#graff head

[brawlligator]

❝ Ooooh, you would make a fine handbag . . . ❞

 

❝ Handbag??? ❞ Brok suddenly tensed up, balling his fists at his sides. ❝ Why you little— ❞

Brok approached the nearly hairless mammal with the intention of intimidating him away before things would have to get ugly.

Sadly, assault when the other person egged you on is still assault. So instead he stops himself halfway out of good conscience. In any case, Kirrily wasn't omniscient, and though Brok was (regrettably) bluffing Kirrily had no way of knowing that. Brok growled, baring his teeth.

[porterdavis]

I'm going to post the entire dispatch in hopes more people will read it. It's a stylized version of how US media would cover events in America if they were happening in a foreign country. Chilling.

(Written by Garrett Graff)

-----

Musk Junta Seizes Key Governmental Offices February 1, 2025 By William Boot

WASHINGTON, D.C. — What started Thursday as a political purge of the internal security services accelerated Friday into a full-blown coup, as elite technical units aligned with media oligarch Elon Musk moved to seize key systems at the national treasury, block outside access to federal personnel records, and take offline governmental communication networks.

With rapidity that has stunned even longtime political observers, forces loyal to Musk’s junta have established him as the all-but undisputed unelected head of government in just a matter of days, unwinding the longtime democracy’s constitutional system and its proud nearly 250-year-old tradition of the rule of law. Having secured themselves in key ministries and in a building adjacent to the presidential office complex, Musk’s forces have begun issuing directives to civil service workers and forcing the resignation of officials deemed insufficiently loyal, like the head of the country’s aviation authority.

Subscribe

The G-7 country’s newly installed president, a mid-level oligarch named Donald Trump, appeared amid Musk’s moves to be increasingly merely a figurehead head of state. Trump is a convicted felon with a long record of family corruption and returned in power in late January after a four-year interlude promising retribution and retaliation against foreign opponents and a domestic “Deep State.” He had been charged with attempting to overthrow the peaceful transition of power that had previously removed him from office in 2021, but loyalist elements in the judiciary successfully blocked his prosecution and incarceration, easing his return to power.

Over the last two weeks, loyalist presidential factions and Musk-backed teams have launched sweeping, illegal Stalin-esque purges of the national police forces and prosecutors, as well as offices known as inspectors-general, who are typically responsible for investigating government corruption. While official numbers of the unprecedented ousters were kept secret, rumors swirled in the capital that the scores of career officials affected by the initial purges could rise into the thousands as political commissars continued to assess the backgrounds of members of the police forces. 

The mentally declining and aging head of state, who has long embraced conspiracist thinking, spent much of the week railing in bizarre public remarks against the country’s oppressed racial and ethnic minorities, whom he blamed without evidence for causing a deadly plane crash across the river from the presidential mansion. Unfounded racist attacks on those minorities have been a key foundation of Trump’s unpredicted rise to political power from a career as a real estate magnate and reality TV host and date back to his first announcement that he would seek the presidency in 2015, when he railed against “rapists” being sent into the country from its southern neighbor.

In one of his first moves upon returning to the presidency, he mobilized far-right paramilitary security forces to begin raids at churches, schools, and workplaces to identify and remove racial minorities, including those who had long lived in harmony with the country’s white Christian majority. He also immediately moved to release from prison some 1,500 supporters who had participated in his unsuccessful 2021 insurrection, including members of violent far-right militias who promptly upon release swore fealty to him in any future civil unrest. Elsewhere, even as he released violent criminals onto the streets, Trump by fiat pulled longstanding government security protection from former military and health officials he felt had betrayed him.

Underscoring his apparent disconnection from reality, reports surfaced that the president had ordered military forces to unleash an environmental catastrophe and flood regions of a separatist province known as California that is led by a high-profile political opponent. The order underscored how the military, which had resisted Trump’s unconstitutional power grabs in his first administration, was now led by a subservient defense minister, a favored TV personality with no experience in management who faced an embarrassing series of allegations about his drunken behavior in the workplace.

Foreign allies who had long aligned themselves with the United States on the international stage were unsettled by increasingly destabilizing nationalistic and imperialist rhetoric coming from the president’s social media accounts—largely posted to a network owned and run by Trump himself—and worried in private conversations in capital embassies that he would mobilize the compliant military to fulfill heretofore unimaginable territorial ambitions that included seizing the country’s northern neighbor, which shares the world’s longest undefended border, and potentially colonizing Panama and Greenland.

Both the country’s defense minister, who has previously said he does not believe women should be allowed to serve in combat roles, and Trump’s new interior minister, who appeared on national TV wearing the paramilitary uniform of the border security force central to Trump’s political rise, spent much of their first days echoing and amplifying the president’s hysteria about racial and ethnic minorities. They and other government officials also immediately canceled all official observances of religious and ethnic minority holidays and launched efforts to scrub official websites and prohibit educating workers or schoolchildren about those minorities’ long, proud history in the country. Overnight Friday, hours after journalists had gone home, the defense minister’s office announced it would bar establishment independent media outlets from working out of the country’s military headquarters and replace them with friendly right-wing media organs.

Share the newsletter

The administration’s propaganda minister also announced Friday, apparently with little preparation, that it would initiate an immediate, unexpected, and seemingly ill-considered trade war with the country’s two primary economic partners, a move that if implemented would upend the national economy, disrupt supply chains, and accelerate the return of an inflationary crisis that has roiled domestic politics over the last five years and had just seemed to be returning to normal. Ironically, it was that very inflationary crisis and Trump’s promises on the campaign trail to lower the price of eggs that paved the way for his unforeseen election victory in November.

The country’s other business oligarchs have watched Musk’s unexpected and rapid rise to power with trepidation, and leading media and technology companies who compete with Musk’s extensive business empire—like Meta, Amazon, Disney, Paramount, Apple, and OpenAI—have quickly lined up to negotiate and pay bribes to the president that would allow their companies to operate unimpeded; initial payment terms ranged from million-dollar gifts to the presidential inauguration to $15 million and $25 million payments, made by Disney and Meta, to fund the construction of a presidential shrine. The highest known payment was $40 million from Amazon, which was structured as a gift to the president’s wife in exchange for the media company having the opportunity to film a hagiographic biopic.

It was unclear, exactly, what deal terms any of those bribes and payments unlocked and when subsequent tribute payments would be expected, although on Saturday Trump moved to fire and neuter government watchdogs that had long bedeviled the country’s financial elite.

Throughout the week’s fast-moving seizure of power—one that seems increasingly irreversible by the hour—neither loyalist nor opposition parliamentary leaders raised meaningful objection to the new regime or the unraveling of the country’s constitutional system of checks and balances. A few members of the geriatric legislature body offered scattered social media posts condemning the move, but parliament — where both houses are controlled by so-called “MAGA” members handpicked for their loyalty to the president — went home early for the weekend even as Musk’s forces spread through the capital streets.

It was unclear what role, if any, Musk’s forces would allow parliament to have in the new governmental structure by the time it next returned to the national assembly known as Capitol Hill.

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Put a rock on her hand

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluff, so cute, men being in love, i do have pics of the rings at the end if you need more help visualising, they’re in the top to bottom order.

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your picking your wedding ring

Part 1 of the wedding series! Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You weren’t supposed to be tired of ring shopping.

The boutique was glossy, the lighting perfect, and the cases sparkled like the stars above his seaside estate. You’d been to three different shops in Linkon over the past few weeks, each more prestigious than the last, escorted by Thomas-approved stylists and fussing assistants. But every time, the result was the same:

You’d try on ring after ring.

And smile politely.

And take it off.

“Too sharp.”

“Too stiff.”

“Too princess-y.”

“Too much like hers.” (You didn’t know who her was. Just… not you.)

You were lounging now on the plush bench near the front of the showroom, one leg tucked under the other, turning a glass of citrus water in your hand as Rafayel leaned over the final case. He hadn’t said much, just watched you quietly with those shifting blue-pink eyes, head tilted, hands in his pockets.

The saleswoman offered another tray.

You gave her a tired smile. “They’re all beautiful, but…”

He walked over, slid into the seat beside you, and nudged your knee with his. “You hate all of them.”

You blinked. “I don’t hate them.”

“I know,” he said, soft. “But you don’t love them either.”

Silence for a moment.

And then, he reached for your hand, his fingers surprisingly gentle despite the faint paint stains on his knuckles. “We’re only getting married once,” he said, lips quirked into that lopsided, teasing smile. “I’m not giving you a ring that looks like it came from some catalog.”

You raised a brow. “Okay, so what are you suggesting? You make me one out of seashells and regret?”

He laughed, threw his head back, even. “Tempting. But no.”

The Surprise (One Week Later)

You found the first box in the studio, beside a cup of forgotten tea and a sketch of your hand that made your heart catch. A note was taped to the velvet lid, written in his scrawled, looping hand:

“I told you I’d fix it. You’re not allowed to cry. I mean it. -Raffy.”

Inside was the wedding ring, the blue and white pear diamonds, set like twin constellations held together by gravity. Twisting platinum paved in tiny diamonds, like waves mid-movement. The blue was the exact shade of his eyes when the light hit them right.

And then he appeared in the doorway, barefoot and smug, with a second box in hand.

“These are our wedding bands. Matching,” he added proudly.

The wedding bands, vines of gold (purely cause you couldn’t decide between silver or gold) curling around diamonds and soft little pearls. A crown of nature. Dreamlike. Delicate. Like something you’d find half-buried in sand at dawn.

“They’re enchanted,” he said dramatically, flopping onto the studio couch. “Or at least they will be, once you wear yours. Mine already is. Yours will be once you say yes.”

You looked up at him.

“Raffy… you remembered everything I said.”

“‘Course I did.” He smiled, pink dusting his ears. “You’re the only thing I actually listen to.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You hadn’t planned to fall in love that day.

You’d just wanted to browse, maybe try a few on, maybe sip champagne in a showroom built like a palace. The kind of daydream outing you could only indulge in with him.

Zayne had cleared his schedule for it. “If we’re choosing something you’ll wear for the rest of your life,” he’d said coolly, “I’m not leaving it to chance. Or online catalogs.”

And so, you found yourselves at Graff, where the air smelled like elegance and exclusivity. Where every diamond seemed to float behind glass, watched over by well-dressed attendants who instantly recognized Zayne, the surgeon with hands worth more than their showroom inventory.

They brought out trays.

You tried them on. Some sparkled. Some flattered.

But nothing clicked.

Until that one.

A velvet box. A slow open. A statement.

The oval-cut diamond, flanked by two brilliant side stones, bold, breathtaking, flawless. It didn’t just sit pretty. It owned the room. It said: Yes, I’m his. And yes, he spoils me.

You gasped softly. “This is… wow.”

Zayne didn’t speak. He just took it from the box himself, like it was already his responsibility, and slid it onto your ring finger. It fit perfectly.

You looked up. “Zayne?”

His eyes were on your hand. Focused. Controlled. Then:

“This one. We’re not leaving without it.”

Later, They Brought Out the Bands

Simple. Refined. Two intertwined eternity bands glimmering with tiny precision-cut diamonds, matching, for you and him.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over the set. “You sure about matching bands, Doctor?”

He gave you that low, unreadable look, the one he used on anxious interns and rival surgeons alike. “You’re mine. Everyone should know.”

You tilted your head. “Even while you’re elbow-deep in someone’s chest cavity?”

He reached for your hand again, kissed it softly—right over the glittering diamond. “Especially then.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You hadn’t meant to be picky. But everything the boutique assistant offered, platinum, diamonds, brilliant-cut solitaires, just didn’t feel right. You only liked the simple wedding bands: soft yellow gold etched with small stars and constellations, one with delicate sunflowers and a few tiny emeralds embedded in their hearts. You slipped it on and smiled quietly, almost bashfully.

Xavier noticed. Of course he did.

He didn’t say much, just tilted his head and watched you with that gentle, unreadable expression. The next week, he woke you by placing something cold and smooth into your palm.

A ring, glowing warm in the morning light.

Gold, like the bands you loved. Etched in soft curves like celestial flow, like two orbits captured in time. One gem shimmered with golden light, like a sun; the other, deep green, glinting like an emerald star. They curved in tandem, mirroring the galaxies he always said reminded him of your eyes when you spoke of the stars.

“I wanted it to echo the universe,” he said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “The way it bends around you. The way I do.”

You were too stunned to speak at first, fingers trembling as he took the ring and slid it onto your finger with reverence. It fit perfectly against the wedding band you’d chosen, like they were made to nest together. Like you were made for him.

You looked up, teary-eyed. He only smiled faintly and kissed your knuckles.

“Now you’ll wear the stars for me,” he whispered, “and I’ll never lose my way home.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It started with a whim. You were draped in pearls and satin, leaning over the velvet-lined case of an exclusive private jeweler’s suite, your hand already pointed.

“That one.”

The Williamson Pink Star. $57.7 million. The rarest, boldest pink diamond on Earth. Sylus had barely glanced at the price tag.

“You’re serious?” he asked, not disapproving. Just intrigued.

You smiled sweetly. “It looks good on me.”

And it did. The moment they placed it on your finger, even the jeweler’s breath caught. The pink diamond blazed like power incarnate, like royalty. Sylus said nothing for a long moment, only watching as you admired your reflection with it. Then, calmly, he turned to the jeweler:

“She wants it. Wrap it.”

That night, you laid curled in his lap like the most spoiled little housewife in the galaxy, and offhandedly added, “Also, I want us to have matching wedding bands. Pink ones.”

A low, amused breath. “You want me to wear pink?”

You tilted your head and gave him that soft, lethal smile he loved so much. “You’re going to be married to me. Any good man would wear a pink band for his wife.”

He chuckled. “I’ll wear it proudly.”

He didn’t just get pink. He had matching custom bands made in warm rose gold, set with rare pink baguette diamonds and fine white stones, elegant, deliberate, and unmistakably expensive. The moment he slid it on your finger, he kissed your knuckles and said lowly, “Let them look. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

And when you slipped his on? He wore it like a badge of conquest.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You’d barely said a word about weddings.

Not because you weren’t thinking about it, just because you and caleb were always going to get married.

One evening, while you were curled up in his lap, bare-legged in one of his shirts, he asked, voice casual, but eyes sharp.

“If you had to pick a ring… what would you want?”

You blinked at him. “Why?”

He smiled faintly, brushing his knuckles down your cheek.

“Just curious.”

And you told him.

You said you liked organic shapes, nothing stiff or traditional. You loved the way vines moved, how stars twinkled around a central light. You said yellow gold looked warm against your skin, like sunlight. You rambled about how pear-cut diamonds looked like dewdrops, and how you liked rings that looked alive, not cold.

He asked nothing else. Just nodded once.

“Got it.”

Then kissed the side of your neck like it was the end of the conversation.

Two months later, he took you to a quiet room in the Skyhaven penthouse. No one else around. No cameras, no staff. Just him, and a velvet box.

You opened it and gasped.

It was exactly what you described. No, more. A breathtaking, asymmetrical engagement ring wrapped in 18K hand-textured gold, holding a flawless 5-carat lab-grown marquise diamond, surrounded by smaller stones like blooming stars. Delicate golden vines traced the sides, curling protectively around the center. Every part of it felt like you.

And beside it, two matching wedding bands. Hand-engraved with stars and feathers, one for you, thinner and delicate, the other wider, masculine, but still intricately carved. His and yours, forged from the same gold.

You looked up at him, speechless.

He was already sliding the ring onto your finger.

“I’m not letting anyone else do it,” he murmured. “Not a stranger. Not a jeweler. Not some designer who doesn’t know you. Only I get to put this on you.”

Your hand trembled as he kissed your palm.

“Do you like it?”

You could only nod.

His gaze softened for just a moment before he added, quiet but unwavering:

“Good. Because it’s staying on. Forever.”

———————————————————————————

[yansolivan]

The Girl in Red — Sylus x Reader/MC

summary : In the shadows of Linkon City, Sylus rules empires. Cold, untouchable — except by you. His fiancée: wild, stunning, and impossible to outmanoeuvre. When a girl in red crosses a line, it isn’t Sylus who handles it. It’s you. Quiet vengeance. No chaos. Just removal. Because in this city, red means danger — and you are the one who defines it.

setting : alternate universe - canon divergence

contents : no use of y/n, possessive behaviour, jealous mc, kinda toxic mc, but sylus loves it, manipulation, blackmailing, toxic x toxic, sylus kisses the ground mc steps on, girlboss mc.

2,2k words - one shot

Sylus was cold, unreadable, feared in the N109 Zone, but also in Linkon City. He ruled boardrooms and backrooms alike, having earned his title of the leader of Onychinus.

And you? His fiancée. Too wild to tame, too stunning to ignore. Only Sylus could handle your fire — barely.

One afternoon he lounged in his house, vodka in hand, eyes on nothing. Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Mr. Sylus, we’re calling to confirm nearly $13.8 million in transactions: Graff, Dior, Chanel, Hermès, Cartier, and a painting from Sotheby’s.”

He exhaled softly, amused. “Just my jealous fiancée.”

He knew you saw the woman in red during last night’s transaction — her hand on his shoulder, her laugh too sweet. You didn’t cause a scene on the moment. You went shopping.

“You’re not concerned, sir?”

“Concerned?” he echoed. “No. Let her burn the rest if she wants.”

He hung up, unbothered.

Minutes later, you walked in, flawless, quiet. Staff followed with boxes — gowns, diamonds, art. Not bought out of need, but out of fury masked in elegance. You thanked them as the men exited the room, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Sylus glanced up. Smirked even, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Done already?”

You tilted your head, unsmiling. The heels you wore echoed like gunshots on the marble floor as you stepped closer, your presence demanding. A force — not loud, but absolute.

“Didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you replied, voice silken, dangerous.

Sylus chuckled low, setting the glass down on the table beside him. “How considerate.”

You tossed your purse onto the sofa, then peeled off your gloves one finger at a time, as if each movement were a message. I saw. I know. I’m choosing how this plays out.

“I ran into the twins on my way in,” you said, eyes scanning the untouched drink he poured himself. “They told me you canceled your trip last minute. Why?”

Sylus leaned back, lazy and leonine. “The deal changed. So did my priorities.”

You stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until you stood between his legs, arms crossed on your chest. “And what are your priorities now?”

His gaze met yours — sharp, calculating, a fire hidden behind frost. He trailed his fingers up your thigh, stopping at the hem of your dress. “You. Always have been.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Then I suggest you start acting like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this about the girl in red?”

“No,” you replied, reaching into your bag. From it, you pulled a folded document — thick, expensive paper. You dropped it in his lap. “It’s about respect.”

Sylus didn’t look at it right away. He stared at you, trying to read the storm behind your calm.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I don’t threaten,” you said coolly. “I remind.”

A pause stretched between you. Finally, he opened the paper — a deed transfer. One of his prized properties, now in your name.

“How?” he asked, intrigued. It didn’t bother him, at all . It only made him love you even more.

You turned away, walking toward the window. “Don’t forget who taught me the game, Sylus.”

He laughed — genuine, deep. “That’s why I chose you.”

You turned back, the city lights behind you, casting you in gold. “You didn’t choose me. You earned me. Keep earning me, or lose more than just your money.”

His smirk faded just a little. Not fear. But something close to respect.

Then he stood. Walked to you. Pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Marry me tomorrow.”

You didn’t flinch. “Not until you make the girl in red disappear.”

He nodded once. “Done.”

Sylus’ promise hung in the air like cigar smoke—rich, lingering, impossible to ignore.

Done he’d said. So easily. But nothing was ever that simple with him.

You didn’t smile. Not yet. You studied his face — sharp, angular, devastatingly calm. He wasn’t just cold-blooded; he chose to be. That was the difference between Sylus and every other power-hungry bastard in Linkon City. The others pretended. Sylus was .

“You say that,” you murmured, walking past him toward the bar. “But how many girls in red have there been, Sylus?”

You poured yourself a drink, not asking — never asking. You weren’t the type to seek permission, not in life, not in love, and especially not in war disguised as romance.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he watched you, eyes tracking your every move like a panther stalking prey he already owned but still enjoyed hunting.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he said finally, his voice low, even.

“No,” you agreed, swirling the drink. “You just manipulate the truth until it forgets what it used to be.”

A silence stretched between you, not awkward, just filled with things that neither of you wanted to say first.

The city below was alive. The N109 Zone was always pulsing, electric. But in this building, the world narrowed to just two souls: yours and Sylus’. Twin flames wrapped in ice and gold, circling each other like wolves around a fire.

He stepped closer, closing the distance until your back was nearly against the bar.

“Why didn’t you confront me last night?”

You sipped your drink before replying. “Because she wasn’t worth my voice. But I wanted you to know I saw. And I wanted you to feel it.”

His hand grazed your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in a touch so intimate it definitely belonged to a lover, reminding you just how he chose you even when he could have thousands of ‘girls in red’.

“I felt it,” he admitted. “Every time the notifications hit. Every million. Every brand. You made sure I did.”

You shrugged lightly. “Then I achieved my goal.”

He smiled — slow, dark, the kind that made men confess and women ruin themselves.

“I missed this side of you,” he said. “The sharp edge. You’ve been too quiet lately.”

“Maybe I was waiting to see if you’d remember who I am without me having to remind you.”

He studied you, then leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I remember. Every damn second.”

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. You let him speak, let him linger, and then stepped out of his reach with elegance.

“Then act like it. Because next time, I don’t shop. I dismantle.”

The air pulsed.

He poured himself another vodka, the bottle sweating on the counter. His voice was cool when he asked, “What do you want?”

“I want the girl gone. I want your loyalty — not the kind you parade at charity galas or press conferences, but the kind that bleeds. The kind that kneels.”

“You want me on my knees?”

You turned to face him fully. “Only if you plan on staying there.”

A flash in his eyes — half-lust, half-worship. You’d always made him feel like the world wasn’t big enough to contain the both of you. And he loved it.

“I can give you everything,” he said.

“I don’t want everything,” you said. “I want what matters.”

He nodded. “Then you’ll have it. But you need to meet me halfway.”

You arched a brow. “Define halfway.”

His eyes darkened. “A seat at the table. Not just my table — our table. Onychinus has room for one queen.”

You froze — not out of shock, but calculation.

You’d always been the shadow beside his throne. Whispers of you spread through the N109 Zone — how you controlled him with a look, how you had your own networks, your own loyalists in his ranks. But this? This was different.

“You want me in Onychinus?”

“I want you beside me in Onychinus.”

You were silent for a beat. Then: “I want access to the vault. Full authority over intel. And I pick my own operatives.”

“Done.”

“And,” you said, stepping forward again, voice dropping into something velvet and lethal, “I want your men to know. I’m not the woman behind the man. I’m the storm he walks with.”

He tilted his head, admiring you like art — expensive, terrifying, divine.

“They’ll know.”

You clinked your glass against his. “Then let’s begin.”

They called her Cira.

Glossy, young, ambitious. She wore the red dress like a challenge — a direct provocation. She didn’t just flirt with danger, she believed she could tame it. That was her first mistake.

She never knew she’d been marked from the moment her fingers grazed Sylus’s shoulder at the Black Vellum auction.

She mistook your silence for weakness. Your lack of reaction for permission.

But in your world, silence was a blade. And permission? You didn’t ask for it. You either owned it or you buried those who didn’t respect it.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t curse his name or toss a drink across the room.

You played the long game. Silent. Cold. You watched. Studied. Waited.

You didn’t retaliate like a woman scorned. You retaliated like a queen dethroning a would-be imposter.

Cira’s name first came up in a whisper — one of Sylus’s informants, trying to earn your favor. Said she was angling for access, asking questions too boldly, lingering too long.

“She wants more than his attention,” the informant had said. “She wants proximity to power.”

You’d simply nodded.

And so you called in your favourites .

The Twins. Loyal. Unquestioning. They always helped you no matter what you asked them.

“She thinks she’s climbing the ladder,” you told them, crossing one leg over the other in the lounge. “I want her to realize she’s been walking into a cage.”

They understood without further explanation.

It began slowly.

First, Cira’s apartment — the one paid for by a quiet offshore account — was emptied. Not ransacked. Cleared . Like she’d never lived there. No damage, no mess. Just absence.

Then her phone. Replaced. Identical in look, indistinguishable in feel — except now, every text, call, and breath she took was monitored. You read every message before she did. You saw her desperation form in real-time.

Sylus hasn’t texted.

Has he said anything to you?

Maybe I should just show up again…

She was still playing the game like it was chess. Still believed she had time to recover.

So you took her queen.

Her job — a cushy “consulting” position funded by one of Sylus’s shell companies — vanished. Her keycard denied access. Her name no longer on the roster.

“Must be an error,” the receptionist said with a well-trained shrug. “HR’s been changing systems.”

Cira nodded, confused, unnerved, but not afraid. Not yet.

Then came the black envelope. No name. No return address.

Just a location. Midnight. The Black Parlor.

She showed up, dressed to impress. Red again. Of course.

She didn’t see the SUVs parked across the street. Didn’t notice the man inside the bar — Kieran — switch off the cameras with a tap on his phone.

She entered the private suite. It was empty, save for you.

You sat there — legs crossed, in a dress that whispered money and menace, lit by a single golden chandelier.

Cira blinked, confused, caught off guard.

“This is private,” she said, faltering.

“It is,” you replied. “Sit.”

Your voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. You knew she would listen.

She sat.

You sipped your drink. Looked her over once, like she was something on a menu you hadn’t ordered.

“You touched what’s mine.”

She blinked. “I didn’t—”

“I’m not here to argue,” you said calmly. “I’m here to explain how this ends.”

Silence.

Cira shifted. “If this is about Sylus—”

“It’s not about Sylus,” you interrupted. “It’s about you . Thinking you could move in my world without permission. Thinking proximity meant immunity. Thinking the red dress made you dangerous.”

You stood. Walked toward her slowly.

“You walked into a room full of wolves wearing perfume and thought you were the hunter.”

Her face flushed. “I never meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

You leaned in slightly, your voice silk over steel.

“So let me teach you something, Cira. In this city, power doesn’t seduce. It selects. And Sylus? He doesn’t select twice.”

She swallowed.

You circled her chair once, then slid a velvet box onto the table in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Your out.”

Inside: a plane ticket. One way. To a city halfway across the world. A bundle of cash. A burner phone.

“And if I don’t take it?” she asked.

You smiled, the first real smile all evening.

“Then I send the twins.”

Cira flinched — not because she knew them personally, but because she’d heard of them .

The kind of names whispered in corridors. The kind of ghosts who came after midnight and left no footprints.

“I suggest you take the box,” you said, voice kind but final. “It’s the last mercy I’m offering.”

Cira stood. Grabbed it. Didn’t speak again.

She left.

She didn’t cry when they took her. Sylus’ men were discreet — polite, even. But the message was clear: she’d touched what didn’t belong to her. She had forgotten the rules.

Sylus stood beside you as the girl left the room, expression unreadable.

“She didn’t think it would come to this,” he said quietly, though there was amusement in his voice.

“She didn’t think I would come,” you replied.

He looked at you, something close to awe in his expression.

“You’re terrifying.”

You smirked. “That’s why you love me.”

He didn’t argue. He just lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles like you were royalty — because you were.

The girl disappeared and the city didn’t even blink.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 3 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Wink wonk.

ACT III.

The office buzzed with energy as the team gathered for an impromptu meeting. At this point, I had gotten used to the sudden meetings with absolutely no head start. Jungkook was not only controlling but impulsive as hell. No one knew what he was thinking, and for some, it was damn scary.

He stood at the head of the long conference table as me, Hoseok and Rya walked in. His expression sharp and focused over the scattered papers on the table. He wore a plain white button up shirt, dark grey jeans and his sleeves as usual were rolled up his sleeves showing off his tattoos. On one of his wrist there was an expensive Graff watch. Damn. Him and his expensiveness.

Next to him was Tina, practically glowing as she leaned just a little too close to him. Ever since I told her my piece of mind, she had been way too careful not to make it obvious because obviously people were whispering and spreading rumors. I guess she hasn't given up and had some hopes that she'd be noticed. As much as I despised her for how she treated me, I was feeling sorry for her at the same time. Her choice of clothing screamed attention too. Well, who was I to judge? I had no right to do that. Maybe someday the luck would be on her side, who knew? 

“Listen up,” Jungkook began once everyone had taken their seats, his voice commanding the room. “MNT Media, one of our main competitors, is hosting a masquerade ball next Saturday. It’s more than just a social event—they’re using it as a chance to attract high-profile clients. Our goal is to ensure they don’t take our edge in the market.”

Tina raised her hand with a smug smile. “And how exactly are we supposed to ‘outshine’ them? Is there, like, a plan for that?”

Jungkook barely glanced her way. “Do your job, Tina. That’s the plan.”

The smirk I tried to suppress threatened to break through. Tina’s face faltered, but she quickly covered it with another fake smile, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her slim pointer finger. Gosh, she was such a cheerleader.

The room hummed with murmurs of curiosity.

“What does this mean for us?” Rya asked from her seat, her brows knit together. I took a glance at her. Unlike Tina, Rya was not showing her "admiration" too obviously and besides, she was way too mature and work-oriented to choose a good session of sex with her boss. I admired her for that.

Jungkook gestured to a slide on the projector, outlining a strategic approach. “It means we’ll attend the ball. Every single one of you is expected to be there.We’re not going to outright sabotage, but we will make sure our clients and prospects see us as the better option. Keep it subtle—this isn’t a smear campaign. It’s about relationships and presence.”And yes,” Jungkook added, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife, “graphic designers too.” His voice held a sharp edge of authority, daring anyone to challenge him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of his statement. “Graphic designers too? I thought only management should be present there,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual. I had never been to a ball. A masquerade ball for that matter.

He turned his head sharply to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think your job is just fonts and colors, don’t you?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his eyes pinned me down, but I refused to back down. “Not exactly, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the table, his tattoos flexing as his forearms rested on the edge. “Visuals sell. A well-designed presentation, a strategically placed logo, or even the subtleties in our event materials can make or break a client’s first impression. We need all hands on deck for this. Even,” he paused, locking eyes with me, “the ones who think they’re just here to doodle.”

The room shifted uncomfortably, a few stifled chuckles breaking the tension. I narrowed my eyes, but there was no mistaking the magnetic pull in the air between us. I hated how his cockiness somehow made my pulse race.

Hoseok, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. “So... we’re all just attending or actively involved?”

“Actively,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat, his attention still on me. “You’ll each have tasks to ensure our brand presence is felt. It’s an opportunity to network, observe, and make sure MNT Media knows we’re not going anywhere.”

Just as I thought he might say something else to push me over the edge, he sighed dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” He raked a hand through his dark hair, his tone shifting to one of pure annoyance. “That idiot is late again.”

The room immediately relaxed but remained silent as everyone looked at each other. It was odd, since we were all caught up in that ball that we didn't notice Yoongi missing. Jungkook might have been a force to be reckoned with, but his annoyance with Yoongi being careless and late was an ongoing office joke.

“Probably got distracted by his latest overpriced gadget,” Hoseok quipped, earning a round of muffled laughs.

Jungkook let out a low groan, shaking his head like he was carrying the weight of the world—and Yoongi’s constant stumbles at work—on his shoulders. “If he weren’t my best friend, I’d have fired him five times by now.”

The mention of Yoongi and the Boss brought a flicker of thought to my mind, one that I quickly buried. But it lingered, uninvited. The rumors about Yoongi being more than just another employee—they never truly left me. Supposedly, he was the son of a conglomerate empire, someone who didn’t have to work here but chose to for reasons no one could quite figure out.

Me? I wasn’t deluded enough to think it was because of me, even though the timing was uncanny. Yoongi had started here just a few days after I did, but the whispers always suggested something else. His arrival was tied to some long-forgotten scandal, one no one had the full details on, and I had long given up trying to separate fact from fiction.

Still, the idea that Yoongi might be playing a role that went far deeper than just my “supervisor” always made me a little uneasy. Not that he ever actually supervised me. His attitude made sure of that.

“Yoongi always shows up just in time to avoid the worst of your wrath.” Tina spoke out in a sweet voice. I almost gagged.

“Lucky for him,” Jungkook muttered, leaning against the table with a long, deep sigh.

His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare crack in his polished, sharp-edged demeanor. For a moment, he looked... defeated. Vulnerable. It was enough to stir something deep in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

But the moment passed quickly. Jungkook straightened, his sharp gaze slicing through the room once again, as if daring Yoongi to make him wait a second longer.

-

As the meeting finally wrapped up, my mind drifted to a new problem. A masquerade ball meant dressing up. And dressing up meant facing my wardrobe—or lack of one. How was I supposed to show up when all I owned were dark jeans, oversized t-shirts, some cardigans and that was it. Most of my clothes were black too. 

After everyone returned to their desks, I cornered Rya and Hoseok by the water cooler.

“So,” I began hesitantly, “about this masquerade ball…”

Rya instantly perked up, her excitement palpable. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual masquerade ball! It’s like something out of a movie!”

“Yeah, except I have nothing to wear,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I don’t even know where to start. The last time I dressed up for anything was... well, never.”

Hoseok grinned, his easy charm shining through. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not about having the most expensive dress. It’s about confidence.”

Rya nodded enthusiastically. “I can help you find something to wear. There are plenty of places to rent gowns, and I bet you’ll look amazing once we get you sorted.”

Their support made my chest feel lighter, though a small part of me still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He was taller than Rya and me, and if we didn't know him, we'd be intimidated as hell. He definitely had this cool aura and a resting bitch face people felt threatened by. He was smiling tho, like a sun that shined brightly. “You’re not embarrassing anyone. Especially not us. You’re going to show up, have fun, and remind people why you’re a badass.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

As we headed back to our desks, Tina’s shrill laughter cut through the air. She was perched on the edge of Jungkook’s desk, her hand resting just a little too close to his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t need a date for the ball?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to make a snarky comment. “Careful, Tina. You’re about one giggle away from falling off his desk.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Stay out of it, Y/N. Didn't know fat people had opinions?”

“On the contrary,” I said, folding my arms as I leaned against my chair. “Watching you attempt to flirt is everyone’s business. But it's kinda amusing how pathetic you look. Keep it up, I will be rooting for you.” I gave her a bitter smile as she stared at me with a deep scowl on her face.

I noticed Jungkook’s lips twitch, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Enough, both of you. You are at a corporate setting.” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Oh, come on, Boss” I teased, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this little performance.”

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “You should focus on your own preparations, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you to show up unprepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I shot back, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. “I’ll be ready. The real question is whether you’ll survive Tina’s advances without filing a harassment complaint.”

I heard Rya and Hoseok chuckle by my side.

Jungkook shot a glare at both of my co-workers and they immediately got silent. I narrowed my eyes, arms crossed against my chest. "Y/N, if I hear one more word coming out of your mouth, I will expect your resignation letter on my desk." he spoke coldly at me. By his expression I could see that he was done with my feistiness. Oh, but I wasn't done. "If you think silencing me will solve the problem, you're underestimating me." I mumbled lowly as I stared at his eyes. He did the same and somehow I felt a tension raise in the air. Before I could continue, Rya tugged my arm toward the office, making our conversation to come to an end. Tina was staring at me in full blown surprise that I was talking to Jungkook like that. "Why don't you fire her?" I heard her ask. And then no answer from my Boss.

As I turned back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on me, or the strange twist in my stomach that followed. This masquerade ball was shaping up to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

"Girl," Rya whispered, "you are getting bolder and bolder. I fucking love that." she managed to whisper in my ear and that comment alone made me and Hoseok giggle.

-

The cafeteria was bustling with its usual noise—people chatting over their lunches, trays clattering as they moved through the line. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked goods hit my nostrils, yet the familiar knot in my stomach twisting made all the apetite I had disappear. This time, it wasn’t because of my body or my insecurities. It was the looming threat of the masquerade ball.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of being surrounded by coworkers in an extravagant setting, feeling out of place in a sea of confident, stylish people... well, it didn’t sit well with me.

I sat with Hoseok, Rya, and a few others, trying to keep the conversation light. It was hard to focus on anything when I could already feel the weight of the ball hanging over me. I was always an anxious person and it took me months to get used to the pace of my work, despite the bullying.

“So, Hoseok,” Regina, one of the other graphic designers, piped up from across the table. She flipped her perfectly styled red hair over her shoulder, a flirty grin spreading across her face. “I was thinking… maybe you could be my date for the masquerade? You know, just the two of us. We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?”

My eyes flicked to Hoseok, and I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hesitated for a split second before speaking.

“I... I actually promised Rya I’d go with her,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, I noticed.

Regina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, pretending to be completely unfazed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Rya’s a great choice too.” She gave Rya a bright, fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rya smiled back, but her expression was a bit surprised. “Oh, um, sure, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, Hoseok.” She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

Regina’s attention had already moved on, her focus turning elsewhere, but I couldn’t help but notice how Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Rya for a second longer than usual. I wondered if there was something more there—something unspoken.

But before I could process the thought, my mind wandered again. It had only been a few days since I’d overheard that conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, and I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s words had echoed in my mind. The teasing. The lingering tension.

I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation at hand, though I could barely focus.

Regina, in her usual confident manner, turned to the group with a loud dramatic sigh as she took a sip from her pepsi cola. 

“You know,” she began, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “it’s just so tragic when some people can’t even hope for a date. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Just... stay home and stuff yourself with food?”

Her gaze landed on me, lingering just long enough to make her target obvious. My chest tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date,” I shot back, forcing a calm tone I didn’t entirely feel. I mean, I lied, I was obsessed to find a date and also obsessed in looking good enough so people would take me seriously and not embarrass the company I worked for. Wasn't I pathetic too? Regina didn't have to know that.

Regina’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, of course! Why would you worry about that, right? It’s not like anyone’s lining up to take you out. I mean,” she added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “you’d probably have better luck on one of those makeover shows first. You know, before they film the big reveal.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating, but I refused to let her see it.

“You done?” I asked, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor with an echoing screech, silencing the room for a moment.

Regina blinked at me, her smile faltering for a split second before returning even sharper. “Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me keep you from... whatever it is you do.”

I walked away before she could twist the knife any further, my head held high despite the storm raging inside me.

My stomach churned at the underlying judgment. Of course, Regina thought I wasn’t worthy of a "real" date. She probably thought someone like me didn’t belong in that kind of environment to begin with.

Everyone seemed to have someone to go with. Hoseok had Rya. Regina had probably already found someone else from the other teams. And me? I’d be the one standing alone, a face in the crowd with no one to share the night with.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to the ball at all. What would I even wear? How could I stand in a sea of perfectly put-together people when I didn’t even feel like I belonged in the same room as them?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It was a text from Rya:

“Hey, don’t worry about anything. We’re going together. I’ll help you with the outfit too!”

Her message brought a small smile to my face, but the unease still lingered. I typed a quick response as I was walking down the empty long hallway of the offices.

“Thanks, Rya. I just… don’t know if I should go. I feel like I’ll be the odd one out.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t even think that way! You’re going to have a blast, I promise. And we’re all going to be together, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I stared at the message, the reassurance in her words offering some comfort, but I still wasn’t convinced. 

Still, I couldn’t let my fears stop me. I had to at least try. I wouldn’t let them see how insecure I was.

Lost in thought as I walked down the hallway, I didn’t notice someone coming around the corner until we collided. A sharp thud was followed by a cascade of papers and folders scattering to the ground. I stumbled back, startled, as the other person muttered a low curse.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a smooth, slightly annoyed voice.

Looking up, I realized it was Min Yoongi, arms now empty as he surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. He crouched down to gather the papers, his expression unreadable but somehow laced with that signature playful smugness he was known for. I noticed his brown locks of hair were a mess, it was almost as if he had just gotten up and rushed here. Well, probably after a call by Jungkook he had to rush here. He was late after all.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, immediately dropping to my knees to help collect the documents.

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he remarked casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he snatched up a folder near my hand. “Big plans? Or is brooding your thing now?”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a retort. His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t shake the lingering sting from Regina’s earlier comments.

“Just distracted,” I replied shortly, stacking the papers I’d gathered into a neat pile.

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Right. Distracted. Let me guess—you’re working on your master plan to snag a date for the ball? I am guessing you don't have one.” He leaned back on his heels, still crouched, and fixed me with a playful, knowing look.

I froze, his words cutting deeper than I expected, though his tone remained light.

When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not going. Everyone’s talking about it. Even Tina’s got her claws in Jungkook.” His gaze flicked over me, his smirk sharpening. “Or is it that no one’s brave enough to take you?”

The heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date, Yoongi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True,” he replied with a shrug, standing up and brushing off his hands. “But it’s a shame, you know? All dressed up, standing by yourself in the corner. It’s a picture-perfect Cinderella moment, minus the Prince Charming.”

I glared up at him, my hands gripping the stack of papers a little too tightly. “Thanks for the advice,” I said flatly, shoving the papers into his chest as I stood up and headed down the hall without waiting for him to say anything else. 

-

The hum of the office felt louder than usual as I sat at my desk, trying to get through the endless list of tasks I had to finish before the end of the day. The masquerade ball loomed over me, but today, something about the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Rya and Hoseok in my head. Maybe it was because deep down, I still wasn’t sure I belonged in that world? But in that moment, the phone in my hand buzzed, pulling me out of my spiral.

I glanced at the screen: Tae <3

I smiled to myself, swiping on the screen and gluing the phone to my ear. "Hey, Tae," I greeted, my voice a little lighter than it had been all day. Hearing his voice always made all the tiredness, worry and anxiety disappear.

"Hey, Y/N! I was just thinking about you," Taehyung’s warm, melodic voice greeted me through the phone. It was a comfort, like a hug I couldn’t see. "How are you doing?"

"Surviving, as always. Work’s a nightmare right now, and now there’s this whole masquerade ball thing. Honestly, I’m kind of dreading it."

He chuckled softly on the other end. "Yeah, I heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about. Are you going?"

I hesitated, fiddling with a pen on my desk. "Yeah. But I’m not exactly excited about it. Everyone’s got their dates… I don’t know, it feels like I’ll just end up standing awkwardly in the corner all night."

"Y/N," Taehyung said, his voice warm and reassuring, "you could show up wearing a potato sack, and you’d still outshine everyone. Don’t let those kinds of thoughts ruin it for you."

I smiled, the genuine kindness in his words making me feel lighter. "Thanks, Tae. You’re always so good at making me feel better."

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, that’s kind of why I called. I was wondering if… well, if you’d want to go with me to the ball. As my date."

His words made my heart skip a beat, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "You’re serious?"

"Of course I am," he said, laughing softly. "I think it could be fun. We’d stick together, and I’ll make sure you have a great time. No pressure, though."

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Jungkook standing there. His arms were crossed, and his expression was calm—too calm.

"Work call?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. "It’s personal."

"You’re busy, then," he said, his voice almost teasing but carrying a hint of something sharper. "Too bad—I was going to tell you there’s something urgent you need to handle. Guess it can wait."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my grip on the phone tightening. "If it’s so urgent, why don’t you handle it?"

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I said quickly, brushing off Jungkook’s attempt to derail the conversation. "Sorry about that. So, you were saying…?"

"I was asking if you’d go to the ball with me," Taehyung said again, his voice warm but clearer now.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he took in Taehyung’s words. His gaze darted to my phone, then back to me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That sounds great, Tae," I said, my voice bright despite the tension. "I’d love to go with you."

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darkened, though he forced a sharp, insincere smile. "Perfect," he said, his tone icy. "I’m sure you and your friend will have a great time."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his steps echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N?" Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence, pulling my attention back to the phone. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was racing. "It’s nothing. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungkook’s reaction lingering in the air, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I was weirded out from the way he acted. Why was he so stingy for?

-

It was Friday afternoon, a two days after our meeting about that ball was held and the tension in the office seemed to be building, as if everyone was bracing themselves for the masquerade ball that was looming just days away. It was all anyone could talk about. Some of my coworkers were still obsessing over their outfits, while others were already talking about their plans.

I was organizing some documents at my desk, trying to stay focused despite the whirlwind of thoughts running through my mind about the masquerade ball. The idea of going felt daunting, especially when it seemed like everyone already had their perfect plans sorted out.

"Y/N," a low, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of my desk, his signature smirk playing on his lips. I frowned. He did not approach me unless it was work related. I wondered what was it this time.

"Hey," I said, surprised yet skeptical of his approach. "What’s up?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the papers I was shuffling. "Not much. Just… figured I’d check in."

I arched an eyebrow. "Check in? What for?"

Yoongi’s smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation? Nerves? It was so subtle I almost missed it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone suddenly more casual. "You know, about the ball—" 

"Y/N!" Rya’s voice rang out, cutting through Yoongi’s words like a sharp knife. I turned to see her bounding toward us, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Yoongi straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he stepped back, giving Rya room to invade the space.

"Hey, Rya," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Rya said, ignoring Yoongi entirely. "So, I had this amazing idea! We should totally go dress shopping together for the ball tomorrow. I know this great place, and we can make a whole day of it and then me, Hoseok and you can go out clubbing after? I am in a mood for some drinks!" Clubbing? Oh god. It has been what- years since I went there? Too much people, loud music and bodies bodies pressing against each other.

I glanced at Yoongi, who was watching the interaction with a blank expression, though his eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That sounds fun," I said, offering Rya a small smile. "I will think about the clubbing part tho."

Rya grinned, nodding her head, yet she finally noticed Yoongi standing there. "Oh, hey. Didn’t see you. What are you doing here?"

"Just talking to Y/N," he said, his tone clipped. "But I’ll let you two get back to your plans."

With that, he turned and walked away, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever frustration he might have felt.

I watched him leave, a strange pang of guilt tugging at me. Had he been about to ask something important?

"Isn’t it great?" Rya said, pulling me back into the moment. "We’ll find the perfect dress for you. You’re going to look amazing."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, though my mind was still on Yoongi and the words he hadn’t gotten a chance to say.

-

The soft hum of the mall's ambient music barely registered as Rya and I made our way through the racks of dresses. The neon lights overhead cast a warm glow over everything, but my mind was far from the sparkly fabrics hanging in front of me. We’d been at it for what felt like hours, and I was still having trouble settling on anything that felt like me. The ball was a week away and I was a ball of anxiety.

"How about this one?" Rya asked, holding up a shimmering emerald green dress, the fabric catching the light. She seemed determined to find something that would make me stand out—something that would make me feel like I belonged.

I shook my head, glancing over the dress with a hesitant frown. "It’s pretty, but I don't know... I think it’s a bit too much." I sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "I'm just not sure I want to be noticed that much, you know?"

Rya raised an eyebrow, her fingers still gripping the hanger. "You're seriously telling me you're going to let some people in the office make you feel like you don't deserve to be seen?" She shook her head, pushing the dress aside. "No way. You deserve to wear something that makes you feel confident, strong and sexy."

I smiled weakly, appreciating her effort to boost me, but inside, I felt like I was just pretending. None of it mattered when the people at work—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—were still constantly tearing me down.

As I stared at the dresses in the store, Rya’s voice cut through the silence, a casual comment that made my head snap up.

“You know, I have noticed that the Boss and Yoongi act weird lately,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else—curiosity?

I turned to face her, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Weird? What do you mean?"

Rya set down a dress she had been holding, turning toward me with a knowing look. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way they’ve been acting around you. They’ve both tried to approach you, Y/N, and it seemed like they were going to invite you to the ball.”

I blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Yoongi and Jungkook? Invite me?" I laughed, the sound more disbelieving than amused. "That’s ridiculous. Why would they even do that?"

Rya’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it’s not like them. They’ve never been this... friendly with you before. And it’s not just me—other people have noticed it too. It’s like they’re genuinely interested in you.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of Yoongi and Jungkook—two people who had made a habit of mocking me—suddenly being “interested” in me was too much to process.

“No, Rya. I don’t buy it,” I said, shaking my head. "They’ve always treated me like crap. They’ve made fun of me for months, and now suddenly they want to take me to the ball? No way."

Rya didn’t seem convinced. “But why would they bother trying to invite you if they didn’t care at all? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re actually—"

I cut her off, frustration creeping into my voice. "Rya, this isn’t about attraction. It’s probably some stupid game to them, a way to mess with me. They’re probably seeing who can get the ‘fat girl’ first and have a good laugh at my expense."

Rya looked at me seriously, like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. "I get it. I just wanted to point out that something feels different this time."

I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, if it is different, I don’t want to be part of it. They’ve always been cruel. That’s not going to change just because they want a date for the ball."

Rya sighed, clearly frustrated but still patient. “I understand, Y/N. I just want you to know that you’re worth more than their games, okay?” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you. And this dress? It’s perfect for you.”

I took the dress she offered me, holding it against my body as I studied myself in the mirror.The royal blue dress shimmered softly under the light, its rich color catching my eye right away. The off-shoulder neckline framed my shoulders perfectly, while the fabric crossed gently over the bodice, and I knew that it was going to hug the shape of my body in just the right way. The sleeves were long and smooth, giving it an elegant feel, and the skirt flowed down from the waist, simple but beautiful as it brushed the floor. The material was soft and comfortable in my hands, with just enough weight to feel secure but not heavy. As I turned, the dress moved with me, flowing naturally and making me feel like I could wear it anywhere and still feel amazing. It wasn’t just a dress—it felt like it belonged to me.

Rya leaned against the doorframe, watching as I studied myself in the mirror. Her knowing smile made me feel both self-conscious and reassured. “You'd look incredible wearing it,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of doubt clouding my mind. “You’d turn every head at the ball in that.”

I placed the dress down gently, avoiding her gaze. “I am not used to all the attention...”

She straightened, folding her arms as her tone shifted into something more persuasive. “Y/N, when are you going to stop letting their crap define what you do? You’ve always been better than that, and now? You’ve got the chance to show it.”

I sighed, running my hand over the fabric of the dress again. “It’s not that easy, Rya.”

“What is?” she shot back. “Look, if the ball feels too messy, fine. But tonight? Come out with me and Hoseok. No pressure, no expectations. Just a night to breathe, dance, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to take up space without caring what anyone else thinks.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for clubbing.”

She tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, please. We both know you need this. Hoseok’s got the energy of ten people, and he already said he’d buy the first round. Plus,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “you know you’ve been dying to see what he’s like on the dance floor.” Hoseok had mentioned that before he became a Social Media Specialist, he was owning a dance studio downtown and he was the best of them all. However, he had to shut the studio down due to lack of money. Which was unfortunate. Everyone deserved to follow their dreams.

I laughed despite myself. “Fine, maybe that’s true. But I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

Rya’s eyes lit up, sensing victory. “I’ll help you pick something out. Something killer. And trust me, when you’re out there, laughing with us, and feeling like the badass you are, you’ll be glad you said yes.”

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come. But if Hoseok tries to drag me into one of his ridiculous dance battles, I’m blaming you.”

Her grin widened as she clapped her hands together. “Deal. Now after we chose a dress for you, let’s get you ready to turn some heads for tonight.”

-

The evening had settled in, and it was finally Saturday night—an evening I had been both anticipating and dreading. A few hours ago, Rya and I had spent what felt like an eternity picking out dresses. After much back-and-forth, I had found the perfect one: the royal blue dress that fit me like a glove. It shimmered softly under the light and made me feel like I was someone else—someone confident and powerful. It was a far cry from the usual clothes I’d wear, but something about it felt right and elegant.

I’d also grabbed a few other things for tonight—something a bit more casual for the club, but still fitting the vibe. Rya had promised me a good time, and I figured I might as well go with it. I hadn’t really done anything fun for myself in a long time, and the club seemed like the perfect way to break out of the monotony.

Sitting in my apartment now, I relaxed into the couch with Hades curled up beside me. I had a few hours before Rya and Hoseok would pick me up—around eleven—but the anticipation of what the night might bring was already starting to settle in my stomach. The drinks were free, the entrance was covered until midnight, and they were headed to one of the most famous clubs called "Devil's Dreads", known for its great music and even better drinks. Hoseok had practically been vibrating with excitement as soon as he heard that I was coming clubbing with him and Rya tonight, and it was hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I was just about to reach for my phone when it buzzed on the coffee table. The caller ID showed “Mom & Dad” and I smiled despite myself. I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days, and I figured it was the right time to check in.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!” I answered, sitting up and adjusting my position on the couch. Hades stirred but didn’t get up, just snuggling closer to my side.

“Y/N, my love! How are you?” my mom’s familiar voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. “You’ve been so busy lately. Have you been eating enough?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Just work, you know? It’s been a little hectic.”

“You always say that,” my dad’s voice chimed in, his deep tone carrying an affectionate teasing. “Tell us something fun. What’s been going on with you?”

I smiled, glancing around my small apartment. “Well, actually, there’s a company masquerade a week from now. It’s for work. We’ve been working on a big project, and uh Taehyung called me and invited me to be his date since he is going as well.”

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, followed by the sound of my mom speaking quietly with my dad in their native language.

My dad’s voice came as an answer a few moments later, a little more serious now. “Y/N, we’ve known Taehyung since you were little. He’s a good man. And we’ve seen how much he cares for you.”

The weight of his words hit me unexpectedly. “I—Dad, I don’t think…” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond. I had never thought about Taehyung in that way. He was just my friend, someone who had been there for me when no one else was.

My mom’s voice softened, a tone I knew well from years of gentle guidance. “Sweetheart, sometimes the person who cares for you most is the one who’s been there for you all along. Not the ones who just chase after you when you look good in a dress.”

I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, unsure how to take their words. “Mom, I don’t know. I’m not ready for that kind of thing, especially not with Taehyung. We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to mess that up.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture my mom’s thoughtful expression. “We’re not trying to push you, darling. We just want you to be happy. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. “But for now, I’m just focused on work.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said, his voice reassuring as always. “Just remember to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“I’ll talk to you both soon, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” my mom said. “And have fun at the ball. We’ll be waiting to hear all about it!”

“I love you guys, bye.” I said, hanging up the phone, feeling a mix of warmth and confusion. The conversation had been more than I expected, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said.

As I sat there in the quiet of my apartment, Hades curled up beside me once again, I found myself lost in thought. Taehyung? Could he really have feelings for me? I’d always seen him as a friend, but my parents seemed so sure. It felt like the idea came out of nowhere, and yet... maybe there was something to it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t know if I was ready to confront that possibility, but for tonight, I had a night out with Rya and Hoseok to look forward to. Maybe I just needed to focus on that for now—enjoy myself, let loose, and stop overthinking everything.

Rya and Hoseok were picking me up in just a few hours. The drinks were free, the club was waiting, and I wasn’t going to let any of my doubts ruin the night. For once, I was going to let go and enjoy the ride.

-

It had been ages since I’d stepped foot into a club. The pulsating bass, the kaleidoscope of lights, the hum of people enjoying the night—it all felt foreign yet oddly thrilling. Devil’s Dreads was a sight to behold, unlike any club I’d ever been to. The VIP section on the second floor, where we were seated, offered the perfect balance of exclusivity and immersion. From here, we had a clear view of the stage bathed in fiery orange and violet hues, with sleek, futuristic lighting patterns that pulsed in time with the music. The plush, deep purple couches I sank into were ridiculously comfortable, making it feel less like a club and more like some hidden lounge in a sci-fi movie.

Looking down at the main floor, I could see the crowd moving like waves to the hypnotic beats. But up here, it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, which was a luxury I didn’t know I needed until now.

Rya was the first to order. She went all out with something bold—a sparkling martini topped with edible glitter. It matched her red short dress perfectly, shimmering under the soft light like it was made just for her. I laughed when she held it up for a dramatic toast, the red matching sequins of her dress making her look like she belonged on the stage herself. Her dirty blonde hair was curled just perfectly, lifted in a messy bun style — Pamela Anderson. And her make up did not disappoint, dark, smoky and sexy, fitting her dark blue eyes perfectly.

Hoseok, being Hoseok, opted for a vodka on ice and an old-fashioned style of outfit. It was simple, strong, and sophisticated, just like him. His black button-down shirt with those subtle gold accents caught the light in just the right way, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches or cologne. He wore black ripped jeans and his hair was messily styled. He looked like an model.

And then there was me. I scanned the menu nervously, feeling the weight of their expectations. It had been so long since I’d ordered a drink at a club, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. My eyes landed on something fruity and innocent-sounding—a cocktail called Strawberry Dream. The description promised a blend of strawberries, peach, and a “whisper” of vodka. Perfect. I didn’t want to get hammered on the first drink.

But, boy, was it deceiving. Rya had managed to pick the perfect dress for me. Firstly, I never wore something so short, and secondly, I almost never was opting for dresses. Jeans were more comfortable for me, but in this case, I loved how this dress fitted me.

I felt bold and my dress definitely matched the vibe. The black mini-dress I chose hugged my curves perfectly, the structured bodice giving it a corset-like edge that made me feel powerful. The neckline was the real star, though—crisscross straps framing my shoulders and collarbones in a way that was sultry but still sophisticated. The long sleeves balanced the look, keeping it sleek and elegant, while the fabric clung just right, making me feel like the main character.

I paired it with gold hoop earrings for a touch of glam, a natural make up made by myself and my hair was curled in beautiful long curls that framed my features, which gave me this effortless, confident vibe. As I glanced at myself in the reflection of my drink, I couldn’t help but smile—I looked like I belonged in a place like this.

We didn’t waste much time lounging. Once our drinks arrived, the music pulled us in. Rya was already dragging me up to dance, and Hoseok followed close behind. It felt freeing to let go for a while, to sway to the music and laugh until my sides hurt. I sipped my cocktail in between songs, the sweetness of the drink making it go down far too easily. Before I knew it, I was on my third glass, and the room was beginning to tilt—not in a bad way, but in that warm, buzzy, I’m-gonna-regret-this-tomorrow way. -

The music was pounding through my body, the bass so heavy it felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat. Hoseok and Rya were right there with me, the three of us lost in the rhythm, moving to the beat like we didn’t have a care in the world. The alcohol buzzing through me made everything feel lighter, almost dreamlike. The edges of the room seemed to blur as I twirled under the neon lights, laughing at something Hoseok said, though I couldn’t hear a word over the music.

That’s when I felt it—a hand on my waist, warm and unfamiliar.

I turned, a little dazed, to find a man I didn’t recognize standing close. Too close. His smile was charming enough, but the way his hand lingered made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Still, the cocktails had softened my edges, and my better judgment was slow to catch up. He leaned in, his lips moving as he said something I couldn’t hear over the music. Before I knew it, I was swaying with him, letting him guide my movements.

It was harmless, right? Just a little dancing. At least, that’s what my tipsy brain told me as I let myself follow his lead. But then his hand moved lower, settling on my hip, and a quiet alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. I froze for a second, unsure what to do, but before I could even process the situation, Rya and Hoseok were already on it.

“Hey!” Rya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and the guy. Her sequin-covered arm reached out, pushing his hand away from me with more force than I expected.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, his easygoing smile replaced with something steely and firm. “She’s with us,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking. “Back off.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing up, but his eyes lingered on me for a second too long before he disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, feeling the haze of alcohol and adrenaline mix into a confusing swirl. “What just happened?” I muttered, my words slurring slightly.

Rya looped an arm around my shoulders, her expression softening as she guided me back toward our booth. “You were letting some random creep get a little too close,” she said gently but firmly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok added, his tone lighter now that the guy was gone. “You’re lucky you have us to keep an eye on you.”

I let out a weak laugh, grateful but also embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize…”

“It’s the cocktails,” Rya said knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here, though. To make sure you’re good.”

As we made our way back to the VIP booth, I could still feel the ghost of the guy’s hand on my waist, but it was fading now, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. Rya and Hoseok weren’t just my friends—they were my safety net. And right now, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I leaned back against the balcony railing, catching my breath, when the familiar face in the crowd below stopped me cold. At first, I thought it was just my tipsy brain playing tricks on me. But no. It was him.

Yoongi.

My stomach did a weird flip as I watched him stride through the main entrance like he owned the place. His tailored black blazer and crisp shirt beneath screamed confidence, and his sharp gaze scanned the crowd with ease.

His eyes landed on me—on us—and widened slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement that crossed his face first, but by the time he started walking toward our booth, his signature smirk had taken over.

“What brings you all here?” he asked casually as he reached us, his voice low enough to compete with the music but still clear. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable.

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, clapped him on the shoulder. “What, are we not allowed to hang out at the best place in town?”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly entertained. “You have good taste. But from the looks of it…” He motioned toward the now-empty cocktail glasses on our table. “...you’re drinking like tourists.”

I flushed under his gaze. “Excuse me,” I said, my words slightly slurred, “but I’ll have you know this drink was amazing.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, and he leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Amazing, huh? You might want to pace yourself. Those are just the appetizers.”

It was then that it hit me. The way he carried himself, the way the staff seemed to acknowledge him without a word, the way he spoke like he owned the place…

“Wait,” I blurted out, blinking through the haze of tipsiness. “Do you… own this place?”

The smirk deepened, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Figured it out, did you?” He looked entirely too smug. “Welcome to Devil’s Dreads. My little slice of chaos.”

[sinisterexaggerator]

Sidetracked

The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x F!Reader

Summary: Your mother is the matriarch of one of the largest merchant houses and crime families in the state of New California. Her reach extends as far as the Mojave. She has ten children—you are only one of them—yet you dare to have the gall to steal from her for a better cause, a different future. Will you be able to make a new life for yourself? Will her hired merc, the Ghoul, turn you in for caps so that she can take her sweet revenge? Or, will you strike a bargain with the man himself?

Warnings/NSFW 18+ for: Foul language, PiV sex, doggy-style, cunnilingus, sass, brat-taming, mild non-con elements, fingering, cum eating, tit-fondling, roughhousing, face-sitting, cat and mouse chase, and use of rope as a restraint. There is a mention of you/reader having a mother and siblings.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: This is my first time writing for the Ghoul, though I have written for both Hancock and NIck Valentine in the past! I'm a slut for Cad Bane (Star Wars), another hot n' sexy bounty hunter with a bad attitude, so diggin' the Ghoul tracks. This reader and her backstory are loosely based on the Van Graffs from Fallout: New Vegas.

Reblogs / likes / comments appreciated! You will find the ending makes a part two entirely possible, depending on if I ever decide to write one. :D

Ao3

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

The bastard had a voice like flint—smooth, with a hard edge—a needle of frustration piercing the Ghoul’s otherwise calm disposition. He’d been hot on your trail for days, but his little plaything had always been one step ahead—until now, that is—the bounty hunter having finally cornered his quarry in a rundown, ramshackle, shithole of a town that had a bare-bones population of one—you—not countin’ the ferals.

You were cowering behind refuse outside a dilapidated warehouse, he was inspecting his top-break custom revolver, preemptively reloading after wasting shots on two necrotic roamers that had almost interrupted this little shindig. The barrel snapped back into place with a resounding crack that made you wince, convinced he wasn’t out to kill you, though he was putting on quite the show.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart—the way you’ve been hoarding bullets for that ten millimeter of yours, I’d say you were about out of ammo. ‘Course, that won’t do you a bit of good now you’ve got five or six man-eaters just to the south, and me right here in front of you. Thinkin’ it’s about time you and I had a little heart-to-heart, whaddaye say?”

“Fuck you!” you seethed, teeth clenching as you grappled your wounded arm. The bullet hole had been placed there by none other than your pursuer some two miles back, the trek through the barren wastes taking its toll—along with a fair amount of blood loss—yet you would persist.

You had managed to lose him outside New Reno in a place that used to be called Silver Springs. A settlement had cropped up, but of course the shopkeep had been all out of stims, and there was no medical doctor on hand.

Once the streets started to clear, you knew he had arrived; you snuck out the back like a proper scoundrel before he could sniff you out, giving yourself at least one hour’s head start.

“Now, that ain’t necessarily off the table for a pretty girl like you, but one thing my momma taught me back some two hundred years…” he paused for dramatic effect, the shit-eating grin he bore edging its way into thick, mocking words, the Ghoul’s charming drawl sending unwelcomed prickles down your spine.

“It’s fine to play with your food, as long as you still eat it.”

Fear overtook you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your fight or flight response threatened to kick in. The hunter was merciless, hounding you like a bloodthirsty dog out to appease its master—the woman had who had put the price on your head, and a hefty sum at that: your own mother, the matriarch of your dear family.

You stalled for time, attempting to concoct a plan of action in order to get yourself out of this mess. “I’m sure you’d love the way I taste,” you quipped, looking desperately to the left and right for any semblance of an escape route—you may as well have been trapped between a rock and a hard place, either forced to give yourself up, or to risk your life at the hands of irradiated zombies that would just as soon tear you apart as they would look at you; you only had three bullets left.

The Ghoul sucked his teeth, a two-stop articulation of his tongue, clucking the roof of his mouth. He found you to be amusing, a cynical shake of his head signaling he wholeheartedly disagreed.

“Ya know, the old lady didn’t specify dead or alive… We could always test that little theory of yours, if only you’d come out, come out, wherever ya are,” the demon taunted, standing to his full height as he left the cover of an old newspaper stand.

The merc adjusted his Cattleman crown, stepping over bits of debris and rotting wood, distressed leather boots dusting up dirt as he traipsed lazily toward the sound of your voice.

“I imagine what with havin’ nine other kids, she ain’t too worried ‘bout losin’ one —especially a traitor.”

“I’m not a traitor!” you shouted without thinking, voice laced with indignation. You kept your place, despite the Ghoul inching his way forward, thinking perhaps he could be persuaded to your side.

“Mother hoards resources, has anyone killed who looks at her funny, refuses to cooperate with the New California Republic, and all in the name of profits!” you glowered. “The whole family is greedy! Just waiting around for her to die, fighting over whose next in line to run our ‘Empire!’ I’m sick of it!” you emphasized, tone rising in pitch as your temper began to soar.

“Well, now I’ve heard everything…” He was closer now; you clutched your weapon so hard your knuckles changed colors, knowing you wouldn’t stand a chance against this asshole if he got his hands on you. Your mother was always hiring mercs to do her dirty work, and this was no exception.

“Sick of bein’ rich and powerful? Always gotta be one good one outta the bunch,” he lamented, tone dripping with sarcasm, the Ghoul reminiscing on pre-war oligarchs and their self-righteous offspring. He vaguely recalled a princess being a do-gooder, until the royal family had called in a hit and done her in.

He halted his trek through the sand, giving a curious tilt of his head. This would be the first time you saw the man up close, peeking out to be met with two hazel eyes, bichromatic, like radial sunbursts, blues and browns culminating together like sand and ocean in a mix you had a hard time denying was anything but beautiful.

You scowled, readying your pistol. “The world’s fucked!” you growled, “and someone’s gotta unfuck it, get it? Even if only one piece at a time!”

You bit your lip to distract from a sudden flash of pain in your bicep, your next few words riddled with ache, an audible quaver unable to be obscured, even by your anger. “It may as well be me! Someone who has something to give back,” you argued, wanting to use your family’s powerful position to others’ benefit.

The Ghoul didn’t bother to move, watching as you recoiled to take cover once more. He was well aware of your gunshot wound, thinking maybe he could talk some sense into you before things escalated, not that he cared either way—he would get paid regardless.

“Too bad about that arm,” he commented offhand, feigning concern; you thought he sounded bored, realizing he was humoring you by letting the conversation go on for this long.

That, or he liked to hear himself talk.

“Now, you decide you want to behave yourself, I got somethin’ to patch that up, and maybe you’ll just make it out of this alive.”

“Or—” he paused, what was a brief silence feeling like it would stretch on forever. You grew impatient for what you knew was going to come next: some kind of threat of intent to injure, or an appeal to any remaining gumption—you had plenty. “—I could put a bullet in that pretty head of yours and drag you back to Redding; seems like a waste on two counts, one being the ammo.”

“That’s about as far as I’m willin’ to elucidate,” the Ghoul warned, his voice decidedly calm, easily demonstrating the seriousness of your predicament and demarcating his lack of patience. “So, what’ll it be? You bein’ a good girl for me, or are ya gonna make this hard?”

It was obvious this man would only answer to two things: brute force, or cold, hard caps. You had neither, at least not on hand. What you did have were those three bullets. You dared to use one, knowing that the Ghoulification process did not make one immortal on all counts.

You had enough target practice back home to be a fairly decent shot, but the gunslinger was faster. He sidestepped for you to barely graze the edge of his tattered duster, threadbare from overwear, having nearly exhausted its utility.

A smirk played out across the Ghoul’s plush mouth, stretching his withered skin. He shook his head, not thinking you’d have the guts to go and do that, though he was impressed you still had any fight left in you. “Self-preservation must not be in your wheelhouse.”

Shit. Why hadn’t you kept any of those energy weapons on hand? You had buried them, the same as the money, far out in the desert below the cracked foundation of a crumbling homestead. You meant to distribute them, along with the caps, to disparate settlements. To buy water in abundance from roaming caravans, hoping to find yourself in some other trade—one that wasn’t soul sucking and abhorrent.

You wanted the people to be able to protect themselves from your fool of a mother and her parasitic spawn, those among your siblings who had no independent thought. She spread them out across the Mojave, made them into managers and enforcers for the various branches of her mercantile empire, directing them to do her bidding.

Unsanctioned deals were rare; no one had the gall to go behind your mother’s back. No one but you, it seemed, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let you off the hook just for being family.

“Guess that means you’ve gone and picked the latter, eh, sweetheart?

The Ghoul’s footsteps advanced as he closed in on your position. The bits of scrap and trash you were hiding behind did little in the way of shielding you, leaving you open and vulnerable to whatever it was the hunter had in store.

You were out of options; you fired your last two shots.

The first one missed, but the second nicked the bastard’s hat, the Ghoul stopping in his tracks long enough to pick the Cattleman up off his head. He observed where you had marred its brim, scowling before replacing it back where it belonged, thinking this had just become a little bit more personal.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, his voice dangerous and rasping, causing your spit to all but evaporate, assisted by the dry heat of this godforsaken tundra.

The time had come for you to bolt, though your odds of escape were poor. You had little faith in your ability to outrun this man, but all you could do was try.

Clutching your wounded arm, you crawled out from behind your makeshift barrier. No sooner had you turned to flee than he made use of his toys, easily snatching you around your waist by way of a braided rope.

You’d been lassoed like an untamed mare, the Ghoul determined to break your spirit, if not your legs, dragging you backward across the sand one inch at a time. You squirmed like caught prey, tugging at the length of rope that bound you. It was to no avail, as the knot was tight, this not being among the Ghoul’s first rodeos.

“Let me go!” you screeched, digging in the heels of your boots to slow his backward pull. There was no way you were going quietly without a fight, not if this might be the last thing you ever had the chance to do of your own volition.

The Ghoul chuckled wryly, finding this whole bit to be amusing. “If I had a cap for every time I heard that, bettin’ I’d be rich.”

You were angrier than a rabid Yao guai, finding unfairness in your situation, wondering why it was that bad things always seemed to happen to good people, or those who tried to be anything but cruel.

If there was one thing you had learned in this life, it was that money talked. It was a shame that it was all you had to bargain with, or so you thought, but only if the Ghoul bought into your offer and there was no telling where his morals lay.

For all you knew, he could be doing this for fun—caps might be a bonus. And it was hard to say if he'd be willing to cross your clan, even if you could match what your mother was paying him.

“Please,” you started, trying to invoke his decency, calling out to any that might be left beneath that ghoulish exterior, though your captor was known by and large to be rather rough and tumble; you would not allow yourself to get your hopes up. “We can strike a deal—I’ll match your price. Hell, I’ll do better—just tell me how much!” you grated between clenched teeth.

“Now ya wanna talk. Little late for that.”

You had been unsuccessful at your attempt to escape, the man in the hat jerking you up by the back of your shirt before he spun you around, forcing you to face him.

You were shocked at his countenance up close. Never before had you been this near to a ghoul, always making it a top priority to stay far from their kind. Maybe it was out of fear of them going feral, or the fact you did not wish to witness what you might so easily become under the right circumstance, afraid to look this precursor to death in its eyes.

And yet, this man teetering on the verge of decomposition, somewhere between a warm body and a rotting corpse, wasn't so far gone that you couldn’t make out his humanity, however twisted, lingering somewhere inside those expressive viewports to his soul.

“It’s never too late,” you replied, unable to curtail that part of you that was rebellious, “only if you say it is.”

“And I do have the upper hand,” the merc reminded you, wrapping the loose end of the rope left hanging succinctly around your wrists. He resorted to bundling the surfeit in a double knot; there was no way you were breaking out.

You bared your teeth like a wild hound as you struggled helplessly. The bounty hunter admired the tenacity by which you had held your own, the fact that you were quarrelsome, not so ready to give in. He patted your cheek like he would man's best friend; if you were going to behave like an animal, he was going to treat you like one.

“It’s a long way back to Reddin’. You may as well quit while you’re ahead—otherwise, this whole situation is liable to be unpleasant, more than it already is.”

“Five hundred caps,” you blurted out, staring at him squarely, suppressing all your innate instincts, the only things left to you that seemed like a logical response. Instead, you would assay to reason with him—he wasn’t feral … yet.

The Ghoul searched your face. He must have found something there he favored. You produced in him a small inclination of his neck, as if he might be debating your proposition.

Then, he smiled. “Your maw’s paying me a thousand,” he said in that aloof, forbearing drawl.

“Fine, two thousand,” you returned, standing up straight, though the man towered. You found your heart was pounding, but not for the reasons you had first assumed.

He eyed you then, glancing down toward your chest, studying the way it rose and fell with every trembling breath. His gaze would travel back up, the Ghoul noticing the fast, rhythmic beat of your pulse point standing out from the smooth column of your throat. Your blood pressure was elevated. You reminded him of a mouse caught in a snare.

“And just where’re keepin’ ‘em?” he asked, one hand encased in a thick leather glove patting you down, starting at your hip and working its way below your belt line, groping at the meat of your thigh. “Don’t assume you have two thousand caps just hidin’ in your underoos. Figure I would have noticed.”

Your breath caught; you could not think straight. He continued until he had reached your ankles. You were tempted to knee him in the face, but you knew you wouldn’t get far—not like this. You withheld, knowing that to make a deal might be your only chance.

“Is that the best excuse you have for touching me?” you shot back, defiant.

By this time, the Ghoul had stood back up to his tall stature. He reached for your waist, planning to grope there, too. You cursed yourself for wanting it, staring back once more into his deceptive, deep brown eyes, flecked with hints of blue.

“Can never be too careful. One, you may be packin’ somethin’ else, though I’d be sure you’d try to use it by this point. Two, don’t think bein’ a gentleman is part of my reputation around these parts, and I ain’t above doin’ what needs to be done to ensure I survive—not that you’re much of a threat.”

That riled you up. Maybe that was the point. You bucked against him, once more endeavoring to loosen your restraints. “Fuck you.”

His cocky grin returned, the Ghoul snatching you up by the point of your chin. “Now, you already said that once already. I ain’t too sure that thought didn’t cross your mind. Bein’ alive this long, somethin’ I’ve learned is how to assess my surroundings—and that includes a person’s body language.”

You shot daggers from your eyes, but a thought occurred to you. As far as ensuring your own survival, you weren’t above doing what needed to be done, either. “Would you let me go if…”

“Look at that, already makin’ suggestions, not botherin’ to refute my claim, but willin’ to bang a ghoul. Suppose there ain’t much a person wouldn’t do these days to get ahead.”

“As if you haven’t done worse things,” you snapped.

“Never said I hadn’t,” the Ghoul squeezed either side of your face before letting go to come around behind you. You stiffened, unsure of his next set of moves.

“But that ain’t one of ‘em. Killin’ ya? Now, that’s fair game, but takin’ advantage of a woman is somethin’ altogether different, and that ain’t a game I like to play,” he purred into your ear.

“The offer’s on the table,” you seethed, giving him your own nasty smirk from over the peak of your shoulder, “got some Rad-X in my jacket—better make it count.”

The Ghoul turned his head to spit in the sand, as if your words had left a bad taste in his mouth. He traipsed back around toward your front, giving you a look that equated offense, combined with a full-on sneer.

“You couldn’t handle me, little rabbit. I’d break you like a twig.” He couldn’t help himself, taunting you further, “’course maybe that’s what you want; somebody oughta bring you down a peg or two, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be your momma.”

“I bet you couldn’t even make me cum, you fucking prick,” you snarked back, your words accompanied by the jarring sound of your laughter. It echoed across the dunes, continuing long after you had stopped. It set the Ghoul’s blood to boiling, as his fuse was short. Disrespect wasn’t something he often tolerated, even when the subject matter was figurative at best.

Time to give you a healthy dose of stark reality.

The Ghoul whipped you around, not being courteous to the likes of your wounded arm. You screamed in protest, but he simply pressed the flat of his boot against the round of your ass, pushing you forward toward town, or what was left of it.

“What are you doing?” You stumbled over your own two feet, even as the bastard jabbed his gun against the small of your back.

“Acceptin’ your challenge, rabbit.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He was silent as he marched you onward, forcing you to enter the skeletal remains of some poor soul’s squalid dream house. Once inside, he took hold of your bindings, twirling you back around to face him as he pinned you firmly against what was left of the kitchen table.

“What I wants the money,” he leered, “but why don’t you go ‘head,” the Ghoul dared, “tell me what it is you want.”

Your eyes widened as his gloved hand stretched out to palm the shape of your breast. “Freedom,” you interjected, even as your breath hitched in your throat; even as you made a little sound, a chirrup like that of a bird.

“You sure?”

The Ghoul’s hand traveled, releasing your tit to cup the flesh of your thigh. He gave it a pinch before it snuck downward, slipping up under your hamstring, coercing your groins to align with a crude jerk of his arm.

You gasped, so sudden was your closeness, staring down into the vacant pit of his nasal cavity before your eyes shot up, matching the intensity of his stare.

“Do we have a deal?”

“You gonna show me where you hid those caps?”

“You gonna fuck me, cowpoke?”

You felt something—movement inside the pocket of your jacket. The Ghoul located the Rad-X you had so brazenly rubbed in his face, then stuck two fingers straight into your mouth, forcing it wide open.

“You’re gonna need these,” he said, shoving the pills down your gullet, coaxing you to swallow by curling a knuckle against the base of your throat.

You nearly choked, gagging without water as the Ghoul grinned like a Cheshire cat, tourmaline eyes monitoring your reaction, enjoying this little moment right before he unhooked his holster, tossing his revolver down onto the ground.

“Asshole,” you hissed, coughing for good measure, trying to dislodge what felt like a rock trapped in the center of your esophagus.

“The name’s Coop,” the Ghoul jeered, “for when you need somethin’ to moan—won’t be long, kit.”

You assumed “Coop” was short for Cooper. You laughed, mocking the merc before you—he’d walked right into this one, and you weren’t about to let the chance slip by. “Won’t be long? Just like every other man,” you japed.

The Ghoul growled; it quieted you down substantially, finding yourself twisting under his hold as he raked into your hair. He bit into the glove of his opposite hand with blunt, stained teeth, spitting it out to join his holster on the ground.

“Now I think I understand,” he remarked, his temperament having changed, his disposition one of muted animosity as he strained to keep his cool, “all ya are’s a brat, and I know how to deal with brats.”

You felt a pinch at your waist, a tug. The Ghoul pulled at your zipper, shoving one hand down your newly unbuttoned pants. At the same time, he lifted your ass up onto the table with the strength of his bicep; you wriggled atop its surface, trying to scootch back out of range. He’d drag you back by clawing into your jeans, compelling you to remain eye to eye.  

“Where you going, darlin’? Fun’s just gettin’ started.”

It was as if time stood still, the Ghoul’s desiccated fingers finding the protuberance of glands nestled between the folds of your labia. You meant to fight back—to kick, to punch if you could, though your arms were bound—but all you managed was to melt into his touch.

“Shit,” you whispered, as you so readily succumbed, not wanting to admit to yourself you found him anything but ugly. Instead, you angled your hips as he dipped one digit inside you, his rough thumb already swirling circles as he watched you quiver, the Ghoul’s mouth halfway parted in silent ridicule.

Then, he had to go and ruin it by talking.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You gasped as he curled his finger inside you, slipping in one extra after the fact, pressing the two together against the anterior wall of your sex. He knew exactly where to aim, sending sparks out from your belly toward your already slick loins. You moaned despite yourself, leaning forward to better meet his reach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had an itch to scratch long before my time—maybe that’s why you’re so foolhardy.”

“Just shut up,” you fumed, rocking in time to the pace of his rhythm; the Ghoul slid right out of you with a wet schlurp, raising his hand to spread apart the sticky sheen that clung between his fore and middle finger, licking it clean with a swipe of his tongue.

You were agog with morbid fascination, yet pissed as fuck he had stopped when you felt something building up deep inside you, wanting to cum though you would have to deal with the repercussions—the fact he would never let you live it down.

“Now, that ain’t no way to talk kindly to your elders,” the Ghoul said with a mischievous lilt. “Manners’ll get you a lot further than you might think, ‘course I don’t expect much from your generation. You all ain’t right in the head.”

You snapped your teeth, nipping thin air, purposely aiming for the spot his nose would have been, had it not long ago completely rotted off. Coop snagged you by the jaw, giving your face a good and irritating shake.

“Remember, you asked for this, little rabbit.”

You heard the rustling of fabric, a shuck. The Ghoul used both hands to clasp you around the hips, having finally taken the time to discard his other glove.

“Come on, then,” you dared, ignoring the pain in your arm. The flow of blood had waned to a trickle; you would live. In reality, you wanted to touch him, grope him, feel him, but you doubted the Ghoul would bother to untie you to entertain your fantasies.

Coop had his cock at the ready; it was hard and girthy but not malformed. Yet his foreskin was as mutated by the radiation as much as the rest of him, though it did not frighten you. “You’re on my schedule, so you best just hold your horses. The more fuss you make about it, the less inclined I am to indulge you, hear that?”

Then, he smiled an infuriating smile, “and now we both know just how bad off ya are.”

Whether or not you were impatient was beside the point; the man was maddening. You cinched your legs around his waist and pulled him close, the Ghoul making a show out of holding onto his hat.

“Giddyup,” you demanded, sneering.

That did it; something clicked in the Ghoul’s brain to where he lifted you up off the table by your collar. He didn’t say a word as he roughly spun you around, pressing his palm into the curve of your lower back, pressuring you to bend over.

A solid, hard slap to your ass caused you to yelp, followed by the bastard yanking down the seat of your pants. You struggled for air as you felt the Ghoul’s cock spread you wide open, burying itself up to its hilt inside the soft, squishy confines of your cunt.

“Cooper,” you breathed, inhaling and exhaling more rapidly. You dug your nails into your palms as your cheek was slammed straight down onto the table, the Ghoul holding you resolutely by the head. He steadily pumped into you, rolling his hips hard with every thrust.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Coop needled, picking up the pace, gaining momentum so as to increase friction, determined to fuck the fire right out of you if he accomplished nothing else. Hell, he hadn’t even warned you. He’d figured there’s no need. You had been rarin’ and ready from the get-go; you just needed a little in the way of “foreplay” to loosen you up.

However, you could not deny the stretch; the feeling of fullness; the tingle that traveled from the cusp of your navel all the way down to the throb between your legs, the Ghoul’s long, deep strokes knocking against your erogenous zone with such precision you doubted you would last for long.

“Stop-don’t—don’t stop,” you whispered, unable to elevate the sound of your voice, every drive of his cock into you stealing more of your breath away. He was kind enough to let up off your face after he was sure he had you secured, nowhere for you to go between his dick and the table.

The Ghoul snickered as he dredged you backward, over and over, using the flesh around your middle as handlebars, balls flouncing against the underside of your mound. Then, he reached one arm around, gripping you by the chin; he toyed with you, running his bare thumb across your bottom lip, skimming your teeth.

“Didn’t figure I would.”

You gave a little huff, twisting your wrists against your bindings; the Ghoul glanced down and chuckled, “just gonna have to make-do.”

You pushed backward in response, your ass cheeks flush against his thighs. You brought a gasp to your own lips, feeling a tiny flare of pain as his cock nearly brushed against your cervix.

“Not fair,” you complained,” can’t touch you, kiss you,” you said, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to. Your fingers waggled arbitrarily behind you as you floundered in reaching for him, though the Ghoul slowly slipped his arm down, trailing your breasts, stopping to cop a feel.

“No,” he agreed, “but I sure as hell can.”

You rattled out another disjointed moan, Coop’s fingers tweaking your nipple before his hand vanished back between your legs. It slid past your waist and belly, skirting your thighs, before he grazed your clit, rubbing a pattern as he let up a little, deciding to make you ride it out nice and slow.

“Just like that,” you crooned for him, arching your back, lifting your lumbar region higher the best you could at this angle, nearly slipping when Cooper kicked your feet farther apart with his boot. His free arm scooped you up around your waist in a viselike hold, stringent and rough.

He switched his thumb for his trigger finger, aided by his middle, rotating them together in unison against sensitive nerve-endings, causing you to expel a filthy, debasing sound.

The Ghoul chuckled like a deviant into your hair, his lips pressed firmly to your scalp.

“Coo-Coop—” You bit down on your tongue, the Ghoul’s grip tightening around you, pulling you backward in a poor imitation of a hug. His own teeth bore down on his lower lip, his balls continuing to slap your undercarriage as he was close to blowing his load.

The head of Coop’s prick kept diligently massaging your G-spot, the pressure inside you tantamount to a wellspring of indescribable pleasure, never in your life thinking you’d lock hips with a Ghoul.

“’Bout to make good on that bet, ain’t I?” your captor purred into your ear, whirling those fingers, all the while jouncing into and off of your haunches. Your cunt was slick and saturated in your own wetness; you were so close you could practically taste it.

“Coop! Cooper!” you yelled, the Ghoul keeping his same tempo, only increasing his speed when you called out his name good and proper.

“There’s a good girl, wha’d I tell yo—”

“—No, Coop! Ferals!” you screeched.

Out from a backroom, drawn in by the smell of sex; the clamoring of voices—two shuffling, putrid rovers wearing rags had puttered onto the scene—you getting fucked by one of their ilk as they failed to react for a hairbreadth of a second, your Ghoul ripping his hand up and off you to stretch his arm out across his back.

Strapped to his shoulder was the sawed-off vintage shotgun he always carried—backup, as it were. The Ghoul broke it free of its straps, even as he kept driving it home.

You couldn’t believe it, watching in horror as you were being pushed toward the edge of an orgasm, the sounds that ferals made, with their fried vocal cords, something that would haunt you in your dreams until you made it to your deathbed. They were only a few feet away, coming in from outside, a hole in the wall plenty of room for a body, human or otherwise, to squeeze right through.

“You weren’t invited to this party.” The Ghoul took aim and fired just as you started to cum, the echoes of your lust filling the room as blood, brain, and viscera splattered radially, adding a bit of color to otherwise drab walls.

“Fuck, shit, shit!” you intoned, unable to hold off, even as the second ghoul rasped its anger, its quick, herky movements sending itself in your direction.

With Coop balls deep in your cunt and your hands tied, you were at the mercy of whatever happened next. Luckily, your mother’s hired gun was as good as she’d hoped, sending the other roamer sprawling as your gummy walls tightened, coaxing him to bust his nut.

The Ghoul released his load at the same time he fired off the last of his slugs, unable to control himself, the flex of your cunt so snug, it syphoned out every last drop. He had let go of his concentration once his job was done, spraying down your insides with his infertile sperm.

You both took a breather, Coop lying against your back as you went limp against the table, afraid to let your guard down for if any other ferals decided to show up. He had already tossed the gun, needing a moment to recuperate, assuming you were both in the clear.

You stood there, feeling something warm oozing out of you, then Coop slid lazily down onto his knees, pushing your legs apart wider. You sucked in a breath at the feel of his tongue, the Ghoul endeavoring to eat you out from behind.

You couldn’t keep from trembling, your knees nearly buckling, the Ghoul swallowing his own spunk as he licked a line all the way from your entrance to between your folds, teasing your clit, showing you no quarter.

You made your lewdest sound yet as he sucked your little bud between his lips, the feeling too intense so soon, but that wouldn’t stop him from having his way with you.

Both his hands found your ass cheeks, spreading them for ease of access, the Ghoul’s tongue disappearing somewhere inside your pretty puss. Your whole body stiffened before it relaxed, doing everything in your power not to just fall down flat on top of his face.

It seemed he had already entertained that same idea, for better or worse, the ghoul snatching you around your waist, this time with both arms. He laid back as you came crashing down, having physically coerced you to sit right on his mean, smug mug.

The Ghoul chortled darkly as you struggled to push up and off him, your buttocks smashed up against his forehead while he dined. That snaking, warm organ slipped in and out of you until it found your clit again, paying special attention to that part of you in particular, lapping at it like he would a pre-war ice cream cone.

“Cooper!” you breathed. The man tensed until he realized, this time, his name was an exclamation of you being wholly satisfied. He did not stop, not until you were a convulsing, heaping mess, the only thing you were disappointed with, the fact he didn’t have a nose to hump.

Your wriggling seemed to have tickled some part of his gray matter, not wanting to let go until he had nearly licked you dry was it not for his own saliva. You were panting; exhausted; nothing but a pile of useless flesh and bones by the time he shoved you off, persuading you to roll over onto your back.

You suddenly found yourself to be staring up at a dark sky—the house you occupied barely had a roof left to it.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, intaking large lungful’s of oxygen, trying to regain your equilibrium while you stayed put on the cold, hard ground.

The Ghoul laughed then, straight from his belly, wiping his mouth off on his coat sleeve before both his arms stretched out to either side of his prone form.

“A good time.”

After a few minutes, Coop seemed to come back to himself, fiddling with his junk to stuff himself back inside his trousers. He turned his head to look at you, the joviality having left his voice; he took on a more serious demeanor and tone when he spoke next.

“Now, where were we?”

---

Coop had been decent enough to help you up. He’d even shimmied your pants back around your hips and waist, staring at you like an overconfident ass as he’d fastened the button, but you refused to say a word.

He knew you’d enjoyed yourself, there was no denying it—but now came the hard part. What you didn’t realize, was the deal had been more or less muddled from the start.

“So, I tell you where the caps are and I’m free to go, right?”

The Ghoul was quiet as he surveyed the million granules of sand that lay in all directions, the desert night lit up by thousands of glittering stars. It was pretty like this, he thought. Not a cloud in the sky.

“Stars sure are pretty, aren’t they?” He paused, as if collecting himself. “You know, people used to use stars to navigate, before road maps and compasses. They identified patterns and movements in what they called our ‘celestial sphere.’ Lost art, I reckon. Found their way to all kinds of places; one in particular always stays true north—Polaris’ the name.”

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes gleaming from underneath the wide brim of his hat.

“And just where are those caps?” he asked, not bothering to answer your question, but instead presenting one of his own, waiting patiently to see just how well-behaved you might wind up now that you’d been laid.

“Not too far from here, buried,” you said, “just outside New Reno about a mile or two, at a homestead with a barn out back.”

“Now, that sounds out of the way to me. Reno’s to the east. We need to be going north—can follow that star I told ya about—and we got a long way to go, thanks to you.”

“Wait, what?” you argued, jerking once more against the rope that bound you, against Coop’s hand that had a hold of your restraints, the Ghoul giving you a cold, crooked smile. He had forced you out here after you’d been made decent, quoting he knew a safe place to hunker down, just up the road, “if you were interested.”

“You’re comin’ with me, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you ain’t tryin’ to play no double-cross—if we’re going for those caps—otherwise, your momma’s out there waitin’ back in Reddin’.”

“But I thought we had a deal!”

“Need collateral—you’re it, rabbit.”

“I swear, they’re there. I’m not a liar!”

“Didn’t peg you for one, but like I said before—can never be too careful.”

You glared at him in disbelief, watching as the Ghoul removed an inhaler from out of his coat pocket. He took a hit of whatever drug, then stepped around to loosen the bit of rope that he had wound about your wrists. Once he had a bit of the excess, he circled back around, wrenching you forward this time, as if you were caught on a leash—a short one at that.

“Hey! I can walk!”

“Best get started, then,” he mused.

“Why?” you demanded, your temper flaring up again, the heat of your blood coloring your cheeks as you flashed your teeth in a snarl. “Why go to all that trouble?! Why lead me on, why fuck me, if you weren’t going to hold up your part of the bargain?”

“Never made a bargain, if you think about it.”

“Then what?” you asked flippantly, staring him down with the most wicked glare that you could muster.

The Ghoul gave you a sidelong glance, arrogant as ever, adjusting his hat so that it fit snug against his skull.

“That’s what they call ‘gettin’ sidetracked’.”

---

Fallout Masterlist

[cartierre]

SUGAR COOKIE | cs55

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU carlos sainz x fem!japanese!reader (fc: minatozaki sana)

side note: there's no real plot except the whole world simping for y/n.

♡ liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 189,837 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername miami so far 💛🧡🩵

view all 1,737 comments

user1 i am deeply obsessed with y/n ⤷ user2 ong

user3 every time i see a post of y/n on my time line my day automatically becomes so much better

carlossainz55 mi rayo de sol (my sunshine) ⤷ yourusername 🌞🌞

user4 she is the it-wag

user5 i cannot believe i'm able to live at a time where y/n exists

♡ liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 311,031 others

tagged: yourusername

graff Graff is delighted to announce its partnership with Y/N Y/L/N as its very first brand ambassador in Japan. Graff is synonymous with unrivalled artistry and striking design and is thrilled to partner with Y/N, whose passion and creative fearlessness is showcased in her flawless appearance.

view all 3,827 comments

user6 i'm so broke i had to google wtf graff is just now

user7 "flawless appearance" SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

yourusername so grateful and honoured to be able to partner up with an incredible brand such as graff! feels like a dream come true! comment liked by graff

user8 is this like y/n merchandise but for the mega rich

user9 y/n in her model era is so iconic ⤷ user10 she deserves all the brand deals fr

♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 673,912 others

tagged: yourusername

carlossainz55 a little break in between races

view all 2,354 comments

user11 they're so adorable i wanna throw up and bash my head against the wall

user12 y/n being shy and all blushy has me feeling some type of ways

yourusername i told you not to post that picture! ⤷ carlossainz55 what do you mean this is my new favourite picture of you ⤷ carlossainz55 you look lovely as ever

user13 i'm melting by how cute carlos and y/n are together

user14 if they ever break up with each other i'll have to call the police ⤷ user15 i will not become a child of divorce again

♡ liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo, landonorris and 201,936 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername summer break! 💐

view all 1,938 comments

user16 i think i'm getting diabetes from how cute you two are ⤷ user17 so real honestly

user18 i need to call my therapist because y'all make me feel a bit too single for my liking

carlossainz55 te amo (i love you) my sugar cookie ⤷ yourusername mi amor 🫶🏻 (my love)

user19 no stop i hate it here but also never ever think about breaking up ⤷ user20 carlos isn't that stupid to let someone like y/n just go

[crush-itis]

⊹︵♥﹕ crush-itis ．🎀 ﹒( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)

⤷ twst x gn!reader

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

⋆୨୧˚. tags ： sfw, fluff, Valentine’s Day special, hcs

⋆୨୧˚. a/n ： Hi, guys! It took me so long to make the typographies! (It’s nf2u.) It turned out so cute! I hope you guys like it too ^ - ^ it was so fun making the logos, I’ll probably be planning to make more in the future for my tumblr posts! Hope you guys like the hcs too <3 bro, when I started writing the Octavinelle student’s hcs, I was getting so dizzy, and sick of writing, so I’m sorry if most of the hcs sound rushed, or inaccurate 😓😓

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Riddle Rosehearts

♥︎： He’s both excited, and stressed for this particular holiday. He’d ask Trey, and Chen’ya for advice, sending them pictures—in the gc—of the flowers in the bouquet display. He’s even stressing about what shade of colour for the lace he’ll wrap the bouquet with. He’s just meticulous, and careful when it comes to gift giving. Dawg, he’s even standing in the cardstock aisle for an hour, “eeny, meeny, miny, moeing” these two Valentine’s Day cards. He ended up making his own card for you, bedazzling the love letter with pretty, red stationery, and cursive fonts.

Trey Clover

♥︎： This is his time of the month. He baked five different flavoured cookies for you, twenty pieces of heart-shaped chocolates, three lunchbox cakes, six tarts… okay, he just has the particular talent for baking, and cooking. Bro, even your bouquet is edible, and it tastes really amazing. When he gives you that basket stashed with pastries, and a lovely card, he’ll insist on feeding you each one of the sweets. He’d even intentionally wipe the cake’s frosting onto the corner of your lips, so that he could lick it off or something. He’s so cheesy.

Cater Diamond

♥︎： He is amazing in crafting, bro. He will make you these satin lace, “everlasting flowers”, sprinkle them in glitter, wrap the bouquet with pretty packaging, AND spray your favourite fragrance on them. He’d also take a million selfies with you, then post them all in his Magicam. The captions are just him boasting of how cute, and adorable his s/o is.

Ace Trappola

♥︎： He’s working part-time for Mc Donalds which is actually really surprising for him because he’s lazy asf. But when he saved up to at least 200+ madols, he instantly quit. Okay, he only started working last week because he needed money to buy you Valentine's Day gifts. He bought you cheap chocolate bars, this expensive Pandora necklace that he used up almost all of his money with, this cheap perfume, these roses he secretly plucked off from the Heartslabyul garden, and stuffed them all into a birthday bag he recycled from 2017. Kiss him please, he really worked hard in McDonalds to get you gifts.

Deuce Spade

♥︎： “Mom, what did dad give you in Valentine’s Day when you were in high school?” Bro is asking his mom for advice. He also has enough pocket money he saved up to buy all sorts of nice things. He’s got you Ferrero Rocher chocolates, a nice bouquet of flowers, a Build-A-Bear stuffed animal, a card he made, and of course, he even took you out on a date in the boba restaurant nearby NRC. He is damn awkward, though.

Leona Kingscholar

♥︎： He went all out. Lil bro bought you Graff, Tiffany & Co, Prada… he literally took you out on a shopping date, giving you his black card for the day. He loves to spoil, and pamper his partner. Let him shower you with gifts, it’s one of his love languages apart from physical touch or something.

Ruggie Bucchi

♥︎： He is broke, but he is creative. He made this really cute pop up card for you, folded these sticky notes into paper flowers, and bro even went to the woods to make a wildflower bouquet for you, and it actually looks cute. He even went to give up his childhood stuffed animal for you—it’s a plush hyena with a cute felt crown on its head. He practically went all out for you, and for this sweet occasion.

Jack Howl

♥︎： He bought you a cactus instead of a bouquet, and wrapped the pot with a ribbon—he even took the time to learn how to embroider to embroider your name on it, bro. He also bought you this cozy cardigan, and the usual box of chocolates. He wants to make this day special between you two, so he took you out on a simple date to go watch the sunset.

Azul Ashengrotto

♥︎： He took you out on the lamest, but cutest date in Mostro Lounge. He even planned with the twins to make up a special menu for you—full of all your favourite foods. Then after your date to Mostro Lounge, he takes you to the ocean, under the sea. He rented this little submarine, and showed you all the sea creatures, informing you who is who, and which is which. It’s like a free aquarium date. He even plucked this cute pearl for you from this unwilling, water mussel.

Jade Leech

♥︎： He made you the cutest seashell necklace ever. It’s even beaded with these glowing jewels he apparently found under the sea. And, of course, he also bought you the usual Valentine’s Day gifts, and he even got you the Sheldon Shrimp Jellycat. Man, he’s extra teasing, and possessive today too.

Floyd Leech

♥︎： He is unfamiliar with how the holiday works because merfolk didn’t celebrate such things, but he understood that it’s a little occasion that involves a bit of gift giving… so that’s what he does! He gave you raw fish wrapped in a bow, and he wants to kiss you in the VIP room in Mostro Lounge.

Kalim Al-Asim

♥︎： He done did booked a trip to the Bahamas with you. He even threw a party for you. He invited all his family, and, of course, his best friend, Jamil. He bought you all sorts of expensive things, heck, he even let you borrow his black card like Leona. Let him spoil you because he loves seeing you in flashy jewelry, and high-quality fabric clothes.

Jamil Viper

♥︎： He took you out to a lavish restaurant for a date, then surprised you with the prettiest bouquet of flowers. He is especially handsome too (well, he’s always handsome), and he even got dressed into his fancy suit. He wants to look real nice for you, alright? He’s not really one for flirting, but he’ll try. He started off with subtly brushing a hand against yours on the table.

Vil Schoenheit

♥︎： He featured you in the magazine businesses he owns as if it was the most casual thing ever. It’s Valentine’s Day, so he wanted you to be the star of today’s holiday. He did your skincare, your makeup, your hair, and even had your clothes custom made by a famous tailor. He’s watching you behind the scenes as you’re posing in a cupid-themed set, smiling softly at you. Then he will eat you out later that night in his dorm.

Rook Hunt

♥︎： It’s midnight, and 12:00 am strikes on everyone’s clock. It’s finally Valentine’s Day, and you’re suddenly awakened from the sound of your bedside window opening. Zaddy alpha is coming out of your window with the sweetest smile ever, and he’s holding a bouquet of fresh roses, a box of chocolates, a love letter with an ode written about you in it, and he smells like he just bathed in a body of cologne. He will also eat you out in your dorm tonight.

Epel Felmier

♥︎： He carved you the cutest apples ever, and made you his special candy apples. He sewed up a cute stuffed animal for you, the buttons for its eyes all wonky, and unsymmetrical. He’s also trying to be very manly today too, but failed miserably. Anyway, forgive him, because at least he was brazen enough to kiss you during your sunset gazing date.

Idia Shroud

♥︎： He was ecstatic when you agreed to going on a date with him. When he arrived at the little café you two agreed to go to, you notice that his hair (fire) is, like, a gradient of pink, and red. He is redder than when Riddle gets red. He is awkward, quivering, and dying internally. He bought you this cute necklace, but he is too much of a wimp to go and give it to you along with his other gifts. He’s twiddling with his fingers while stammering, and stuttering to you the whole time. He’s even hiding his face with his menu. Kiss him

Malleus Draconia

♥︎： He took you out to Briar Valley—the Country of Thorns. He showed you all sorts of cool places downtown, then decided you two would have your little date in this empty botanical garden. It’s getting late, and the stars are now glittering in the darkened sky. He’s showing you which constellations are which while holding your hand.

Lilia Vanrouge

♥︎： He had also taken you out to Briar Valley. He took you to the most romantic date ever to this treehouse-coffeehouse. He slipped you a bag stuffed with a box of chocolates, a stuffed animal with his cologne sprayed on it, a card, and a bouquet of your favourite flowers—on the table. Man, he is so flirty too. He’s cooing at how pretty, and cute you are, giving you all sorts of pet names. Then, of course, he’d book a love hotel for the two of you after. Guess what you will two do in the hotel

Silver

♥︎： Nap date. He set up this nice picnic blanket on the fluffy grass—under the oak tree of some nice field near NRC—two pillows, one for you, and one for him. A thick, fuzzy blanket for you both to share, and of course, his gifts for you are next to your little sleeping area. He baked you hearty biscuits with jam filling, wrapped you a nice bouquet of flowers that he put an everlasting spell on, and a card he wrote with “Zzz” written in bolded letters. If you looked closely, you could spot the small heart next to the Z’s.

Sebek Zigvolt

♥︎： He was stressing just like Riddle. Before Valentine’s Day, he was constantly blabbering into Lilia’s ears “what should I get them? What should I get them?” He was pacing around the mall, even asking Sam in his shop what’s the ideal Valentine’s gift. Sam suggested he’d buy this teddy bear—a cursed one—Sebek decided to trust him, so now, you’re hand in hand with him, and he’s yelling about his love for you. He’ll give your gift with the biggest grin ever, sliding the heart patterned bag to your hands, and you were met with a cursed stuffed animal, box of chocolates, and a handwritten letter, sealed with a heart-shaped sticker.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

𑄽୧ ׅ ׅ 𝒯hank 𝒴ou !!

[whumblr]

Dead of night

Crossed out - Continued from ch.10 - Prologue

-

With a heavy-handed sigh, Lucas slid into an open seat at the long breakfast table among his ‘work’ buddies and deposited his tray with a disgusted glance.

“Beatings continue until the morale improves,” he muttered and dragged a spoon through the slob they called porridge, “but the food here continually destroys any bit of morale you build up…”

The man next to him, Trey, guffawed softly into his sludge. When he made eye contact he quickly glanced away again, but with a soft smile.

“You’re finally starting to get it, newbie.”

“Finally being the key word here,” the man across from them spoke up. When Lucas looked at him in question he didn’t look up, just kept his head down and continued: “Nero says you’re a fast learner. I say you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Hey, I watch and learn,” Lucas countered a little offended, recalling Marcus’ words.

“Sure, that’s why you got that black eye.”

“And you were limping back to your cell last night.”

“Learn faster.”

“He’s gonna learn sooner or later that everyone here calls him ‘that new dumb fuck’.

Lucas huffed, but with a smile. It’s not like he could counter that. His intelligence wasn’t really the problem here; more the fact that his stubbornness just kept overriding every logical decision he had to make here. And being stuck between a rock and a hard place didn’t really bring out his best decision making skills. Maybe he didn’t perform as well under stress as he had always thought. Or corporate stress was just a whole different beast.

He brought his fork up to his lips. Wasn’t porridge supposed to be at least somewhat liquid? They say chewing more will make you feel like you’re more full. But chewing on this… well, he hadn’t decided yet whether that was a crime or the punishment.

He swallowed the bite in one go. Pulled a face. “Do they sell snacks at the shop? I think I’m gonna need to be able to look forward to some good, overly sweetened processed food every now and then.”

“Wait ‘til lunch,” one of the guys said.

“Get your essentials first. Then snacks,” another said with some better advice.

“What are the essentials? I got my toothbrush and slippers…”

“Painkillers, in your case, seem essential.”

“They sell that here?!”

“Sure, just mild variants.”

Still, every little bit would help, Lucas thought. Would’ve been nice if he’d known about that earlier, but he wouldn’t have had money saved for it anyway. He still refused to visit the infirmary. It felt like admitting defeat, plugging up some of the cracks with aspirin.

“You got earplugs yet?” Trey asked.

“I don’t have a bunkmate so I don’t need it.”

The conversation halted and all the men glanced up at him, then looked around at each other, uncomfortable. Trey whispered, “It’s not for the snoring…”

“What?” Lucas looked up but they all avoided his gaze. “What then?”

“Speak for yourself, Trey,” one man said with forced laughter after the silence became too tense. “You try sleeping in the same cell as Lorenzo.”

“Actually, two cells down I can still hear Lorenzo.”

“Even with earplugs in.”

“Hey.”

The man across from him tried to steer the conversation away. “You’re so lucky you don’t have a roommate, though,” he said wistfully.

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around. With the speed this guy is turning Nero into his mortal enemy, I’d say we all are lucky not to have him as a roomie.”

Lucas, getting more and more confused with the breakneck speed they all danced around several subjects, piped up. “Why’s that?”

The conversation instantly gloomed again.

“You saw what happened to Graff,” Trey said softly, patiently.

“Yeah?”

“Nero employs something we call the buddy system. When you break one of the rules, Nero doesn’t just punish you, but your cellmate as well. It works well.”

After witnessing the unfair punishment of Graff, Lucas had suspected something like that, but to hear it said out loud… that just hit different. “I bet,” he said, a bitter undertone in his voice.

Right on cue, Nero marched into the cafeteria and Lucas found he couldn’t keep the bitterness in.

“Found another evildoer to punish,” he said a tad too loud as Nero stomped by, and he instantly regretted it.

Nero stopped dead in his tracks. Very slowly he turned towards him, straightening up as if daring him to repeat that and within a five yard radius, the conversations around him stilled. Nero shot him a glance that turned the gooey breakfast in his stomach to solid lead. “Why don’t we discuss this in my office tonight, Varga?” he said, no louder than necessary.

Fuck him and his big waffle… Nero kept staring at him, holding a steely eye contact until Lucas muttered a defeated “Yes, sir” and stared into his bowl. Then Nero stoically marched on.

The man across from him raised his eyebrows in a way that said both ‘yikes’ and ‘yeahh’ and he mouthed an exaggerated “Learn faster,” as he picked up his tray and stood.

That night, after fervently ‘discussing’ his outburst in the cafeteria, Nero spoke to the figure outstretched on the floor. “Now I was quite sure you were in the company of Georgiou at your first breakfast. Didn't he teach you anything?”

Lucas groaned, not recognising the name with Nero’s stupid tendency to call everyone by their last name. “Marcus?” He pushed himself onto his elbows and glared at Nero who barely nodded. “Yeah, he told me to keep my head down.”

“Shame you didn't listen to him.”

Normally, he’d accept the hidden implications behind those words and assumed the threat was for him. But after what he heard this morning, about Nero’s buddy system, a panic rose in him and his head shot up, eyes searching Nero’s to find out what he meant by that. “You’re not going after him for this? Right?”

“I won’t, Nero said, short. “Unlike you, Georgiou is a model prisoner. Just... join him for lunch a little more often. Maybe it will rub off on you.”

And Lucas knew they both severely doubted that.

Luckily, their ‘discussion’ that night was a short one and for once Lucas was allowed the dignity to walk back to his cell instead of limping or hurriedly wobbling across the halls to make curfew.

Relief still shot through his body when he could finally lie down on his cot, and he folded his hands behind his head, processing everything he heard today. He glanced at the other empty bed in the cell, indeed glad he didn’t have a bunkmate, but now for other reasons than just his privacy. If he had a bunkmate… well, he would’ve had a little more incentive to have kept his mouth shut this morning and at other times. Getting responsibility beaten into you for your own mistakes – rebellion – was one thing. Watching someone else get roughed up for your mistakes… that was a hard one. He could understand most in here kept to their own business.

The familiar evening ritual echoed through the cell block; buzzer, groaning iron, guards stepping past to check the cells, a tense silence for a few minutes that was broken by heavy footsteps and a single cell door opening. The warden was a busy man, Lucas thought bitterly. Apparently, keeping to your own business wasn’t as easy as it seemed. His cell wasn’t close enough to hear pleading, maybe there was just resigned silence, and the footsteps retreated.

A door slammed slut and Lucas turned over, able to sleep now that the ritual was over.

Only it wasn’t.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a scream pierced the silence.

Lucas shot right up in bed.

Though muffled and distant, and with him on the brink of sleep, he was certain he hadn’t imagined that and he lay very still, listening intently. He heard it again.

All hairs stood right on end, panic and a sense of immense wrongness seared through him. These weren’t the grunts and occasional scream that went with a beating. This was something else. Something very wrong.

It was desperate. Broken screams forced out, interrupted by something he couldn’t hear. Sobs. Crying, probably. Vowels of pain, interrupted by shorter vowels that indicated a pleading, cut off again by pain. Settling in a sickening rhythm, more broken with each repetition. He didn’t dare think about what in the world was happening there, not wanting to analyse these horrors. All he wanted was to shut it out.

Even the silence that followed was repulsive and did not comfort him in the slightest that it was over.

-

So as soon as he had scrambled enough petty cash through more hard labour, he immediately went to the prison shop.

“I’m guessing we don’t need to explain anymore?”

Trey stood behind him in line. He flashed a wry smile and nodded at the earbuds Lucas had bought.

Lucas stood aside and merely shook his head. The earbuds plus the dark bags under his eyes showed exactly what had kept him up these last couple of nights. Even when the nights following the incident had been quiet. He waited for Trey to finish his turn and watched in envy as he bought a Twix.

“You’ll want to be careful, though,” Trey warned, slipping the candy bar into his sleeve. “Not wanting to hear is good. But you also won’t hear him approach. He doesn’t care if he wakes people up, so the earbuds do help but… Well, let’s just say that it’s also not good for your blood pressure if you wake up with him already standing next to you.”

Good god, could you imagine… Literally waking up into a nightmare.

“I’ll be careful.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

[steffani-milligan]

I decided to create my own critters. Get to know these Neutral Critters. They are so called because they are in league with Smiling Critters and Nightmare Critters

Neutral Critters:

🍃 Graff 🍃

It's a Griffin

Male (He/His)

If someone gets injured, he immediately assumes the role of a doctor, as he is the leader of the Neutral Critters

He is in the same group as 🌈 - CraftyCorn and 💲- Simon Smoke, as he is a mythical creature

The scent of Chamomile relieves headaches, a feeling of heaviness in the back of the head, muscles, improves brain activity during mental fatigue, relieves irritation and calms outbursts of rage

🔒 Steffani QuiteFox🔒

It's a Fennec Fox

Female (She/Her)

At first glance, she may seem like an Introvert, but she hides Ambivert in herself, she just becomes insecure when she talks to someone with whom she is not very comfortable, but she is more sociable with friends

Steffani won't be able to start a conversation first, she needs someone to speak first, as she doesn't know what she's saying without knowing the other person's interests

She likes everything related to creativity and music.

She replaces the leader (🍃 - Graff) when he asks her.

Fun fact: She's friends with 🌩 - Poe, 💀 - Baba and 🌈 - CraftyCorn

The scent of Heliotrope has been compared to Vanilla and Cinnamon. It can cause feelings of relaxation, bliss and comfort, improves mood

🍀 Evan Canary 🍀

It's a Canary

Male (He/His) [He is male, but also transgender 🥲]

He belongs to the same group as ⭐ - Kickin and 🌩 - Poe because he is also a bird.

Evan's favorite activity is reading books, flying and exploring new places. Evan likes to fly fast when he feels more mischievous, but no one seemed to mind

The scent of Caramel has a positive effect on humans. It evokes nostalgia, happiness, and creates positive memories associated with pleasure, sweetness, and comfort. The scent of Caramel has a calming effect, gives warmth and relaxation

💤 Silly Sleepy 💤

It's a Koala

Female (She/Her)

She belongs to the same group as ☠️ - Allister and 🌙 - CatNap because he also likes to sleep well.

She also belongs to the same group as 🦷 - Maggie and 🍎 - Picky, because she is a Vegetarian, 🦷 - Maggie has a Sweet Tooth, and 🍎 - Picky eats Healthier Food (?)

❤ - Bobby is her best friend, and ☠️ - Alistair is just a friend.

Her favorite place to fall asleep is in the branches of trees

Scent of Sansevieria can promote fast falling asleep and quality sleep. It is also believed that Sansevieria purifies the indoor air, including from harmful substances and microbes

🙂 Clumsy Wolfy 🙂

It's a Wolf

Male (He/His)

He's one of those critters who gets injured a lot, but still enjoys life

🍃 - Graff is the one who usually treats him for another injury, which is why he often has to listen to his lectures about how Clumsy needs to be more careful next time.

Clumsy tries his best to make his friends laugh, starting with the usual grimacing faces and ending with some jokes.

☀ - DogDay is his best friend. (🐟 - Touille is also his friend)

Funny fact: In fact, he's neat, and he only uses his clumsiness for laughs. He likes to make himself look like a clown.

Coconut scent can evoke vivid memories of summer and the sun, helps fight irritability, helps to extinguish conflicts and relieves tension.

❔ Heidi Hidemeleon ❔

It's a Chameleon

Male (He/His)

He's friends with ☣️ - Icky, ⭐ - Kickin, ⚡ - Hoppy and 🩸 - Rabie

This dude gets bored VERY often and sometimes he even gets annoyed because of it, but he doesn't show it to others.

He's gay, but he keeps it a secret from everyone else TvT

By nature, he is indecisive when he meets someone new or when he is given a choice

The scent of Eucalyptus adjusts a person to a working mood, improves mood, fights stress and fatigue. Eucalyptus scent helps to clarify the mind, improve logical thinking and concentrate, which is especially useful for intellectuals, scientists, chess players, mathematicians and physicists.

✨ FashiMoth ✨

It's a Moth

Bigender (He/His/They/Them) [They feel more like the male]

Some critters used to confuse it with a butterfly

This is the second critter that has eyelashes. The first one was 💲- Simon

They are one of those who are happy to listen to some gossip while they are doing their job (manicure, clothes, etc.), but he keeps all this information in his head.

Scent of Peonies promotes relaxation, relieves stress and anxiety, improves mood, creates a romantic atmosphere and increases concentration.

Fact: The inspiration was taken from Glisten from Dandy World

🎶 Kate WeaselSing 🎶

It's a Weasel

Female (She/Her)

Her best friend is 🩸 - Rabie

She has a rather melodious and pleasant voice

Her mood can change very quickly when she feels that something is wrong

She can be different in nature, sometimes gentle and affectionate, sometimes playful and energetic, none of the Neutral Critters knows what kind of mood Kate will be in the next day.

She is a music lover and enjoys the Japanese music genre.

Scent Mojito charges with cheerfulness and energy, I want to have fun and enjoy life. There is also an opinion that scent Mojito can receive support, protection, inspiration, strengthen its strengths, and immerse itself in dreams.

I do not know what else can be written, so I'll leave it at that for now

[grimmz-dottr]

I am loath to put my opinions out there to get hated on for, but I gotta get my thoughts down in words on Stardust Rhapsody

I wanna preface this by saying that I'm usually a 'let the chips/cards fall where they may' kind of person and I'll continue to watch, and I'm excited to see where this goes, but first I can be a lil disappointed in how things happened.

I'm so sad that chuckles is now reduced to just the "more marketable" 'choockles choockles warcrimes' version of him that haunts Gideon in OUAW, when he's so much more, and we were just getting the beginnings of some of his backstory when they blew right past it for the sake of where the story was headed.

Like trans-dwightschrute said, Mikey IS capable of playing things more serious and being tactful with his comedy in times of heavy emotion. I understand why Rett reacted the way he did but chuckles is a discordiant of JOY, it's not something that he can just STOP doing. If Dandy were there maybe she would have pointed that out, but she was gone.

And if Derek and Mikey loved the characters so much then why not give them a proper send off? Have solo epilogue scenes where it's just one of them at a time at the table alone with Mace.

Leboosh goes and puts Kavir to rest on his home planet, sees Kavir's family, and maybe gets contacted by the Spider guy, or learns about someone who happens to have a lead on how he can cleanse or control his corruption.

Let Chuckles go back into the Honk Weave and encounter Jolly again, or have him find another type of Discordiant planetoid, or meet another drifting alone and wandering like him, and give him even more hints at these memories that he's missing.

Give us something to chew on if you're going to shelf these characters- for very valid reasons- that you and your audience grew to love. I do agree that things got too big too fast, and something needed to be done to scale it way back down.

Like we could've had it all. Have Rett assemble a new crew, if they wanted to play new characters. Have him find out what happened to Graff, dead or alive, or taken by the empire as well.

Have Rett and his new crew (can include a throwaway character for Andy who dies or has a 'I'll hold them off' moment before they get to Pyke) plan a heist/jailbreak for Pyke and maybe a solo scene with Pyke, and maybe a fellow inmate or a few (played by the rest of the players) planning their own escape that's happening at the same time as Rett's crew is infiltrating the prison. That would've been so fun and has potential to go awry setting them up for a bounty that they have to take in order to set everything square if they get caught.

I understand that the characters they were left with no longer worked together and they needed to go separate ways. They had enough time to think about who Rett and Pyke were, since they decided to stick with those two. They had time to plan out characters for Derek and Mikey that could work with the other characters, or at least have interesting but not too derailing conflicts that they can figure out as they play.

All that being said, I did enjoy the episodes. The betrayal and PvP, and the reveal of Mikey playing the big boss in a 2/3 V 1 boss battle when things were already in dire straits had me on the edge of my seat wondering what the hell was happening.

I already love the new character Ziggy. His frantic disposition kind of reminds me of Caprice, but that could've just been the panic of the situation he was in, and he'll probably mellow out.

I'm kind of confused about something, but I may be misremembering or missed something being explained because I was having a hard time focusing because I was so tired when it was airing. And I came back to it the next day where I left off due to a power outage and needing sleep, but I don't think it was explained.

When Glup did like a scan for intelligence and got two minds/blips and we only saw Ziggy. I thought he'd have someone else with him or a pet, maybe. That might be revealed later. But I'm so confused, did Mace misspeak and only meant one? Or did they unknowingly leave someone to die in the factory explosion?

[transhuman-priestess]

Your robot gf asks you to help her out with “system maintenance.”

[ot9snumber1]

POLY!MISAMO POLY!MISAMO

im here!

yk me and bondage we just go together..

sub!momo getting tied to the bed bc she lost a bet of who could go the longest without touching themselves, sana and mina playing with her until she gets whiny and crying mess because of overstimulation..

I LOVE YOU!! always the first to save me <3

YES OMG :( misana intentionally made the bet with a drunk momo because they knew she would never ever last. even if sober momo swore she would never lose a bet (jihyo's competitiveness totally rubbing off on her), there were some things she just couldn't resist.

just as they thought things couldn't get any better (or worse, for momo), mina was out celebrating a friend's birthday and sana was out for another graff photoshoot.

in short, momo didn't even last a day.

sana was the first to tease her, sending her a selfie from the dressing room. she was only wearing the lingerie set mina bought her a while back with a very expensive necklace accentuating her cleavage. too bad you're not here, love. would do anything for you to eat me out rn :(

momo takes deep breaths and takes a cold shower. she just responds with a thumbs up emoji, making sana laugh. momo isn't a fool. she knows when she's being tricked. even if mina tried to get her to break the bet, too.

i don't think i ever sent this to you. thought you'd like it.

momo thinks she could implode at any given moment now. she stares at her phone, frozen as she stood still in the doorway to their shared room. mina was Evil. capital E.

the video mina sent seemed to be hastily recorded. the phone must've fallen over before mina hit record, because all she could see was the ceiling of the bathroom. not that she needed to see anything, anyway. she recognized the scene almost instantly.

"ah—fuck, fuck me right there!" mina moaned. momo felt herself blush, unable to click off the video. it was when momo had bought her current favorite strap and couldn't even wait until they got home to test it out.

momo takes another cold shower, but that didn't help either. her girlfriends were just far too stubborn to let her win just this once.

we'll be home soon <3 sana texted. momo felt happy at that, dreaming of being able to cook for them again, cuddle, kiss, et cetera.

until sana followed her message with a video of mina sucking on her tits.

that was momo's last straw.

"f–fu—ah!" momo whined as she inserted another finger into herself, barely being able to hold her phone. she tried to focus on rewatching the video over and over—but just the sound of sana's sultry voice commanding mina to do what she wanted was sending her into overdrive.

they wouldn't find out, right? if momo was just careful enough...

sana laughs maniacally when she steps into the bedroom. she didn't even need to walk closer to see the big damp spot on it. "mina!" sana calls out as she ran down the stairs to reunite with her girls. "i think our little momoring owes us something."

momo's heart drops. she'd never been more scared and turned on at the same time.

momo tries closing her legs again, the feeling of sana's fingers in her and vibrator on her clit just felt like too much. sana slaps her thighs lightly, forcing her to hold them open. "take it, slut. isn't this what you wanted? to be used?"

sana returns to overstimulating momo while mina pinched and sucked at her nipples. momo let out a high-pitched whine, tears streaming down her cheeks. "mff—fuck! please, i'll be a good girl i swear—"

"should've thought about that earlier, no?" mina teased. "you know how she is." sana hums, smiling in satisfaction when momo cums for the umpteenth time. "can't think about anything but fucking and being fucked."

both sana and mina laugh at that. "yeah. our baby is just a filthy–minded freak, hm?" mina coos as her fingers trail down to replace the vibrator sana held against her clit. "shit!" momo cried out, throwing her head back and wanting nothing more than to hold their wrists in place. (too bad her wrists were the ones being held in place. there was nothing prettier than sana's necktie restraining momo from doing anything but cry, in mina and sana's opinion.)

"answer." mina says lowly, slapping her cunt. momo whines again, her voice raspy from how much she's screamed so far. "y–yes! j–jus' a freak for you two."

sana chuckles again, curling her fingers in momo. "atta girl."

[gogogodzilla]

𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟹𝟸, 𝙿𝙼 𝟶𝟻:𝟸𝟷:𝟻𝟹

Summary: You receive some unexpected news and have a drink masterlist ✩ ao3 ✩ wattpad ✩ previous chapter ✩ next chapter ✩

Gavin leans against the edge of your desk, taking in the wall of documents before him. Over the past few days, you’ve converted your office into an obsessive detective’s wet dream. Cork boards filled with pictures and tidbits of information from the case litter one side of your office, and stacks of files crowd the other. 

You lean back in your chair, surveying the results of your hard work. 

“What are we missing?” you ponder before picking up a stray case file on your desk. 

“We’re still waiting to hear back from the forensics unit about the DNA under that android’s nails,” Gavin answers without turning to face you. 

You set the file down. “You think we can get a lead from that?” 

“I think,” he says as he stands, “that it’s our only lead right now.” 

You lean back in your chair and rub your temples. “I just wish we could figure out a motive. Why in the hell would someone want to build their android, if that’s even what they’re doing?”

“It’s easy to get parts for one thing,” Gavin mentions as he rounds your desk and perches against the edge next to you. You try to ignore the way his leg brushing against yours makes your heart skip a beat. “You think someone at Cyberlife is involved?” 

You shrug, “That was my working theory initially, and I don’t see why that should change. An employee would know where to get the parts in the warehouse that was robbed a few months ago, and an employee would be someone with ‘advanced engineering skills,’ as Hayden put it.” 

Gavin meets your gaze, and his eyes soften for a second. “We’ll figure it out. You have good instincts and the best partner the DPD could offer.” 

A small smile forms as you look up at him, and, for a moment, you have hope. 

The brief moment of comfort is quickly severed by a knock on your office door. There’s barely enough time for Gavin to jump to his feet before the door opens.  

Jason Graff strolls into your office like he’s done countless times before. “Oh good, you’re still here,” he breathes, grinning as his gaze jumps between you and Gavin. 

You stand from your chair. “Officer Reed and I were just discussing the case he’s been working on,” you explain. 

“I can see that,” Jason grins as he motions to the various boards and files scattered around your office. 

“Is there something you need?” 

“I was hoping to speak to you in private, Doctor,” Jason requests, his gaze flicking to Gavin. 

You straighten, and uneasiness fills you. “Of course, sir.” 

Gavin gives you a small nod, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

He heads for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. He shuts the door behind him, and you’re left alone with Jason. He takes a seat opposite of you, and motions for you to sit. 

“Your reports from the field have been incredibly insightful,” he praises as he leans back in his chair and adjusts his glasses. 

“Thank you, sir. I’m—”

“That being said,” he cuts you off with a pointed look, “we think it’s time to move into the fine-tuning stage of this little project we have you on. That means working with the engineers here to make sure the androids are fit for police work.” 

“But we haven’t solved the case yet. The person destroying Cyberlife property is still out there,” you point out.

“Yes, and it’s time to let the professionals handle this case, not you and some wannabe detective,” Jason stresses, huffing out a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, Officer Reed is a great cop, but that’s all he is.” 

A tightness formed in your throat as you looked at Jason. “We can’t just stop now,” you insist, your gaze hardening.  

“It’s not your job, sweetheart,” he groans, rising from his chair. You begin to tremble, and your heart pounds in your chest. Is this really happening? “Get this crap out of here by next week,” he says over his shoulder before exiting. 

You stare at the chair where Jason once sat. You clench your fists, the dull edge of your nails digging into the soft flesh of your palm. This can’t be happening. You’ve been working on this case for two goddamn months, and you’re not giving up when you’re this goddamn close. 

Your mind moves faster than your feet as you make your way to Gavin’s police cruiser. He leans against it, cigarette clasped between his fingers as he scrolls on his phone. He lifts his head at the sound of your hurried steps. Your features pinch in annoyance and he furrows his brow. You reach him, leaving only inches between you.

“What happened?” he questions, tossing his cigarette into the snow. He scans your features as you attempt to unscramble your thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair before looking up at him. “Have a drink with me,” you murmur, and it’s more of a command than a question. 

His mouth quirks up, “Don’t think Charlie is too eager to see you again.” 

“What I have is better than anything you’ll get at Charlie’s,” you say softly, grinning. “No offense.” 

Gavin barks out a laugh. “Shit, sweetheart. With what Cyberlife is paying you, I would hope you can afford the good stuff.” 

The drive back to your apartment is filled with a palpable energy that hums between the two of you. You nervously drum your fingers against your thigh, a maddening habit you picked up from Gavin. 

“So, I take it the talk didn’t go very well,” Gavin says as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and kills the engine. 

You throw open the passenger side door. “Less talking more walking,” you call before shutting the car door behind you. 

Once inside, the familiar comfort of your apartment does little to quell your nerves. You make a beeline for your cupboard, reaching for the good liquor you keep stashed away and two glasses to go with it. 

Gavin hangs his jacket on the back of one of the bar stools before taking a seat on your couch.

The only sound that fills your apartment is the clinking of the glasses against the counter and the trickle of bourbon as you pour yourself and Gavin a drink. You sink into the plush cushions of your couch and hand Gavin his drink. He nods his head, thanking you. 

You grab the remote off the coffee table in front of you and turn on the TV. The noise is a nice distraction from your muddled thoughts, and you take a sip of your drink. 

Gavin relaxes against the cushions, and his gaze fixes on you. “Alright, spill, sweetheart. You’ve been acting on edge ever since we left Cyberlife.”

You swirl the contents of your glass, watching the amber liquid slosh. “Graff is pulling me off of your case. He said it’s time for our project to move onto the next stage, which includes me making sure the androids are fit for the field.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Gavin snaps. “We’re this close to solving the case, and he wants to pull you off of it.”

He rises to his feet, grabs his drink, and begins pacing in front of your coffee table.

“I don’t like it either, but I don’t have a choice. Groff made it clear that this project takes priority over—” 

“Screw the project, and screw Graff!” Gavin cuts in, his voice raising with each word. “This is exactly why I hate working with you corporate types. All you care about is the end goal.” 

You stand, clenching your fists, “What do you expect me to do? Huh? I don’t have a choice.” 

“You always have a choice. You could fight for this. You could fight for this case,” he insists. 

You glare at him, “I haven’t even been there for six months, I’m not exactly in a position to make demands.” 

“What, then? You wipe your hands of this while more and more androids show up desecrated on the side of the street?” he questions, taking another step toward you. 

“That’s not fair.” 

“No,” he counters, “what’s not fair is having my fucking partner taken from me when we’re so close to solving the case we’ve been working on for months.”

Another step closer. You’re practically nose to nose, screaming at each other to see reason. 

“You think I want this? You think I want to be stuck behind a fucking desk while you’re out there finishing what we started?” you question incredulously. 

Tension lingers between you, both of you standing too close and too stubborn to back down. Gavin’s eyes flare in the dim light of your living room— anger, frustration, and something deeper you can’t discern. 

For a moment, neither of you speak, too caught up in your own arguments to even look at each other. Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath. 

Before either of you can think, Gavin grabs your arms and pulls you closer. Before you can even ask him what the hell he’s doing, his lips are crashing into yours. The taste of bourbon lingers on his lips— sweet, smoky, and utterly intoxicating. 

You press into him, your fingers tangling into his uniform shirt as you get lost in the sensation of him. He deepens the kiss, sliding his hands down to grasp your waist and tug you closer. His breath is hot against your skin, bourbon and something you can’t quite distinguish mixing into something that’s entirely him. Everything about him is tantalizing— his fingertips digging into your waist, the trace of cigarette smoke on his clothes, and the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters. 

Just as quickly as it began, it’s over. He pulls away, and you’re gasping for breath as your mind reels. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. Your eyes flutter open slowly.

His hands fall from your waist. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that manages to come out is a shuddering breath. He stares at you, eyes flicking back and forth almost as if searching for something. His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. Without another word, he steps away, grabs his jacket, and walks out the door. 

He leaves you standing breathless and alone. Your mind spins as the sound of your front door closing echoes throughout your apartment. Your fingers brush against your lips, the ghost of him still lingering. 

You throw back the rest of your drink, relishing the burn in the back of your throat. Anything to keep your mind off what the hell just happened. 

[elfrootenthusiast]

10 People I’d Like To know Better

Tagged by @smol-tired-binch-blog hiiiii hiiiii felix mention hiii

Last song: baby bird by autoheart new autoheart singleeee every1 pls listen lady gaga judas stuck in my head tho u know how it is

Last Book: i just finished reading even though i knew the end by c l polk bc it was our monthly book recommendation at work BUT the last book i read by choice was the firm by john grisham so i could watch the movie w my friend who is a DIE HARD tom cruise fan

Favorite color: olive green 😌 and also pink and orangee

Last movie: i was on a hot streak of watching at least three new releases a week in theaters & then i DIED so genuinely the last movie i watched was christmas wedding planner. aka the Worst xmas romcom on earth & my favorite movie ever guest starring JOEY FATONE FROM NSYNC 😍🥰

Spicy/sweet/savory: i 💖 the god awful sweet/spicy combo that has been emerging everywhere

Last Show: love is blind with vanessa LACHEYY 💥 but im abt to start frieren beyond journeys end bc i love CRYINGGGGGGGGGG

Current obsession(s): dragon age has been a constant sleeper obsession in my life since the 2010s & ive got THINGS TO SAY. about veilguard. i just wanna talk i just have some questions

other than thaaat cassie my baby u will Never die my most cherished oc i will put u anywhere & everywhere its always abt her no matter what

tagging my strongest reblog warriors (i can count i just hold love in my heart). @clover-seedz @stuckinpermafrost @everybodeyneedsathneed @kingliestcustomer @graff-aganda @actuallynotsatan @squigglebug @marstopher @kasugas @niceofthenine @modernmanblues

[james-spooky]

hi there! you like podcasts and I’m in theater and need a speech. if you see this and it’s not too much trouble, could you reply with a good monologue from a podcast?

<3

~Nat

Thank you so much for asking me! Most of these podcasts live rent free in my head haha. I don’t know if you’re looking for a specific genre but i’ve opted for emotional/dramatic - there’s a variety of lengths and many of these can be cut down :)

I came up with quite a lot of options so bear with: (below cut)

Shipworm:

Wallace wakes up one day to find there’s a voice in his ear telling him what to do, and that he’s going to save humanity. He’s tested and broken down, questioning his identity and purpose; at this point he opens up about his past to a character who he needs on his mission, but will inevitably not be able to save.

Fathom:

Dr. Eva Graff has been working to open a secret vault at the bottom of the ocean on a research station underwater. She’s grieving her daughter and disconnected from her wife who’s still on land, so she pours her whole life into her job. At this point, she’s conversing with the systems Virtual Intelligence MACK, after an explosion on one of the decks flooded a major section of the station. She’s trying to find other survivors, get out unscathed and open the vault.

The Magnus Archives:

A statement of someone who underwent a social experiment on the effects of isolation in space; here is a short excerpt ruminating about the vastness of space, isolation and the insignificance of humans.

The Silt Verses:

Carpenter and Faulkner are travelling along the peninsula, searching for other believers of their forgotten river-god faith. Here, Carpenter speaks of her grandmother, Nana Glass, and her devotion to their beliefs. (The Silt Verses is the best for dramatic monologuing imo) !

I had a fun time compiling these ! Hope this helped and good luck with your monologue whatever you choose! 🫶