view. a boom of thunder roiled in the distance.
you needed to move fast, somehow, to warn Ghost about Turner’s men coming for him in town. you cursed yourself for writing those letters in the first place—now, Ghost could be in danger because of you.
not that you cared much. but that devil was the closest thing to protection right now against your parents and Turner. except maybe yourself.
you picked up the knapsack that was thrown haphazardly on the floor and pulled out all your extra clothing and baggage. with only a canteen of water, and the leftover food from the pantry, the letter opener, and a box of matches, you trailed after the hoofprints left by Turner’s men, hurrying as the storm approached quickly overhead.
you were dripping with sweat by the time you reached the edge of town. buckling over to clasp at your knees, you held your chest as you leaned against a tree.
you did it. you tracked those men through low brush and the deep, muddy hoofprints they left behind, some bushes snagged by charging through the forest at an alarming rate.
you did it. you only hoped that Turner’s men hadn’t found Ghost before you did.
the sky was still a murky gray—you had no idea what time it was, no idea if the sun had begun setting yet. you paled at the thought of Ghost riding back to find the cabin empty, your belongings strewn across the place, cabinets empty of supplies. you felt more sick at the thought of finding the devil in a dim alleyway, three bullets in his heart.
pushing forward, you entered the busy throng of the town, its twinkling lights and loud raucous contenting with the brewing storm overhead. men had holsters strung with guns, ammo slung over their torsos like a fancy sash.
some tipped their stetson to you as you walked the cobble streets, wiping the sweat and humidity from your brow. you ignored them to the best of your ability, shuffling along faster when a group of drunks meandered close to you.
sweetheart, they called, and you, in a dizzying panic, pushed into the nearest building, its doors swinging open to a rowdy, rowdy crowd of even more drunks. some smiled at your entrance, but most were too enthralled in their card games, betting, and bourbon to care.
you took the moment to search the snaking crowd for a familiar red mask, but you found nothing. this didn’t feel much like Ghost’s scene anyway.
shoulders sinking, you were about to step back out onto the crowded streets, where a light drizzle was pooling, when a redhead with braids rushed passed you in a tizzy.
she almost dumped a tray full of bourbons onto you. squeaking, she steadied herself against you, and apologized in a thick drawl.
“sorry, sweetheart! didn’t see you there—” she paused, narrowing her eyes at you. immediately, you reeled back.
you really wished you had a revolver slung in your holster in that moment, because you didn’t think to realize that anybody could be one of Turner’s men.
“you…” she cocked her head and you stiffened. “you’re the new hire, aren't ‘cha!”
you blinked in shock, voice cracking. “what?”
“glad you showed up early.” she gave you an approving nod and nudged you with her shoulder. “extra trays of bourbon are in the back. you wouldn’t mind passing them out would you?”
“i-” she was gone in a flash, disappearing into the messy crowd.
you should’ve left at that moment, taking the opportunity to disappear yourself, but instead, you thought this an opportunity to get close and personal with each customer. perhaps Ghost took off his mask for business—you knew you could recognize him by his expensive black suit and the stature he carried. the low timber of his voice, and the dark swirl in his eyes.
shivering, a drift came through and you rubbed at your bare neck. you quickly moved to man the bar. an easiness settled over you at the familiarity of it, grabbing bottles of bourbon and whiskey, pouring them neatly into bar glasses on black trays. you teetered from person to person, tray balanced in your palm as you peered into the face of each man, and even woman, hunkered down at a table to get a glimpse of their profile.
tray after empty tray, you couldn’t find the man you were looking for, no matter how many more entered. soon enough, you bumped into the redhead with braids again and she gave you a cocksure smile.
��sure you’re a new hire?” she laughed loud, cheeks red, slapping at your back. “why don’t you go help across the way at our quieter location? you know where business—” she winked, “—gets done.”
you just nodded aimlessly, too overwhelmed to question it, and she beamed. “don’t worry. it’s more beginner friendly.”
you exited the saloon with the point of her hand to a quainter location on the other side of the street. a thick rain was coming down now. rushing into the parallel saloon, it was half as loud as the other, which your ears thanked, and a thick smoke hazed the room. groups of men donned in fancy suits sat at tables strewn across the room, discussing in low voices with fat cigars between their lips.
your eyes swiveled around the room, craning your neck to peer into the furthest corner of the saloon, but still, no red mask. deflating, you jolted when a barmaid gripped at your shoulder.
“new hire?” she looked disgruntled, eyes narrowing in judgment. you took note of her attire, eerily similar to your own, with a fine cotton blouse and buckskin skirt. now, you understood who the redhead may have confused you for: a fancy barmaid for the gentleman’s club across the way.
she appeared frustrated at your lackluster response. “can you sing?”
you balked at that but said yes nonetheless. your mother had taught you, much to your chagrin.
she nodded. “good. men were asking for a performance. i know it’s your first night, but could you give them a bone to chew on?”
“i guess so,” you spluttered, and she barely batted an eye, already pushing you to the raised platform by the bar. a man already sat with a guitar, peering at you expectantly when you stepped onto the platform.
turning to face the audience, you felt the blood drain from your cheeks. you hadn’t sung in front of an audience this big since your school’s talent show. clearing your throat, you flashed the crowd your prettiest smile, and clasped your hands in front of you politely. the establishment quieted, save for a few low whistles, and you began to sing along for a softer rendition of the fast-paced song to the slow strum of the guitarist.
my love is a rider, wild bronchos he breaks,
though he’s promised to quit it, just for my sake.
he ties up one foot, the saddle puts on,
with a swing and a jump he is mounted and gone.
it was the only song you could remember in the moment—one the girls and you would sing wildly in the evenings after church over loud laughter and iced tea.
my love has a gun, and that gun he can use,
but he’s quit his gun fighting as well as his booze;
and he’s sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,
and there’s no more cow punching, and that’s what I hope.
your eyes searched the crowd and you held back a gasp when you met eyes with a familiar red mask. he stood near the back of the club, bracing his forearm against a wooden beam. swallowing hard, you continued.
my love has a gun that has gone to the bad,
which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty damn sad;
for the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low,
and it wobbles about like a bucking broncho.
his eyes pierced you, and you couldn’t suppress the slithering shiver that crawled down your spine. you wished he was closer—right at the edge of the platform so you could look down into his brown eyes, and maybe, try to discern what he was thinking under that blood red mask.
now all you young maidens, where’er you reside,
beware of the cowboy who swings the raw-hide;
he’ll court you and pet you and leave you and go
in the spring up the trail on his bucking broncho.
the room clapped and hollered when you finished, and you couldn’t suppress the smile that stretched your cheeks as you curtsied clumsily, gaze on Ghost. he tipped his hat to you, and a loud laugh clambered into your throat. it morphed into a blood curdling scream when a revolver fired and Ghost crumpled to the floor.
the club scrambled in a panic with loud wails, the assailant disappearing into the throng as you clawed your way to the man. he was clutching at his stomach, half-fallen against the wooden beam.
“Ghost!”
a strangled noise strained against your throat. falling to your knees beside him, you pulled away his hand from his stomach, and you paled at the sight of the dark red coating his glove, sleeve, suit. it pooled underneath him.
quickly, you grabbed his bloodied arm and pulled it around your shoulder. there was no way you could heft his weight but you were going to try anyway.
“c’mon,” you coaxed impatiently, as he scrambled up the side of the wooden pole, trying to support his weight. a string of curses left his lips.
“you’ve got a pretty voice,” he rasped, and you almost wanted to drop his weight entirely.
“not important,” you groaned, taking slow steps out the saloon with his body strung over yours. with every step, you grimaced with effort, huffing heavily.
there was an even greater panic in the streets than in the club—a heavy, pouring onslaught coming down like a beating drum. across the way, the other saloon was being ripped apart by several men, upturning tables and firing their guns at the ceiling to clear out the place. Turner’s men.
you pulled Ghost in the opposite direction, appreciative of his black attire in the dark night, the debilitating rain, and the ensuing chaos. you tipped his hat further over that tell-tale mask. he grumbled something by your ear.
“what?” you shouted over the mix of shouts and rush of rain, stumbling when a man hurrying past clipped your shoulder.
his voice lifted. “don’t need your help.”
you rolled your eyes, head on a swivel. lodged between two buildings was an alleyway. a throng of Turner’s men overturned more establishments ahead. you made a beeline for the cramped space.
“you’ll die.”
he huffed when you pressed him against the wall, clutching at the blood seeping from his stomach.
“no i won’t.”
you shot him a glare.
“ghosts can’t die,” he said, sounding high and delirious. he slid further down the wall, a pitched laugh escaping him.
now you knew he was really at his last wits. you racked your brain for answers. you didn’t know medical knowledge, you didn’t see an infirmary on the way here, and even if you did, you wouldn’t put it past them to turn you over to Turner’s men in an instant.
you almost screamed in frustration, tearing off the sleeve of your blouse to wrap around his middle. your hands fumbled clumsily, and Ghost must’ve at least come back to half his senses because he pushed your hands away and expertly knotted the thing despite his thick gloves. his head slumped forward into your shoulder, as if the action was so taxing, breath growing shallow against your exposed collarbone.
you slapped at the side of his face.
“do you know anyone who can get help?” you probed, unable to conceal the desperation in your voice, “anyone at all?”
he sounded smug. “people can’t help ghosts.”
you groaned, pushing his head back against the wall. he peered at you lazily, eyes half-lidded.
“if you don’t tell me something, i will rip that mask clean off your face.” that must’ve stirred something in him because his eyes flashed.
“i did not track Turner’s men for miles to find you just for you to die.” you pressed on. “they found the cabin and these stupid journal entries where i wrote that you were in the town. they didn’t know i was there and went after you. i had to warn you so i tracked them and—” he hissed when you pressed your fingers into his wound to make sure he was still conscious. “—this happened.
he huffed. “stupid girl.”
you could only nod pitifully, before squeaking in surprise when Ghost used your shoulders and the wall as leverage to lift himself.
“take me down this alleyway, then turn left.”
you immediately obeyed and half-dragged him in the direction of his rasped instructions, ending up in front of the back door of a leather crafts store. the streets were slowly emptying by the minute and every second outside in the line of gunfire felt a gaping vulnerability on your back, so you didn’t question his command to open the back door unannounced.
you also weren’t surprised to see the long snout of a rifle stuck in your face the second the door swung open. a woman in a checkered blouse and loose breeches squared her shoulders and jabbed the gun forward so it almost hit your chin where rain coalesced in a steam, falling to your boots.
“who in the devil are you?” she spat, low and deadly. she carefully eyed the man slumping against you.
a strangled warble left Ghost’s mouth, and he lifted a hand to toss off his hat. the mask must’ve been a point of recognition for her because she gasped and lurched forward, hefting up the other side of his body.
“what the hell are you doin’ here, Ghost?” she demanded, helping you carry him behind the counter of the store into the back room. she pushed off all the strewn materials at the table in the center of the room with one strong sweep, and you laid back Ghost on the surface, his eyes closed.
muffling a cry, you pressed your fingers to the pulse point in his neck. to your relief, it was throbbing, albeit weakly.
“business,” was all he mumbled in response and the woman shooed you from his side with an impatient wave of her hand.
you stepped back to the edge of the room, feeling your senses clouded with panic. you looked down to the blood covering your hands. out the window, there was more shouting, gunshots, and a building far down the street went up in flames. your breath hitched till suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore. clawing at your throat, you slid down the wall, fighting the strain in your chest that seemed to close your airway.
you watched the woman cut through his vest and make quick work on the bullet wound, pliers in hand.
“you.”
she might’ve been shouting at you but it barely registered in your mind.
“get your useless behind off the ground and help me for god’s sake!”
you just stared at her and she groaned in frustration. “some girl you have here, Ghost,” she grumbled and the weak grunt that left him brought you back to life.
you stood, steeling yourself, wiping the blood against your front. you felt calm. dangerously calm as you neared Ghost’s side. his eyes were screwed shut and you resisted gagging at the sight of her pliers fishing through his gaping wound for a bullet.
“what do you need?” your voice was weak and quiet. it didn’t even sound like your own. she shot you an impatient look.
“water. from the tap over there. and a needle and thread in that cabinet.”
you moved like you were floating off the ground, light and airy. like you weren’t really there, but you found your hands filling a bowl with water at the kitchen sink and grabbing a case of needles and a spool of black thread from a cabinet overhead.
by her side again, she unclasped the red mask from Ghost’s face and you stared unflinchingly with a hitch of breath. before pulling it from his face, she cocked her head at you.
“look away,” she snarled and you just nodded, stepping back from the table till you couldn’t see Ghost’s profile anymore. couldn’t even see the slow swell of his chest to let you know he was still alive.
you had to escape the room. you walked back out into the main storeroom and grated your hands through your hair, pacing. you picked up the rifle left on the glass casing over a showcase of different leather crafts, cocking it, just in case Turner’s men came barreling through the door.
when you put back down the rifle, you gasped at the sticky, bloody imprint it left on the handle. looking into a mirror by the entrance of the store, you shuddered at your image.
blood crusted your arms, like you had dipped your arms into a vat of it, and red fingerprints littered your throat and tinged your frayed hair. the front of your half-torn blouse was smeared in it too.
your hands shook uncontrollably, so you picked up the rifle’s heaviness again to still you, and sat, leaning against the glass showcase, muzzle aimed at the front door. you sat there for a long time, breath shallow and grating, till the shouts and gunshots outside subsided, and the billiard parlor down the street crumbled under the weight of flames.
you awoke for a second time with a start, the woman’s hand shaking your shoulder lightly. you rolled your shoulders, neck impossibly stiff from your weird sleeping position on the floor. it was no longer dark outside, the lightest tones of pink and blood-soaked orange rising with dawn.
had you really only been napping in Ghost’s cabin half a day prior?
the woman sat beside you, pushing a warm mug into your hand. she didn’t pull her rifle from you, which you were endlessly grateful for, because you just hugged it closer to your chest, its cold metal and cured wood easing your nerves.
“tea.” she nodded to the steaming cup.
“is Ghost okay?” your voice cracked from disuse and she gave you a weak look.
“for now.”
you just nodded, taking a sip of the stuff and wincing when it burned your tongue. chamomile. Mama used to make it too.
the woman cleared her throat, drawing up her blonde hair into a messy bun. “sorry about the shouting. i’m not used to foreign company.”
you shrugged, itching at the dried blood on your neck as you took another sip of tea.
“i’m Kate.” she held out a hand to you. “Kate Laswell.”
you shook her hand slowly, grateful she didn’t cringe away from the blood staining your own. you gave her your name in return and her brow raised.
“Ghost’s girl, huh?”
you felt too tired to be confused. “i guess so.”
“well i just know the boys would love to meet ‘ya.”
you allowed yourself a sliver of confusion. “the boys?”
“‘course,” she said with a smile, “one-four-one.”
you almost dropped the mug in your hand. “one-four-one?” you repeated weakly and she gave you a cheery nod.
you’d heard of them before. you heard too much about them before. she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.
“they should be here any minute now.”
great. you were soaked with blood, clothes and hair tattered with sweat. as if she read your thoughts, Kate stood and outstretched a hand to you, pointing to the back room.
“i’ve got a tub filled in the back for you. and some extra clothes.”
you took her outstretched hand gratefully, allowing her to pull you up and lead you through the storage space where Ghost lay stretched out, half-naked, and maskless. you noticed her rush to flank your side and obscure the view of his bare, sleeping face from you. deciding not to fight it, the gentle hand on your back led you down a narrow hallway to an even narrower bathroom with a tub about as big as a barrel.
you didn’t mind it after the events of the night, Kate politely closing the door behind you, as you stripped yourself bare and scrubbed the blood away in the tub. slowly, you settled in its lukewarm water in a ball and rocked there, choking back sobs in the privacy of the tight room.
once all your tears were wrung dry, you emerged from the tub, drying yourself and your hair before redressing in your corset, drawers, chemise, and a linen bell sleeve blouse Kate lent you. tucking them into your unruined item—the fringed buckskin split skirt—you pulled your boots on and smoothed the lines of your face in the mirror. like your mama taught you.
when you opened the door of the bathroom, low murmurs and new voices floated down the narrow hall.
“she isn’t supposed to be here, cap’.”
a low husky voice grunted back, “i know that.”
a third man with an even stranger accent than the first two chimed in loudly, “she risked ‘er life for Ghost! Simon said she tracked ‘em for two and a half miles just to warn him about the Turner boys.”
you assumed it was Kate shushing him.
the low, husky voice returned. “it’s not up to us, Soap. she’s Ghost’s now.”
you crept slowly up the hallway, searching for Ghost’s body stretched out on the table, but he wasn’t there. in his place were three men, leaning against the table, deep in conversation with Kate.
you stopped short in the entrance till one of the men, a stout one, thickly corded with muscle, and an unusual looking hairstyle—like the ones you saw in the school books about iroquois from the east—beamed at you.
he shushed a bronze-skinned man at his shoulder, who turned his gaze to you. the third bearded man with thick chops and broad shoulders fell silent, as did Kate, and suddenly, the whole room’s attention was trained on you.
you slowly walked into the room, discomforted by the thick silence. you resisted fumbling at your skirt nervously. the man with a mohawk let out a low whistle and the bearded man swatted at his face while the youngest man stepped forward to politely offer his hand, taking off his hat to press to his chest.
his face was pinched with a stoic look. “i’m Kyle Garrick. pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
your lips parted in surprise when he touched his lips to the back of your extended hand, and you politely curtsied in response, a blush touching your cheeks.
the man with a mohawk stepped in behind him to give you a smug look.
“i’m Soap,” was all he offered. he clapped Kyle on the shoulder. “and this is Gaz. no one calls him Kyle.”
Kyle rolled his eyes in retaliation and released your hand, looking apologetic. you couldn’t help but softly smile as they began to quarrel and the bearded man reached out his hand this time to shake it firmly.
“John Price,” he said with a nod, voice husky. he jerked his head in Soap’s direction. “that’s Johnny Mactavish.”
you murmured a quiet thank you as Kate comfortingly patted your back.
“so this is one-four-one?” you mumbled aloud with raised brows. Soap and Gaz stopped mid-quarrel to peer at you. John shrugged.
“more or less.”
manners be damned, you fidgeted with your skirt. one-four-one was a legendary gunslinger group—on the run from the scarce law of the west, gambling, bounty hunting, and dueling for riches. you had no idea Ghost had friendly ties with them.
“where’s Ghost?”
John smirked at you, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “out.”
nodding, you felt an anxiety roll through you. out could mean anything with Ghost, you learned in your short time with him.
where are you, Ghost? a meek voice in you called out. smoothing a hand over your chest, you steadied yourself as Kate offered you a small plate of breakfast. a piece of cornbread on the side of a bowl of chili that you kept down easily, despite the nervous gurgling of your stomach.
“Turner’s men,” you began softly to Kate, putting down the empty plate, but you still drew in the attention of the other three men, “they’re gone?”
she nodded sullenly, and Soap added, “not without a fight. upturned half the town with them…” his eyes went dark, voice tinged with something violent. “...and left a couple dozen dead bodies.”
John knuckled his shoulder gently. “we’ll get ‘em back, Soap.” he said it like it should be comforting, but there was a deadliness in it that made you shudder.
Soap winked at you. “aye. we’ll kill all those Turner boys if we have to. we already took down half of ‘em yesterday.”
undoubtedly, you knew it was a promise. Kate said quietly, “neighbors said they gunned down a couple of ‘em before they fled town.”
your brows rose. “there were others fighting?”
Kyle shrugged. “it’s the west, ma’am. people’re itchin’ to break the law.”
you thought back to the assailant last night—how he high-tailed it after popping a shot.
“so the man who shot Ghost last night?”
Kyle shrugged again. “probably a drunk lookin’ for trouble. happens all the time in these parts.”
you tried to hide the look of horror curling into your face, something akin to disgust, but Soap, ever-observant, took amusement in it immediately.
“that scare ye, princess?” he leaned against the table, closer to your face, and your frown deepened.
“don’t call me that.” it sounded wrong coming from him.
John grabbed the scruff of his neck and Soap twisted, complaining loudly in his hold. “knock it off, would you? poor girl’s had a rough night.”
you gave John a grateful look. still, you were relieved to know Ghost was only shot by a drunk rather than found and almost killed by one of Turner’s boys. you assumed you got real lucky last night. or maybe unlucky since the drunk’s poor shot happened to pick out Ghost of all people at the club.
“what was Ghost doing in the town last night?” you piqued, and Soap went quiet. the whole room did. sheepish, you watched their gazes slide across the room, avoiding your own.
Soap shot out, “do we tell her?”
Kate hissed in response, scolding him with a tight grip on his ear, and Kyle smacked at the back of his head. you assumed Soap just let a vital piece of information slip from the way John’s mouth twisted.
“tell me what?” you pressed and Kate shooed you out the room, taking your arm in hers.
“help me out with somethin’ else, girlie, and i’ll answer half the questions you ask.”
half the questions, you ruminated with a bitter taste in your mouth. she led you out the door of the leather crafts shop before a word of protest could leave your mouth, and into the bright mid-morning light. shops littered down the street had owners stationed out in front, sweeping up debris, shattered glass, and shoving trash into sacks. Kate tipped her stetson to each one as you passed, and they would nod back in a way that forebode something ominous.
“these are the neighbors,” Kate explained in a low, smart tone. “and this is our town.”
you remembered what Ghost said to your daddy over dinner two nights ago.
i protected you. this was my territory. i had men in your town and i made sure no bandits came near your saloons and i made sure none left alive. then, you went to work with Turner instead.
“and you protect them for a price?” you asked.
she smiled lightly. “a small one.”
your daddy must’ve had an unlucky price to pay if his daughter was the bargaining chip.
“is this the only town you protect?”
Kate laughed at that, patting your hand on her arm gently. “heavens, no. Ghost’s got all kinds of investments from the west to east. he isn’t home much lately because of it.”
your brows raised. “that’s a lot of land to cover.”
“we’ve got a lot of friends from down south to help.”
you cocked your head at her as you turned the corner, making your way past the saloon from last night. the redhead with braids was mopping up the floor of the torn-up saloon, and when you caught her eye, her gaze sliding from you to the woman beside you, she paled.
“friends?”
Kate winked at you. “mexicans. a blessing from the spanish-american war.” when you just blinked at her, she elaborated.
“the boys enlisted in the british regiment to fight the spanish alongside patriots and texan mexicans. i played dress-up as a man to fight in the war.”
your brows raised and she gave you a sly look. “even had a female companion to play the part.”
she continued on. “when the war ended, one-four-one just never left—made friends with lots of boys down in texas. now, they do all sorts of work with us.”
“who?”
“los vaqueros.” the cowboys. you had heard of them too.
you should’ve been scared, connecting the dots, the blood-ties and relationships fused on the battlefield that didn’t break even ten years after the war. these people were dangerous. but in a way, you contemplated, your daddy was too. working with one-four-one, protected by los vaqueros, and bargaining with an enemy, Turner.
and you didn’t even know it.
you wondered if your mama did. thinking of the hardness in her face, and the back-breaking rigidness of her lifestyle, you assumed she carried that weight too.
Kate peered at the edge of your face, catching your eye. “you gonna run away yet?”
you gave her a long look, answering her as truthfully as you could. “no.”
she nodded. “good. because if you do, we may just have to kill you.”
eerily, you were reminded of Ghost two nights ago in the cabin, his arms crossed over his chest and half-asleep despite your attempt to kill him.
good. there’s a lot more dangerous things in the desert than coyotes, princess.
“you sound like Ghost,” you remarked with a grimace, and the long laugh that left Kate was airy and full of menace.
apparently helping out Kate meant running errands, restocking on preserves, fresh foods, and medical supplies. she kindly let you pick out your own stetson hat—a gus style, with three sloping dimples, cream-colored, and a leather brown cord tied round the base in a fashionable bow. your mama would’ve had your head for wearing something so manly, but turning it in your hands, the smooth velvet soft against your palms, your heart swelled at the thought of it being your own.
you would’ve paid for it if you didn’t carelessly lose your knapsack in the chaos last night, tending saloons and singing for drunkards. sighing at the cash register, you deeply lamented its loss and tugged the snug hat onto your head.
one-four-one wasn’t there when you returned to the leather crafts shop. Kate had given you a soft smile, saying they were out on business again. you had a sneaking suspicion that business meant shoot outs over encroached territory and fixing worsening investments.
as you prepared for dinner, it was uncanny to think that you were laying food out over the table where Ghost almost bled out the night before.
sure enough, just before the red crinkles of sunset, one-four-one meandered into the room for dinner, hats left by the hook at the door. you waited expectantly for a tall, broad, black suit and red mask to enter the room, but only deflated with disappointment. Soap shot you a knowing look that you pointedly ignored as the table joined hands to murmur a quick grace before digging in.
you could barely touch the food on your plate. any method you used to get under the boy’s skin about what business meant was quickly parried in clever ways that frustrated you more than your conversations with Kate. it was especially frustrating because you were beginning to think that business may circle around topics about you.
you couldn’t weasel any more information out of them except that John, Gaz, and Soap had rode north to a nearby town they had business in.
you were beginning to hate that word, you thought decidedly, trudging down the narrow hall to a spare bedroom Kate provided to you for the night. one-four-one would descend into the cool basement space with the preserves to their own quarters. you wanted to follow them, to peek down and see what was in there, but Kate was hot on your trail, and you knew they were probably hiding something else about business down there. especially since Kate would be sleeping down there as well.
that left you on the upper floor—which you contemplated with a frown because running away now would be easier than ever. except for the fact that you didn’t have a horse, gun, money, your knapsack, or anything at all in fact. unless you could scrounge around the kitchen a bit.
creeping from your designated room down the hall, you bit back any morsel of regret bleeding into your mouth as you entered the back room. one-four-one had shown you kindness, but technically, they had also kidnapped you and were forcing you to stay in their home. albeit, on your terms, according to Ghost. but you didn’t value the word of a kidnapper very much. even if, in the moment of your capture, you had wanted to leave home and never return again.
oh—and you were being used as a hostage in a business transaction.
that thought spurred you forward blindly, and you rummaged around the kitchen as quietly as you possibly could, pocketing matches, a box of ammo, and a small bunch of rope beneath the kitchen sink. sliding the knife drawer open, you inspected each one carefully, watching the blade glint in the moonlight, before picking up a small one you hoped would go missing without notice.
“stealing my things again?”
you jumped out of your skin with a shriek, and mindlessly turned to the source of sound, brandishing your knife at the intruding form shrouded in shadow. he caught your wrist easily, stepping forward to press you back against the kitchen counter and your heart dropped to your stomach.
dark eyes and a red mask. his hat was off and the black fabric beneath his mask was pulled up enough so you could see his jaw, the soft pink of his mouth and the silvery scar on his upper lip.
“Ghost?” you whispered out, dropping the knife. it clattered to the floor and he tilted his head almost curiously.
for a long moment you just stared in silence, his knee firm between your thighs and broad stature lingering over you, gloved hand tight on your wrist. you searched his eyes, reaching up a hand to brush at his jaw, but he immediately stepped out of your proximity.
“brought you something.” he nodded outside and you looked out the kitchen window to see your dappled gray mare, Sugar, tied to the fence post at the front of the leather crafts store by his black stallion. breath hitching, you pressed your hand to the glass.
“thank you,” you whispered, looking back at him. wordlessly, he turned from you to peel off his black trench coat.
when you noticed him wince, you immediately moved forward to help him out of his coat, laying it out over the table. mumbling a word of gratitude, he sat gingerly in a seat and leaned down to undo his boots. watching him struggle from the tenderness of his wound, you sighed, pushing his hands away to neatly kneel in front of him and smooth over your skirt. then, you carefully helped him pull them off.
“don’t need your help,” he grumbled from above, and you suppressed a smirk. you almost missed his grumpy remarks.
“that so?”
putting down his second boot by his feet, you looked up at him, heart jumping to your throat from the half-lidded look behind his mask. the gloved hand that rested on his thigh by your cheek twitched. you remembered its appearance yesterday—soaked in blood. his blood.
closing your eyes, you nuzzled your cheek into the hand, his palm cupping your face gently before moving down to stroke at your braid. he let out a low throaty sound when you looked up at him from where you kneeled, cheek pressed against his thigh, the fine worsted wool of his dress pants velvet on your skin.
“do you know what you do to a man?” he asked, voice soft. you only hummed back in sing-song question, eyes half-lidded, content where you leaned against the strength of his thigh.
“i searched half the plain for your horse. she got lost in the fray when i got shot.” his hand moved from your braid to your throat, stroking in time with the lulling pulse of your heart, leather cool on your hot skin.
“found her back at the cabin, sniffing around for you. the place was totally upturned, and all the food in my cabinets was gone.” he snickered lightly. “you thief.”
you smiled at that, gripping his wrist weakly.
“i like it when you talk,” you admitted, mesmerized by the slow way his soft lips shaped deep, grating words in that thick foreign accent.
you watched the bob of his bare throat swallow with a hunger pooling in your stomach.
“you should be afraid of me,” he whispered, gently pressing his thumb to your lower lip, “you were afraid of me.”
you couldn’t remember a time when you were afraid of Ghost—only a nervous anticipation crawling across your skin at his proximity. maybe you were never afraid in the first place. maybe you told yourself that you were afraid of him, out of your own unease, when the fear was something that you actually craved.
“i am afraid,” you said. his grip on your chin tightened. “but not of you.”
“who then?” he demanded, voice silky.
“Turner. his men.” an invulnerable shiver went through you. “they said the first man to lay hands on me gets dibs.”
you felt his thigh stiffen beneath you. “i won't let them touch you.”
you swallowed thickly, peering up at him. a dark, sinister voice inside you purred out.
i want you to touch me.
he cocked his head at you, asking a silent question.
i want only you to touch me.
he voiced it. “what do you want?” his hand moved to stroke at your cheek, your brow, your hair.
you never had the luxury of pondering the question. your path was always laid out before you by your mama and daddy. there was no choice. only lingering, bitter feelings of resentment as you fought yourself to believe that tending Daddy’s saloon and entertaining businessmen was the life you wanted.
“i dont know.”
“tell me.”
your face heated with shame. “i want you.”
Ghost went very still. you couldn’t even hear his breaths in the darkness. “you’re sure?”
you nodded against his thigh. “mhmm. want you.”
“i’m the devil,” he murmured, sounding sullen, but you just shook your head.
“you’re Simon,” you corrected, and he flinched beneath you.
letting out a low curse, you didn’t even fight it when he scooped you up in his arms, and pressed you back against the kitchen counters, mask pressed to your hair, warm body against yours. your hand trailed up to press gently at the bullet wound buried beneath his black vest and button up. his hissed at the pressure but didn’t stop you as you moved to unbutton his vest.
“i want to see,” you explained softly, unfastening the thing completely. he tossed the vest onto the table, his holster following it, as you began unbuttoning his dress shirt, splaying out a hand over his warm chest.
he was littered with scars—big and small, and you desperately tried to memorize the placement of each one as you revealed more of his pale skin, inch by inch, till his shirt hung loose at his waist. your eyes swept over the naked expanse of his toned torso and the white bandage soaked through with blood that clutched at the right side of his stomach.
slowly, you unwrapped it till the old dressings fell from his skin and a long line of puckered pink skin punctured through with a dark thread was revealed. you steadied your breath, brushing a hand over it. Ghost shifted overhead, leaning his weight onto the counter behind you.
“does it hurt?”
you couldn’t see his face, but his voice was wrung through in your ear. “no.”
the corner of your mouth twitched. “didn’t take you for a liar, Ghost.”
he just grunted in response. you smoothed your hands over the warmth of his torso.
“let me take care of you?” you offered, and his breath went shallow. you didn’t even know how to take care of someone. you had no idea what you were doing. but you offered anyway.
you could feel him smile into your hair, nose pressed to your ear. “always so polite, princess.”
you felt him tug your hair loose of its braid, and you took in a sharp breath as it fell in waves around your shoulders. he pulled off his gloves quickly, taking a handful of it, pressing the softness of your hair to his cheek. you shuddered.
“you won’t do a thing tonight, lovely,” he commanded lowly, and you nodded, hands clutching at his chest as he circled his strong arms around you. forehead pressed to yours, you looked up through his mask to find his rich brown eyes on you. his warm breath hit your lips.
he tilted his head in a gesture down the hall. “want you on that bed now.”
you complied immediately, taking him in your hand, going down the hall with one of his hands burning straight through the fabric at where he tightly gripped at your hip. crowding you into the room, and the door sealed tight behind you, he turned you by your hips, and gently pulled back your hair to expose your neck to him. you gasped when the soft wetness of his mouth kissed over it gently, his arm curling around you to pull you flush together.
a steady heat pooled in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.
“Ghost…” you begged, not even knowing what you were begging for. he hummed against your skin, undoing the clasp of your holster, then your skirt. you felt embarrassed by your clunky attire, kicking off your boots, hiding your face into his bare chest as he slid the article off your legs.
“don’t hide,” he warned in a light tone, expertly taking apart the back of your blouse to leave you only in your undergarments. the look behind his mask was dark and domineering, leaving you shaking in his hold. he smoothed a bare hand over your shoulder and arm, lifting the inside of your wrist to press a kiss there, before he was kissing up your arm in a hot trail.
when he reached your jaw, a foreign and breathy noise left your throat. his eyes snapped back up to yours, pausing his ministrations as you blushed deeply. you didn’t know what those sounds meant—only that they left you feeling utterly sinful for being so exposed to an older man, unmarried, and so innocent.
you swallowed when Ghost’s hands went to the back of your corset, undoing its clasps blindly as he pressed more kisses to your neck, your cheek, and the corner of your lips. you squeaked, screwing your eyes shut and found yourself disappointed when he paused again.
panting, your brows pinched in confusion. Ghost was leaning a bit back now, looking down at you with an imperceptible expression.
“what? why’d you stop?” you whispered, scared to break the moment, but he unabashedly cut through the quiet of the room. “How much do you know about going to bed with someone?”
you squeaked again, stupidly looking around the room as if your mama may have been hiding in the wardrobe. the look on Ghost’s face twisted into pure amusement, much to your chagrin, and you cursed yourself for the complete absence of confidence in you—like it had all run dry with your cheek pressed to his thigh under the dinner table.
“i know…” you fumbled for a word, “...a lot. so much.”
Ghost huffed, taking one of your hands pressed to your chest and sliding it down, past his belt, to the front of his pants. you yelped when he closed your hand around something hard, something throbbing.
“you know what this is then?”
you nodded dumbly.
“really?” you had no idea.
you nodded again, and he laughed lowly, cupping a hand around the back of your neck to kiss your cheek softly, his cool mask brushing your skin.
he unclasped the top of your corset, and you jolted when pulled it slowly from your torso. the cold air of the room bit at your skin and you wrapped your arms over your chest. grumbling in disapproval, he let the thing clatter to the floor and untangled your arms from your chest, pushing you back onto the bed.
“don’t worry, lovely,” he slew sloppy, wet kisses over your breast and stomach, lightly nipping at the chub there, and a loud sound flew from your mouth from the ministration, your back arching in response. “i can teach you everything.”
a large palm slid over your stomach, keeping you pinned there with a dark look, black eyes pitched in a silver from the moonlight. “would you like that, lovely?”
you nodded wildly, clutching at his hand splayed over your tummy.
“please, Simon,” you called softly, and a guttural sound left the back of his throat as he hooked a thumb beneath the waist of your lacey drawers and pulled them down, letting them pool around your knees for a moment as he leaned down over you to placing a comforting kiss to your shoulder.
then, you were bare, splayed out in the moonlight beneath his muscled stature. you squirmed in his hold, pressing your thighs together around his arm, but he pried them apart easily, baring your most sensitive parts to him. your whole body flushed when his eyes honed in on the throbbing between your legs, humming deeply. you yelped as he greedily tugged you to the edge of the bed, gingerly settling on his knees on the floor in front of you.
“your wound—” you cried out in surprise, but you were cut short when he buried his nose between your legs and breathed in deeply.
“Simon,” you called, voice breathy and panting, like you’d just run a far distance, and your hips jolting up against your will. there was a strange deep coiling in your stomach—a growing ache you felt like you needed to relieve with a crazy thirst.
he wrapped two strong arms round your thighs to pin your squirming hips down, nosing around the soft folds and plushness of your inner thighs.
“patience,” he said, voice soft, and you keened, unsure what to do with your hands clenching and fumbling around the sheets. catching your wrists, he pinned them down to the bed along with your thighs.
you felt the strange primal need to beg—to plead for his forgiveness, your whole body alight from the way he held your body in a bind, baring yourself to him.
“please,” you whimpered, unsatisfied with the way he continued to kiss and bite at your thighs, licking over them and periodically sucking the skin into his mouth. you canted your hips up, moaning when you found a delicious bout of friction against his turned jaw.
with a grunt of disapproval, he pinned you roughly back down to the bed.
“greedy are we, pretty thing?”
biting your lip, you didn’t feel an ounce of shame as you nodded. you needed that friction again. you didn’t know why, but you felt like you needed to grind against something desperately, just to relieve that sore aching inside you.
humming, Ghost lowered his mouth between your legs, eyes on yours as he gently blew cold air over the throbbing heat of you. you whined at that, hips trying to buck up, but he was just too strong.
“hurts,” you admitted in a whimper, and his eyes darkened.
“what hurts?”
you squirmed, whimpering helplessly, face flushing. “there.”
“where?” he asked, his lips twisted in a smug way.
you threw your head back, chest pushing up into the air with a frustrated whine.
“here?” he offered, his tongue coming out to lap over the throbbing thing between your legs. at that you gasped with a jolt, chasing his tongue. “this pretty little cunt aching?”
“yes,” you gasped, his tongue coming down to caress your core again and again, till it was lapping at it, almost playing with it.
the feeling was intense, nothing like you’d ever felt before. it bloomed like a fire in your throat, quenching the intense ache in your stomach, but every time he pulled away, the ache only grew stronger and stronger, like you needed to chase the pleasure with even more pleasure.
it was torture. you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
the sight of him between your legs was so sinful, so wrong for a man to be lapping at you in such a forbidden place. but that intense feeling hung over everything in a foggy haze, blanketing any sense of foreboding shame that rang in the back of your brain.
there was only Ghost now—pinning your wrists and thighs to the bed, tongue rubbing strong circles into your fleshy pink skin.
when he pulled back, you almost cried out in frustration but he pinned you with a dark look of warning, releasing your wrists to bring a thumb to your cunt. he rubbed at in fast circles and a breathy moan escaped you, arching against the sheets.
he cooed. “so sensitive. you never touch yourself before, pretty thing?”
you choked out a reply. “no—it’s,” you gasped when his tongue came down to lap at your entrance, drawing teasing patterns over it, hooking inside then drawing out.
“sinful.” you finished with a drawl and he pushed his tongue inside, fucking you out of your wits with the wet muscle.
he hummed inside you, the tremors traveling all the way up to the place where he was rubbing with his thumb. you clutched at his hand, willing it to move faster, and he complied immediately. your body lost a fiber of control with every passing second.
“you look like you’re enjoying it, though,” he spoke against you with a smug look. you barely heard him, a foreign sensation building in you so fast, the words of warning died in your throat.
“you like getting fucked out with my tongue? my thumb on your clit?”
“you like being my good little whore, pretty thing?”
“say my name, princess.”
his low, gruff words went straight to the blooming heat in your stomach, traveling straight to your cunt, and exploding out to your swollen clit as you chanted his name.
Simon, Simon, Simon.
every throbbing wave gripped you with an intensity, clenching around his tongue in delicious rolls of pleasure that had you squirming in the sheets, unable to keep still as he pulled you through a slew of ecstasy.
Simon.
colors exploded behind your eyelids, jaw slack, you slowly laxed into the bed, melting as the sweet noises in your throat eventually subsided.
there was a lulling stillness in the room as your senses slowly came back to you, and you realized Ghost was speaking in a throaty, cracked murmur to you, voice raw and overused.
“good girl,” he praised, and you looked up at him, leaning into his palm as he affectionately rubbed at your cheek, clambering over you to press a kiss to your ear, the tip of your nose.
his warm breath against your lips had you jolting to life, slapping a hand over his mouth with a gasp. he jolted against you and you scrambled up straighter, seized by what you had just done.
you, naked and bare on the bed, and he, shirt unbuttoned and jaw splashed with your slick. a question burned in the dark eyes behind his mask but you just made haste to cover your body with the sheets, scurrying out of his hold.
he called your name out, voice dark and pinched. he reached for you, but you held up a hand.
“don’t,” you warned, gripped with such a burning shame that tears filled your eyes. you quickly wiped at them relentlessly, but more reappeared in their stead, and you drew the covers around your shoulders, unable to contain the shaking that wracked your body.
burying your face in your hands, thoughts convulsed wildly in your head. what have you done? what would your mama think? your daddy?
you whimpered. what would the lord think?
you shook so hard you barely noticed the black button up sleeve that Ghost wrapped around your shoulders, taking the sleeves to loosely tie them around your neck. he settled a fair distance from you, eyes full and glinting.
“alright, pretty girl?” he asked gingerly when your sobbing subsided.
you sniffled, voice strained and throaty. “no.”
you gave him a miserable look. “we’re not married.”
he tilted his head, mouth opening and closing. his hand clenched at the sheets then relaxed again.
“i don’t wanna be a whore,” you cried, feeling dumb as you wiped at the tears coming down your cheeks in an onslaught.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “is this because i called you a—”
“no!” you shouted immediately, then lowered your voice with a quick apology.
he slid to your side, flush against you and warm through the sheets. he pressed his mask to your hair.
“no one’ll think you’re a whore,” he mumbled, playing with your hair in his fingers, “you’re mine already.”
there was a deadpanned simplicity in his voice that made it easy to believe.
he took your tear-stained face in his hands. “besides, you’re too polite, princess. even in all that cowboy get-up.”
staring into his masked face, you nodded, chewing what he was feeding you slowly. he angled your face gently. when his lips made a slow descent to yours, you squeaked with a jolt and tried to scurry out of his hold, but he held fast, grunting with effort.
“what now?” he asked, exasperation flitting through his eyes, clenching at his jaw.
“i don’t kiss before a date—s’not proper!” you shot back with twice as much ire, and his eyes went wide before a huff of laughter escaped him.
“that so?”
you rolled your eyes. “yes.”
he hummed low, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “so proper, princess.”
you suppressed a laugh, trying to conceal your giggle with a frustrated huff, but Ghost didn’t fall for it as he drew you into arms, easily man-handling you into his desired position beneath the sheets before he slid into them behind you, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.
you were pulled into a soft wall of warmth and bowing strength, curling around you in a sleepy hold. you couldn’t fight it even if you tried. he shifted against you, and you gasped when you felt something hard digging into the fleshy curve of your backside.
shooting a curious look over your shoulder, Ghost only offered you a lazy blink.
“don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he mumbled, drawing you in closer.
“but—”
“i don’t talk about those kinds of things before a date,” he said under his breath, and you could only laugh, relishing the way his lips curled into a smile against your hair.
an easy silence filtered into the room and you reached back behind you to grip at his shoulder, his neck, his skin. you took a deep breath. he was real. he was alive.
he slid his arms around your sides as a bind over your stomach, and you clutched weakly at the muscle of his arms smothering you.
“i thought you were going to die,” you ruminated softly, feeling a natural force pulling down on your eyelids.
“ghosts don’t die,” he reminded you, his lips against your neck.
“devils don’t either,” you said, and he grunted in disapproval.
“you think i’m the devil, lovely?” his fingers stroked at your cheek. you leaned into his touch thoughtfully.
“maybe,” you answered in a truthful nod. “i don’t mind it though. i can make you good.”
his laugh was mirthless. “doubt you can, princess.”
you swallowed hard and closed your eyes. “you won’t ransom me back to my daddy, will you?”
you took his silence as a warning, an uneasy toil rolling through you. shifting in his arms, you turned to face him, the fabric of his mask pulled back down over his jaw, heavy gaze bearing down on you, half-lidded and sleepy. he just pulled you flush against his chest so you couldn’t see his masked face anymore, only the sounds of his deep, steady breaths in your ear that dragged you into a restless sleep.
p.s.: to any history buffs out there, i know that technically there was no actual british regiment in the spanish-american war but let's pretend that there was for the sake of plot holessss
...also imagining Gaz talk in a thick southern drawl was so funny to me he's so adorable
anyways hoped you enjoyed this long, self-indulgent chapter! more coming soon :]
#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#cod smut#call of duty mwii#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#ghost mw2#ghost smut#ghost fluff#ghost angst#simon riley fluff#simon riley x y/n#call of duty
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May I put in a request for fake dating HCs with rich Abby x poor reader? Like... Cinderella gone wrong almost lmao. It would be my nightmare as a person who doesn't understand or care much for fancy shit
we be putting reader in some SITUATIONSSSSS jesus give her a break.
but this idea lowkey eats like…
RICH!ABBY X POOR!READER FAKE DATING HCS 🦪
rich!abby paying you to pretend to be her girlfriend for two weeks so she can make her milan model gf jealous. (literally wtf.) she takes you to a bunch of salons to change up your style so you look how she wants you to.
you literally fucking despise her and it’s insane because she offered you the job after rudely ordering her coffee from you while on her phone NOT SAYING HI OR NOTHING JUST “can i get a blah blah blah..” like girl…came in wearing the craziest put together blouse and shorts situation too. her assistant quit or something idk.
“don’t smile, atleast not with your mouth, and pretend like you like kissing me.”
one night you’re staying in her high rise apartment (🙄) and there’s only glass water bottles and private chef food in the kitchen and all you want is a burger so she sends someone to get it for you (her being nice for once) and she forgets ur not in public for a second and kisses your forehead:)
can barely hide her attraction to you. i mean that’s why she asked u to do this in the first place, you’re hot as fuck. standing behind you to zip up your dress in the mirror and the tension is intenseeeeee. hand on the small of your back while she whispers “you look pretty.” into your left ear and when you shudder she smiles like a fucking idiot asshole cocky motherfucker thinking about how you’d shake underneath her…who said that???
lowkey two weeks pass and she’s like “no we have to keep going nadia is still not texting me back. two more weeks, i’ll pay you double.” knowing damn well she just can’t get enough of your kiss prints all over her neck. FREAK!
#bunnie can speak? ☆#rich!abby#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#bun’s asks ꕤ#abby anderson#bun’s precious abby ✧.*#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson fic#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson hcs#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson headcanons
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fic recs; my absolute favorite works
hi there, i decided to put together a list of my absolute favorite fanfics, please check out the writers and their other works! & the list is in no order of liking
to the writers: thank you so much for writing these, i enjoyed each and every one of your fanfics, pls write more, love michelle <3
navigation
angelic by @xreaderbooks (pls, my heart <3)
everything black by @firsttimewriter92 (came back to this one at least twice, girl- so good!!)
i see you by @hermioneshandbag (girl, girl- this was so good)
teaching a moderately old dog new tricks by @spxllcxstxr (got me blushing <3)
cherry bomb by @evanpeterswhoresblog ( chefs kiss, love love loved it <3)
dream guy by @themissingweasley26 (cute, loved it <3)
marrón by @amortentiainmyfirewhiskey (got me feeling like the baddest bitch)
i am half-agony, half hope...i have loved none but you by @sunnami (GIRL girl girl- this- i swear to god, it has me in a chokehold. your brilliant mind <3)
poly!marauders x reader - drunk james & reader by @moonstruckme (there's no title but, this was so cute)
i'll love you 'til the grass around my gravestone is deceased by @mybutcheredtongue (so cute, i love post azkaban sirius, your brilliant mind, god i love this!)
identation in the shape of you by @whorediaries-09 (i love post azkaban sirius & this comforted me so so much, i loved it <3)
i can't lose when i'm with you by @neytirisheaven (so good, i came back several times for this, loved it sooo much <3)
coward by @luv4freddie (girl- so good, i love love loved it <3)
foreign fancy by @princessconsuela120 (got me kicking my feet and smiling, girl-<3)
the american by @justagirlwholikesadam (i love this different take, so good that i came back to it several times, i loooved it <3)
pretty boy by @cloudybarnes (harry fics have a special place in my heart & i looooved this one <3)
revenge is a dish best served cold by @wonderlandwalker (so good, had me on my toes, i looooved it <3)
forget me, not by @folklvrsworld (girl- if u want a good cryin' sesh, read it, it was soo gooood, girl-<3)
come back, be here by @ellecdc (girl, girl, stop what u're doin' & read this, i loved every single word <3)
i am yours by @annabelinlove (i love poly!marauders fics & this one is a pretty good one, read it. now! loved it <3)
sad beginnings by @finelinevogue (wolfstar fics got me feeling some type of way, this is sooo goood <3)
just ours by @0x81 (wolfstar, what else should i say, read it, like yesterday, got me blushing and shit-)
the stash by @thebestofoneshots (if someone knows how to write smut than it's this writer, like how do u write like this- i'm speechless, flabbergasted <3)
divorcing orion black by @kquil (i've never quite read something like this, it's so so so good. pls more<3)
azkaban prison by @justsomerandomfanfic (i'd die for sirius black & this one in particular, more more more pls <3)
heroes in tattoos by @kquil (i'd die to read this for the first time again, like-I'm coming back to this whenever i have a rough day and i love it still, so goood <3)
new romantics by @pretty-little-mind33 (i love me a good james potter fic & this one has my feet kickin' & smilin' like an idiot <3)
injured (hip) by @hollowdeath (i love enimies to lovers & harry so- pls read it, it's great <3)
the one with the blouse by @super-clearlysaltybouquet (oh, how i love angst. i love love love angsty shit & this one was pure gold <3)
love potion and unspoken desires by @cyripticchronicler (amortentia stories are one of my favorites, this was absolutely great, read. it. now!)
#harrypotter#hp fanfic#marauders era#marauders imagine#the marauders#sirius black#harry potter fanfic#remus lupin#remus lupin imagine#wolfstar#wolfstar imagine#james potter#fic rec#fanfic recommendation#fanfic rec#fanfiction
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Why You Should Always Use Your Best Now Instead of Saving it for Later
🌹 Because you deserve to feel your best every day, not just on occasions.
🌹 Because "later" rarely comes.
🌹 Because you're just wasting your own money if you buy some high-quality makeup or skincare products just for them to expire barely used because you wanted to save them for an occasion.
🌹 Because life is unpredictable. What if a guest drops by unexpectedly and you're eating from a chipped plate or a tupperware container? What if you see your ex, or your crush, or meet the love of your life, or see your boss, or see someone who was mean to you in school, and you're wearing a worn-out hoodie and sweatpants with a hole? Many of us would feel self-conscious if something like that happened, but it can be avoided if you wear nice clothes and use your good china instead of keeping it hidden away for some possible future special event.
🌹 Because what's the point in having beautiful floral china, just for it to gather dust while you eat off of chipped plates and mismatched mugs? What's the point in owning silk blouses and cashmere jumpers, just for them to stay in your closet for months or years while you wear ratty t-shirts and sweatpants? What's the point in buying high quality makeup, just for it to spoil while you wear cheap stuff that's hard to put on and makes your face look cakey? Why own beautiful belongings just for them to never see the light of day?
🌹 Because using your best every day will show that you genuinely live well, instead of coming across as a phony when you meet the Joneses.
🌹 Because it's sad, after someone passes away, to see their fancy china, beautiful clothes, and other treasures in storage, rarely or never used, always waiting for an occasion that never came. If you won't use your best, who will? Life is short.
🌹 Because using your best everyday doesn't have to mean that special occasions will feel less special. Instead of only bringing out the good dinnerware for guests, use it everyday, but make occasions feel different with a spectacular floral arrangement, or with classical music on in the background instead of the TV. Wear your good foundation and mascara everyday, but wear a bolder makeup look for an event.
🌹 Because people's tastes change throughout the years. What if you buy something, keep it for later, and by the time later comes, you don't like it at all anymore?
🌹 Because special occasions still feel special even when you don’t use your best for them.
🌹 Because using beautiful items instead of settling for mediocrity elevates a normal day from feeling mundane to feeling decadent and luxurious.
Wear your good makeup. Wear your chic clothes. Put on your good skincare products. Doodle in your pretty notebooks. Burn your fancy candles. Spray your expensive perfume. Drink the expensive gifted wine. Eat the gourmet chocolates. Live in the now, not the uncertain future. Honour yourself by allowing yourself to use these special treasures.
#level up#levelling up#hypergamy#femininity#glow up#dream girl journey#hyperfemininity#hyperfeminine#it girl#girlblogging#chic#levelling up journey#self care#that girl#high maintenance#stardust swan#personal development#luxury aesthetic#pink pilates girl#that girl aesthetic#high value woman#prissy girl
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◆NSFW under "Keep Reading"
◆cw: smut ft dom!zhongli x sub!reader, reader is half dragon, breeding kink (?), size difference, oral (reader recieving), pet name use (good girl), probably more qwq
◆ Part 1 ◆ Part 2 ◆
Zhongli's Dragon, Part 3: Helping Hands
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You whimpered into Zhongli's addictive touch, your claws wrapping around his shoulders and taking a firm hold on his incredibly fancy robes as he laid kiss upon kiss along the length of your neck, hands squeezing and massaging the plush of your inner thighs. You wanted more, you needed more, and you knew that he needed it too.
The way his hands were twice the size of yours, the way his muscular frame pushed your body around with ease, the way his pupils blew out in a fit of animalistic lust- everything he did, everything about him only aided the hot and heavy atmostphere of his once dignified office.
Pulling back, he graced his long, masculine fingers along the soft skin of your sides as he pulled your silken blouse over your head, followed by your pretty little white bra. Your gleaming eyes met for only a moment before he dove back into your neck, kissing and suckling as though you were made of pure candy, while your own fingers dove under the hem of your pants to pull them off, earning a chuckle out of Zhongli, "So eager now, hmm?" he cooed, his voice so seductively smooth that it felt as though it were putting you into a trance. His firm kisses pushed you down to lay on your back and relax as they migrated from your now bruised neck down to your chest, turning from gentle pecks to ravenous licks and suckles as he took your breast into his mouth and returned his hands to your thighs. One of your hands seemed to have a mind of its own, releasing the grip on his clothed shoulder to tangle into his silky, dark locks. He hummed, seemingly amused by your greedy actions, and peered up to meet your eyes once again. They almost pierced through you, his burning orange gaze struck a sense of awareness of just how lucky you felt to have someone like Zhongli, Rex Lapis, Morax, the Geo Archon, in your life, no matter what name he may go by.
His hands began to grow closer and closer to the sopping wetness between your sensitive legs, albeit teasingly slow, before his middle and ring finger played at your folds, snaking their way between them to grace your clit. A harsh moan erupted from your throat and your grasp on the robes adorning his shoulders turned dangerously tight, nearly to the point of ripping them due to your claws. Letting go of your now hardened nipple from his mouth, he sat up, making you whimper as his hands vacated your body, "Tsk, tsk. We can not have those pretty claws of yours ripping my robes to shreds, now can we? What would i wear then?" he said, a sly grin crossing his face. You knew it was just an excuse for him to finally take off his clothes, though it wasnt something you were against. In fact, the sudden overwhelming desire to see his fully unclothed body over yours nearly shot a moan through your teeth. Upon seeing his bare, hardened chest, you could feel your arousal double- no, triple, at least. You didnt know you needed this sight engraved into your brain until now, and you were going to take every chance you got to soak it all in.
Zhongli leaned over you once again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss before lowering himself to come face-to-face with your pussy. He groaned at the sight, drool pooling in his mouth as the tantalizing aroma of your arousal filled his sensitive, already worked up nose. The fact that he was able to control himself and not pin you down to fuck you senselessly right then and there was nothing short of a miracle.
You blushed harshly, feeling exposed and self-conscious as Zhongli stared at your needy cunt for a moment too long. Whimpering, you peered down to him, unsure if he was regretful of indulging in the moment or starstruck, "Z-Zhongli..? I-is everything oka-" your plea was cut off as with a pathetically loud moan as he suddenly dove into your wetness, his forked tongue pushing deep inside your core to lap up every glistening drop of arousal he could reach. You gasped again and again, cawing his name like a chant and begging him for more between breathless pants. His eyes closed, lost in the heavenly sweetness of your wetness, as his thumb incessantly circled over your clit, pressing and pushing at the exact places you so desperately needed him to as though he could read your mind- though, by the way you bucked and writhed each time he found the right spot, you might as well be speaking your mind loud and clear. Zhongli moaned at the unforgettably delicious taste of your pussy with each attempt he made to puck up more of your spilling juices, the vibrations very quickly sending you teetering on the edge of orgasm.
"T-there, Zhongli, more, m-more..." you begged, bucking your throbbing pussy up to meet his thrusting tongue and tireless fingers as he pleasured you.
Zhongli momentarily lifted his head, eyes half lidded and lower face glistening with the mess youve made of him, so that he could once again take in the sight of your needy, lewd expression. He would never grow tired of it, and each time you graced him with one, it was as though Celestia herself had sent a gift just for him, "Mmhh... Such a good girl..." he said, chuckling lowly as his tongue returned to your aching cunt, "Be a good little dragon and come for me, (y/n)."
That was all it took for you to fall over the edge. You basically screamed his name, your fingers tightening in his hair as you subconsciously pushed his face down into your pussy as you begged him for more, to keep going, to not stop. And he loved it.
Zhongli kept his tongue thrusting in and out of you and his thumb abusing your clit the entire ride through your high, only stopping once your thighs let go of his head and your moans settled to pitiful pants. He rose up from between your legs, hovering over your body on all fours as you lay, vulnerable and exposed, on the floor of his office, "You're lucky that everyone else has already left for the day. Otherwise..." he said, leaning down to whisper against your ear as his strong hand, still wet with your own slick, cupped your cheek, "everyone would have heard those delicious moans and known just how much you love it when your boss eats you out." he teased, causing you to deeply blush. Your hands rose up to his chest, tracing the lines of his collarbone and the muscles adorning his almost inhuman body, as you realized what came next- the main course.
Zhongli noticed the change in expression and gingerly kissed you, your cheek still cupped in his hand, before ever so slightly lowering his hips to grind his hardened cock against your folds.
"It has taken a lot of self-restraint to not pin you to the floor and breed you until you are nothing but a whimpering mess, but once i start fucking you, i dont think i will be able to hold back any longer."
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a/n: Ah i am so sorry this took so long to write ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) i hope it is enjoyable to make up for it at least qwq
#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#zhongli smut#genshin impact x you#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#smut#zhongli#zhongli x reader#zhongli genshin x reader#zhongli x y/n#zhongli x you#◆zhongli's dragon
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Pairings: Huh Yunjin x Ceo fem reader!
Warnings: Yunjin is a pervert, tit job, subby Yunjin, reader has kinda big boobs, body worship, not proofread, use of straps, mention of pregnancy and breeding, breeding kink, filthy smut, basically porn with plot!!!!
word count: about 1,2 k
request!
꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰꒰⁐
The first time Yunjin met you was in her first ever job interview, and poor girl forgot her whole speech that she was last night trying so hard to memorize. She was a little bit early for the interview so your secretary let her sit in your office, waiting for you on the black leather chair in front of your expensive looking desk. Your name was written on a name tag on the desk.
“Y/n L/n!” Yunjin tasted the name few times, it was a unique and memorable name, not many people having it.
She took a big gulp of the fancy welcome drink, even the free welcome fucking drink was something an average employee wouldn’t afford, but here you are giving them daily for free.It seemed like money was like rice to you.
Yunjin got out of her thoughts when hearing a door getting unlocked, she saw your curves from your silhouette, you stepped in the room before locking the door behind you.
You studied Yunjins features while she just sat there mouth in an o:shape and eyes wide. Your eyes traveled to the drink that was in front of her, on the small table in front of the leather chair and it was almost empty.
“You must have liked the welcome drink!” You said, flashing a sweet sincere smile towards her way before sitting down on your chair.
Yunjin was awestruck, no, flabbergasted. In a good way of course, you were the sexiest woman she has ever saw and in the most beautiful way.
Your aura alone could make anyone fall in love, the type of femme fatale but the sweet version, expensive old money, and the little bit older type of woman.
Your tight skirt complimenting your curves and ass, the first two buttons from your blouse unbuttoned, the valley of your boobs slightly showing while your hair was down your shoulders. And the most gorgeous genuine smile on your face. She had literal heart eyes staring at you, and you noticed.
You damn well know you are good looking, in fact you, yourself think that you are gorgeous and sexy. The vibe of your confidence was being sensed and that also made you even more attractive.
You immediately noticed that Yunjin was slightly out of it, pupils blown and eyes having sparkles while only humming at your question.
“I asked you a question miss Yunjin!” You said timidly, eyes looking at her and as soon as she processed what you said she looked embarrassed.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was low and she looked at you in hopes you could repeat the question.
“I don’t really like to repeat myself miss Yunjin.” You stood from your chair walked towards where she was sitting and sat on the other leather chair that was in front of her chair.
She gulped nervously. Her eyes couldn’t help but to travel to your chest, her mouth watered at the way your elbows were pushing your plushy tits together.
The only thought in her head was to suck on those like a baby, only if she had a dick she swore she would breed you till those tits were spilling milk.
She didn’t notice how you moved towards one of your drawers and took one of your favorite pink glitter straps, and sat again in front of her the strap in your hand.
Her eyes looked at it and you swore her jaw could have went out of place. Her eyes looking at you curiously but there was a hint of excitement. That made you excited to have her bounce this gummy material.
“Come here” you demanded and in her whole life she wasn’t this fast to follow orders, she was in front of you standing looking eyes full of hope and excitement. Arousal was gushing down her panties that you almost could smell it. While she fiddled with her hands.
“Undress me.” You said giving her a smug grin. She looked slightly hesitant of what you said. Rethinking did she heard you correctly but at the end her hand found your blouse buttons.
Buttoning them so fast that she almost ripped them. Her eyes were all over your chest. From the lacy bra straps to your nipples. You wore a sexy black lace bra, just like what she could have imagined someone like you wearing, but oh this was ten times better now that she’s seeing it in real life.
Her hand squeezed your boob without even asking and you couldn’t even deny her, at the end this felt heavenly. She went towards your back and unclasped the bra. The lacy material falling to the ground. Her wet muscle licked your sensitive bud, a shiver running down your spine while she let out a loud moan of satisfaction.
Her hand traveled down to your skirt, sliding it down revealing the lacy black panties that were matching with your bra. Your own wetness slightly damping the leather chair while she was dangerously close to your core, she licked a stripe your wetness, the intoxicating taste filling her taste buds.
“Fuck, you taste so good.” She mumbled, her head falling back. You wore the strap and signaled Yunjin to come. She tossed her clothes somewhere in your office before sinking down on the glittery material.
You held her hips firmly and your touch made her melt, she was all smily and giggly, jumping up and down on the pink strap. Curses falling out of her mouth while loud whimpers found their way from her vocal cords.
It was the hottest sight indeed, she was fucking herself so desperately. She took one of your boobs before trying to make it fit in her mouth, even after knowing that no way that would fit in her mouth. She sucked so hard, that you felt your nipples being sore and your chest was full of red-ish and purple-ish marks. She continued thrusting herself down your length.
The pad of your finger went towards her clit rubbing it roughly, helping her to cum faster. High pitched moans now louder while your other hand gripped her waist to ease her down on the strap.
She felt in cloud nine, anytime soon she would be splashing her juices down your core. Her eyes rolled back deeply every time your strap reached a sensitive toe curling point. Hitting every spot perfectly.
Her hand was grasping your hair harshly, her nails sinking down your scalp.
“I-I’m..c-cumming!” She screamed out before her juices ran down her thighs and the strap, soaking your stomach.
She pounded herself on the material slowly but deeply. Riding out her orgasm.
“I should hire you, you impressed me!” You combed her hair with your free hand while her head was on the crook of your neck.
“But before that, you should show me how good you can do.” You continued and she looked at you all smily while nodding her head fast. Getting off your lap and taking off the strap from you, wearing it herself.
She definitely would be your favorite worker!
#huh yunjin smut#huh yunjin x reader smut#huh yunjin x you#huh yunjin x fem reader#huh yunjin x reader#le sserafim smut#le sserafim x fem reader#le sserafim x reader#le sserafim yunjin smut#le sserafim yunjin#yunjin smut#yunjin x reader#yunjin x fem reader#le sserafim#le sserafim huh yunjin#jennifer huh#jennifer smut#huh yunjin#yunjin
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WORKPLACE SLEAZY DENKI!!!! WORKPLACE SLEAZY DENKI!!!! AAAAAHHH
starting a new office job you expected lots of things, shitty coworkers, terrible pay, rubbish hours, you didn't expect some hot annoying blonde who's acting like he's made it his personal mission to make your life a misery every single time you walked into the office by spilling things and overall being accident prone.
the first day it was all smiles and extra fancy clothes, you wanted to make a good impression after all. you spent most of the morning at your desk but at lunch you rushed to go get a cup of tea from the break room as you were short on time in the morning. that was when you first met him... denki kaminari, flirtatiously talking to a couple of girls next to him and leaning against the wall casually, much to casual in your opinion, the two girls giggling at whatever he said. when he spots you looking at him he winks, you quickly turn around and do what you originally came to do.
denki immediately lost interest in those girls as he saw you, finding you much more interesting. you must be new because he definitely would've noticed a pretty little thing like you around the office. denki excuses himself from the conversion and goes over to you, standing too close to you and crowding your personal space. "i haven't seen you around here before, you must be a new hire right? i'm kaminari, denki kaminari." he gives you a boyish grin and your cheeks flush due to the proximity of such an attractive man who you've just spoken to for the first time. you introduce yourself and chat for awhile, only for a couple minutes, before you get back to your desk, him asking you about your life and your last job, small talk, that's all. he seems interested in what you have to say and you're happy that at least someone at your new job will be nice to you.
half of him is interested in what you're saying but mainly he's distracted by your plump body and how biteable your lips move as you talk. you look so much prettier than all the other girls in the office and he knows that he'll be talking to you everyday. he notes that your voice sounds sweet too, even though he's barely paying attention to what words you're saying.
you've been working together for ten months now and at the beginning it was fine, you didn't notice what his real intentions. three weeks in he 'accidentally' spilled hot coffee on you, a small whimper escaped your mouth due to the shock but you didn't notice the tiny smirk that appears on his face before quickly disappearing. your white blouse is entirely ruined and the fabric is sticking to your chest. "oh shit, i'm sorry i didn't see where i was going. are you okay? i'm sorry, i'll clean it and oh i'll buy you a new one." you go to forgive him after hearing how genuine he sounds but you're stopped in your tracks when denki pulls out some tissues and starts wiping your shirt with the tissues. you're stunned as you feel him press the tissue down against your breasts and rubs, " 'm sorry again, we've got to get it out now or it'll stain." if you heard denki's thoughts at that moment you'd never speak to him again, 'this worked out even better than i thought.'
you were on your guard at that point around denki, at least you tried to be but he's so friendly to everyone it's hard for you to think denki would do such a thing on purpose. when he notices you've withdrawn yourself slightly and started speaking to him less he corrects it. in the morning denki brings you a cup of tea that he knows you drink and a cookie from the cafe he knows you like to go to. "i really am sorry about spilling coffee on you again. i still want to get you another blouse but i don't know what size you are, i'm not very good at those types of things." he wants you to tell him exactly what size you are with all of your clothes, he thinks that might create a more accurate picture in his mind when he jerks off at the thought of you every night. you let your guard down at the gesture and you can't help but feel guilty for thinking that denki would purposely spill a drink on you.
whenever you go to the break room it seems like denki is right behind you. he leans against the doorframe and slouches on the chairs. when you're making a drink he'll come right up behind you to get a mug from the shelf, he'll be so close at that point you can feel his breath against you and you know that if you leaned back just the slightest your bodies would make contact. denki hopes that one day you'll lean back and he'll be able to feel your ass against his crotch.
his favourite days at the office is when you wear tighter or shorter clothes than normal that show your full figure. when you wear those pencil skirts that show your soft supple tummy denki has to palm his dick, over his trousers, under his desk. it's physically impossible for him to look away from you when you sit down and your plush thighs increase in size or when you wear short sleeve shirts meaning he can see the stretch marks that decorate your skin. possibly his favourite thing though is when your shirts are tighter and the fabric is struggling to cover your breasts in the process pulling the buttons more than a normal fitting shirt. he likes those days best because he can imagine that one wrong move or deep breath and your buttons will pop off and your breasts will spill out.
he listens in when you're having lunch with your other coworkers talking about another failed date, who was boring and failed to satisfy you. denki smirks at the idea that it was another failed date, how many people have failed to satisfy you recently. he imagines your cute face scrunched up in pleasure after your date leaves because you have to get yourself off because you're just so needy.
denki drops things in front of you in hopes that you'll bend over and pick them up, however not too frequently that you'll catch on. he gets overzealous sometimes though dropping too many things too many times, often that does give you pause but then you'll see him drop things around other people too or when no ones around and you get reminded about how clumsy he is and you think nothing of it again. denki is so glad that you're kind enough to pick up all the things he drops, because no matter what angle he's looking at you from it's like heaven. sometimes he gets to see your breasts hanging near his face and sometimes you wear clothes that show more cleavage he sees the tiniest glimpse of the top of your bra as you bend down.
when you bend down and he's behind you he can see a clear view of your ass and you're distracted picking up whatever denki dropped so he can look as obviously as he wants to without you noticing. although his looks are often times obvious already but you dismiss the idea every time you catch him looking because you think denki would ever do that. when you do bend over though he wants to pin you to the desk and fuck you against it. he has to restrain himself from reaching out to you and groping your ass and spanking you.
every single day denki is getting bolder with his casual touches, friendly remarks and beaming grin. as the days go by you're starting to think that he's teasing you and annoying you on purpose because he thinks it's funny when you're annoyed, you're getting suspicious you still often brush that thought away.
you don't suspect that he wants to fuck you though. he knows he'll reel you in eventually, it hasn't even been a full year yet of working together, he's got plenty of time to do it. he can tell you're not going to be quitting any time soon and he definitely isn't with you around. how much longer until you realise his true intentions? that is, if you do realise before denki's succeeded and has gotten what he's after, you.
#denki kaminari x reader smut#denki kaminari smut#bnha x chubby reader#denki kaminari x chubby reader#♡ mine / writing#♡ denki#denki kaminari suggestive#bnha x reader smut#chubby reader smut#chubby reader#denki smut#denki kaminari x chubby reader smut#bnha smut#bnha x reader suggestive#bnha x chubby reader smut#bnha x reader
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Hello! I wanted to ask about these drawings of Sophie and Nina! I recently took more notice to what kind of dresses they were wearing and wanted to know more ! The lingerie dresses Nina and Sophie are wearing seem more fancy (is that the right word? More like very detailed). I believe those type of dresses were worn during the spring and summer by various economic classes. The amount of detail and the type of fabrics seem to be used kind of makes it look more expensive. So I wanted to ask if those dresses were saved for portraits and more formal events, or did they have others like this? My knowledge of the Edwardian fashion era is very scarce, so I wanted to ask. And finding information about the type of dress Sophie was wearing in her standalone portrait was a bit hard to find lol. To sum up more of the question, were the two more in the middle or upper class when they were younger?
Another question, did these take place before Sophie and Nina came to America? I was wondering since the picture of the two took place in 1902, while we know Rocky was born in 1904; so the timeline would be pretty quick from when they went to America to Sophie and Rocky's dad have met and so on.
Sorry for these long winded questions! Thank you for your time!
Nina and Sophie immigrated with their family when they were teenagers, before the turn of the century. They were working class.
Lingerie dresses were a sort of outdoor summer look of the Edwardian period. They weren't strictly relegated to the upper classes - how fancy they were fell on a spectrum. And, in fact, a lot of middle class and working class women gathered their own material and made their own dresses. The dresses in the "photo" here are more of the fancy, probably-not-homegrown sort, but they didn't belong to Nina and Sophie. They were borrowed (for the photo) from a family they both worked for as housekeepers.
Something like a shirtwaist (a sort of blouse) and skirt would have been their more normal attire. Though by modern standards even a lot of relatively workaday Edwardian clothes look pretty fancy without context.
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how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee
tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader
"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket.
Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god."
"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself."
"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you.
You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal.
Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour.
Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's.
What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse.
Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile.
"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.
Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents."
"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers."
"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card."
You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille.
Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking."
From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.
No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing.
Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious.
Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.
"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically.
That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour.
"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that."
You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start."
Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"
The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."
"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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your personal and professional was soooooo good hear me out
pt 2 the date. reader takes their time and truly goes all out alt baddie for their date as per mel’s request. melissa realizes those weren’t the only piercings and tattoos reader was camouflaging. a top that accentuates her nipple piercing and a slitted skirt that shows leg tattoos for days mel doesn’t know how many more surprises she can take
ask and you shall receive. written half drunk, on the phone with my boyfriend, and inhaling a pad thai. not edited in the slightest and hoping it's good enough :)
Personal and Professional pt 2
Part 1
WC: ~1.75k
Melissa just had you pinned up against your desk, her mouth roughly on your own. It takes you a few minutes to even be able to function again, brain now all over the place as you try to process what just happened.
She told you to meet her at The Capital Grille at six… That’s a couple hours from now. And she doesn’t want you to wear the outfit you’re in now: your clean yellow blouse and sweater, your dress pants and flats. So you shake your head and practically sprint out to your car. If she wants the alt girl that you are, she’ll get it.
You spend the entire drive home planning what you’ll wear on this date. You know that The Capital Grille is a relatively fancy place to go out to eat, so you can’t roll up in the usual band t-shirt or tank top and your jeans.
But you know that have quite a few skirts that you wouldn’t wear to school, and you have more than enough tops to impress the woman.
When you get home, you immediately change out your clear stud for your nose ring, and your small hoops are exchanged for your bigger, black hoops and put in your ear spike. Your blouse is switched out for a rather revealing, black top that accentuates the piercings on your chest. You swap out your slacks for the shortest black skirt that you own that has a nice slit up the side to show off the tattoos that make their way up your thighs and hips. The ballet flats that you chose to wear to school are off, and you instead lace up your heeled boots.
You glance in the mirror, and while you would usually change your eye makeup for something a bit more… daring, you decide to just touch up the light and minimal makeup that you had on for today. There should be at least some small aspect of you that the redhead can recognize. And besides, you think your makeup looks good today. So, you head for the bathroom and start heating up your curling iron. An hour later, your hair is curled into big bombshell curls, and you make sure the few front pieces frame your face.
You still have a bit of time before you have to meet her, so you head back into the living room, pull out some of your work, and grade some papers until it’s finally an appropriate time to start heading out to the restaurant.
You park your car, and text Melissa that you’re on your way.
I’m sitting in the back, she replies back. Do you want a drink?
Whatever you’re having, is your answer, and you continue walking towards the restaurant.
When you walk in though, she’s waiting by the door to escort you over to your table.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” you say suavely.
The redhead doesn’t answer right away. She’s too busy practically drooling over your appearance.
“Mel,” you chuckle.
She blinks a few times before she’s able to take her eyes away from your chest and the rest of your outfit. “Wow.”
“Like what you see?” you give her a little twirl.
“More than I think you realize.”
You roll your eyes playfully before looping your arm through hers. “You look beautiful.”
“You look… holy shit,” she whispers as she pulls you in close and kisses you with more passion than she had in the classroom.
You kiss her back, but you do pull away. Your cheeks are red and hot. Despite appearances, you still are the woman that you are at school, and you can’t help but feel quite flustered with the public display of affection.
She takes you into the back of the restaurant, where your table is. There’s a small bouquet of flowers waiting for you, along with two glasses of wine.
She pulls out your seat, and you gently kiss her cheek as she helps you situate yourself before she takes a seat across the table from you.
You smile softly as she practically drinks in the sight of you. Feeling just a bit flustered, you reach for the glass that she has waiting for you and wait for her to grab her own. The two of you silently toast to each other before you take a rather large gulp of wine.
“This place,” you say softly. “It’s… really nice.”
“I know I flirt with you rather crassly at school,” Melissa chuckles. “But you deserve the best, hun.”
You feel your cheeks heat up even more, and you can’t help the warm feeling that settles in your chest. “Thank you.”
You glance down at the table for a menu, but there isn’t one.
“Food is already on its way,” your coworker tells you. “I know what you like.”
She’s right. She had ordered you a nice filet minion, and she had ordered the same for herself. This food is to die for.
Conversation flows between the two of you easily, but you’ve noticed that the redhead has a hard time focusing on your eyes the way that she usually can at school.
“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask.
Her eyes flit from your chest to your eyes, cheeks flushed. Whether that’s from the wine or from her being caught staring at your tasteful piercings, you don’t know.
“I know I told you to come dressed as your little alt girl self, but…” she hums. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting… those piercings, or the flowery vines that travel up your legs.”
“You saw those?”
“Of course I did,”she whispers. “You look absolutely… stunning.”
You feel the way that her boot finds its way to your leg, and she runs it up your calf. You feel a shiver run up to your spine. But before you can really react, it’s gone, and she’s acting like nothing had ever happened.
The two of you are back to talking about your days and the things that your students had gotten up to today.
Before you know it, dessert is being brought out, along with two glasses of champagne. She moves from the seat across from you, and the teacher makes her way around the table and to your side. She takes up the seat next to you, daringly running a hand up your thigh. You can’t quite help the way that your body reacts. You nearly purr.
“You like that?” she whispers.
You nod, words caught in your throat. You don’t think you can answer without letting out a soft moan.
“No time for that now,” she says huskily. She dips the spoon into the tiramisu that had been brought to your table before bringing it up to your lips.
Deciding two can play at that game, you take the spoonful of dessert before letting out a moan. You lick the spoon clean as seductively as you can.
Melissa’s eyes go wide before she spoons another bite and taking it herself. The two of you finish off the dish in front of you, her hand on your thigh the entire time. She’s rubbing gentle circles on your skin with the pad of your thumb before tracing the tattooed vines up your leg as high as your skirt will allow.
“You cold, hun?” Melissa whispers into your ear.
You swallow harshly before shaking your head. Daringly, you take her hand and move it to your hipbone. She doesn’t know it, but that’s where the vines end- they’re attached to a beautiful flower that is engraved into your hip.
Her eyes linger where her hand has been placed before looking into your eyes. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, one that conveys just how she feels for you: that this isn’t just some small fling but instead holds deep and passionate feelings for you. She gently squeezes your hip, and you whimper at that.
“Mel,” you mumble into her mouth.
She pulls away, and she can tell with the way that you’re looking at her that you feel the same as her. “Should we go to my place?”
You nod, and she grabs both of your bags before gesturing for you to stand.
“The bill,” you say softly, not moving from your place.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“We can’t just dine and dash… especially at a restaurant like this,” you whisper.
She waves you off. “My cousin Anthony owns this jawn. It’s fine.” She offers you a hand, and you take it gently.
As the two of you exit, she waves to a few of the people, expressing her thanks to them. They all give her small smiles, a few of them raise their eyebrows as they look you over, and the two of you walk out hand in hand.
“Where’s your car, babe?” she asks you.
“In the garage on Samson,” you tell her, and she walks you over.
“Anthony let me park by their loading docks,” she grins as she opens the door to your driver’s seat.
“Let me drive you back over then,” you offer.
“If you insist,” she chuckles as she makes her way around and settles next to you. Your hand rests gently on her thigh as you pull out of your spot and exit the garage, only to turn back onto the street that you had dinner on. Her car is waiting for her, and she gives you a quick kiss before heading to her car.
“Follow me over?” she asks. You nod and wait for her to start leading the way.
As you pull in behind her in her driveway, you glance at yourself in the rear view mirror. You make sure that your hair looks nice, you wipe away some of the makeup that is under your eyes, and you grin when you see her standing at your door waiting.
You open the door, and her arm is immediately out and waiting for you to take it. She leads you up the walkway before she unlocks her door.
You barely have a foot in the door before she has you pinned up against it.
“You have any other surprises in store for me?” she asks huskily as her mouth finds your neck.
You hum, entirely distracting with the things that she’s doing to you. “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”
Her eyes turn dark and full of lust, and as she’s leading you up to her bedroom, you silently thank God that she found you in that grocery store the other day.
#melissa schemmenti#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary
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Here is Jude's drunken story with ZERO GUARANTEES MADE - this will not be entirely accurate, both by design and by accident. Enjoy my shitbrained version of a summary 💕
Jude and Ellis are assigned a mission to investigate/deal with rumors that a certain bar is engaging in human trafficking - getting women drunk and then selling them. Kate, being our do-gooder, asks if she can help of course, and Jude suggests she can go undercover as an employee if she wants to help. Kate is like, I'm sorry whut?? But Jude just smirks and challenges her - she said she wanted to help, is she gonna back out of it?
Kate declares she'll do it and thus finds herself employed at the bar, albeit more than a little nervous about flying solo on this. A fancy-looking fellow walks in and looks around before taking a seat at the bar, and the manager calls to Kate.
She bustles over and the fancy man says it looks like she's working hard - how about he buys her a drink as a reward?
She's handed a glass and recalls how the MO here is to get girls drunk and then sell them, so she hesitates. Sleazy Fancy Man says if she can't drink it he'll ‘help’ her, and she's spluttering for him to please stop as he begins forcing the glass to her mouth. The moment it touches her lips though she hears -
“The hell ya doin’?”
Shocked, Kate watches as Jude suddenly appears, grabs the glass, and downs the whole thing himself. Equally as shocked is Fancy Man, who immediately tries to scramble away before promptly being sent sprawling, tripping over Jude's foot. A smirking Jude says he seems to be pretty scared - what's he trying to hide? Oh right, can't just come out and say you're trying to buy a girl can you?
Ellis takes down the manager as he's trying to haul ass out of the bar too, and with a sadistic grin Jude kicks the dude in the side of the face and gleefully suggests they spill their guts.
After they've confessed and the bar has been shut down, Jude has Ellis take the two men away. He and Kate are walking back home, but she notices he's been uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he'd have been busy bitching her out by now, but tonight it's just crickets. And the moment she opens her mouth to say something, reaching out to him, his whole body sorta lurches.
Kate’s all JUDE! and she steadies him, noticing his breath is hella hot on her cheek as she does. She's like, holy crap are you sick??!
Jude calls her an idiot for even suggesting that, but he's standing there in kind of a daze, face red as he tells her - “There was something in the drink.”
Kate commences freaking out harder, all OMG WHUT ARE YOU OKAYYYY and earns Jude griping at her to quit her noisy-ass shouting. She tells him they gotta get him to Roger ASAP, and giving him her shoulder she hauls ass back to the mansion and Roger's basement.
Surprised to see them, Roger asks if Jude got hurt but Kate hurriedly explains the situation and Roger gives him an exam. He says there's nothing major going on, just that the drink had something in it that amplifies alcohol - makes you drunker faster. Nothing to worry about.
Kate's hella relieved, and Roger summarily boots them outta his lab, saying he doesn't have time to babysit drunk people AKA Jude is her problem now.
Since her room is closest, Kate drags Jude there. She's about to go grab him some water when he calls out an ‘Oi’
- and when she turns to ask what's up she suddenly finds herself flat on her back on the bed, Jude straddling her. He's like…JFC woman you seriously have zero concept of danger don't you?
His large hand caresses her stomach and works her blouse up, and Kate gasps out - what are you doing??? As she's sorta flailing, Jude grabs her and easily pins both wrists above her head with his other hand.
“...Why were you gonna drink it?” He asks, deapan. Kate sputters that she WASN'T going to, which only makes Jude scowl. “You had your mouth on it.”
“Why did you drink it?” Kate fires back.
His answer is to put his free hand back on her stomach, and Kate can't help the involuntary little squirm she makes at the feel of his warm fingers. Jude smirks and calls her dirty for getting all excited, which Kate vehemently denies…all the whole totally aware of how her embarrassment shows in her eyes.
Jude gets his patented sadistic look on his face as he asks if dat pussy she wants to be well and truly pounded...and when he lowers his mouth to lick her stomach, she can't stifle her cry.
Then, serious expression back, Jude tells her this'll be a good learning opportunity for such a hella perv - just before he bites down on her stomach, hard.
The sudden sensation has her whole body seizing up, her sight wavering, unable to tell what is pain and what is pleasure. Both all jumbled up.
“You really…” Jude starts to say something, but before he can finish, his whole body gives out and he flops down atop her. Kate panics, then realizes as he winds up holding her that he's passed the fuck out, peaceful expression and all. The complete mood change from moments earlier has her totally drained, unable to do much more than watch him sleep. Wrapped in his arms and the scent of tobacco and sandalwood she closes her own eyes too.
The next morning she wakes up, all uncomfortable, and realizes she's got a Jude blanket - his arms still around her and remembers he passed out like that, holding her. As she starts struggling to get free of his embrace, Jude wakes up and asks wtf she's doing.
FULL ON AWKWARD she's got Jude eye contact up close and personal as she manages a ‘good morning’ which he promptly scoffs at. And she tries not to think too hard about how sad she feels when he lets go of her…but as she watches him pour a glass of water something comes back to her.
“Why did you drink that drink yesterday?” She presses again.
Jude’s all, ehhhhh? Before brushing it off as the fact that if he'd dumped it out there'd have been no evidence so he'd taken it himself instead as proof basically. And he offers to get her some of the stuff if she wants it so badly and pour it down her throat.
Kate (who by now we're all aware can totally see through him) thinks how she KNOWS he most likely just did it to protect her.
Jude puts his coat back on and scowls. “You brought me all the way back here, and had that quack take a look at me…so we'll call things even between us.”
He stalks out of the room with that, leaving behind a stunned Kate. Sitting up tho she winces, and looks down to find a raw bite mark on her stomach. She traces it with her fingers, heat running through her as she does, then smashes her face into the pillow in a state of WHAT THE FUCK, ME?? mortified. Convinced she's not gonna even begin to forget about last night until those marks fade away.
#ikemen villains#ikevil#ikevil jude#spoiler#spoilers#ikemen villains spoilers#ikevil spoilers#help i love them so much#that hint of bickering too#I AM FED
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just thinking of artist!eddie x muse!reader meet cute. cw reader dresses femme in this
“um… excuse me? pardon me. you can’t be touching that.”
Eddie spins to see someone walking across the room towards him (a very hot someone. in clicky heels and a tight black skirt that shows off a gorgeous slip of thigh.)
holding a clipboard against one waist, you point at him with your work-supplied ballpoint pen, sounding lightly flustered but firm all the same- “sorry, it’s just- you can’t touch the art. I know there’s no red rope around here, but not touching the artwork at a gallery, that’s kinda… just courtesy.”
Eddie takes his hand from the now-straightened framed photograph, then spreads his hands in a placating gesture, sheepish and charming smile fixed on you. “sorry-“ his eyes flick down to your name badge, and he says your name in that husky voice, “-must’ve gotten mixed up, thought this was the petting zoo area.”
You snort, intending to let him off the hook with just a warning. then you tap your pen against your clipboard, trying to maintain a professional composure without drooling.
flicking up and down his frame, you take in the tight black ripped jeans, black vine tattoos curling out from a cut-off tank, over the milky expanse of his broad shoulders, alongside the veins running up and down his forearms. smattered with hair.
Eddie’s looking at you the same way. like he’s hungry. the attention calls to you, makes your spine perk up, a little flare of excitement kicking at your heart rate.
you take the bait. turn to the wall of art, point at one of the other frames just to fill the charged silence. “so! um. do you like this body of work? I think it’s the best in the series so far.”
Eddie crosses his arms, gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher- amusement? suspicion? hard to say. you’re tracing the ridge of his ear with your gaze, sunlight streaming through the main entrance windows glinting off the multitude of rings nestled there.
under your attention, Eddie’s preening, and also hoping you keep talking to him as long as possible so he can memorize the way your tits look in that blouse and paint ‘em from memory (😵💫) “fancy yourself an art critic? go on, sweetheart- I’d love to hear your take.”
and those doey eyes almost drive you to distraction !!! but you give a very genuine review of Eddie’s newest work (having no idea you’re flattering the artist in person), and he’s smiling by the end of your impassioned response.
“wow. sounds like you really like this artist.”
“I really do!”
“…and if this artist asked you for your number, you’d say yes, right? ‘cuz you like him so much?”
and he’s got that same sweet and silly smile from earlier, eyebrows raised. and when you realize, you’re mortified. bringing up the clipboard in front of your face to hide like “oh my god. you’re Eddie Munson. the artist. and I yelled at you for touching your own art!! why did you let me do that!!”
he laughs, hand over his heart, earnest- “no, don’t apologize! it was a huge ego boost for me, didn’t know they’d have such a beautiful personal bodyguard for my stuff. you gotta let me take you out for a drink as thanks for your service.”
and he does this dorky off balance bow low to the ground and you’re looking over the top of your board giggling. his humor is just your type and you fall for each other before round two of drinks after your shift that night (and fall into each others BEDS. ayooooo.)
#idk what this is#too high to function 😇#Eddie Munson#eddie munson x reader#artist!eddie munson#artist!eddie#Eddie Munson x you#tw weed
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