Xxxtentacion Mask Novels & Stories

She danced and mingled with ease, while I found solace at the bar, sipping on a drink and watching the partygoers from afar. As the night progressed, I found myself feeling more at ease with the party's anonymity. The masks allowed me to forget about my past and embrace the mystery and intrigue of the night. But that all changed when I saw him - a tall, dark stranger, dressed in a black suit and mask. He stared at me, making me feel uncomfortable. I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be interested in my drink, but he approached me nonetheless. "Hey there, beautiful. May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and low.

The thought of it made her scoff, she must have looked pathetic all these years. Without saying anything, she collected the glass from Melisa and chugged down the whole content of the glass. After that she forced herself to stand up, blood still dripping from her body. “This is the end of you, my dear friend” “I hope…” the words hung in Martina’s throat as she felt a sharp pain in her chest. “Did I tell you?” Hardin couldn’t contain his excitement as he began to talk, “those were not only abortion pills, I don’t want you coming back to haunt us”

One month ago… “Good Morning people of New York, this is Radio Splash FM and I’m your girl Miranda Lain. Now I’m sure I told everyone last week, that Splash FM will be having an interview with the sensational, one and only, L.K, aka the Masked Queen of New York City. We’re going to be having an impersonal, phone interview to give everyone a chance to know what’s behind the sudden news of a breakup between L.K and her agency. Please, everyone, hold on while we make this call.” *~*~*~* “Over here, she ran over here!” I increase my pace and barge through the emergency doors, running down the stairs with heavy breaths. I stop on the last stair and wait to hear if they’re still chasing after me,

“That does little to reassure me.” Brandon leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Everyone here wears masks. Staff included. Patrons remain anonymous, and identities are protected. Think of it as… academic masquerade.” Hart reached into a sleek black box resting beside him and produced a finely crafted mask. It was matte black with subtle silver detailing—elegant. “For you,” he said, offering it with a small smile. Noah hesitated before taking it. The material was smooth beneath his fingertips, cool and unfamiliar. It concealed the upper half of his face—just enough to render him unrecognizable.

As the ding resounds again, I’m just in time to see his broad back disappear to the right. “I’m so sorry. I’m really looking forward to my new bag.” Elisabetta remains standing another second awkwardly, before she scurries after her brother. Yeah. Awesome, indeed. *** The moment I arrive home, I have a very bad feeling. Nina and I swore to keep today’s event secret, but it weighs heavy in my stomach. It is paired with my sense of guilt at the upcoming party. Which gets even intensified by the fact that I’m carrying around a lilac mask with golden embellishments and feathers in a bag freshly bought from an exclusive boutique. After setting my bags down in my room, I go out to join my family t

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until now. Everywhere he looked, the ultra-elite were shedding their daytime restraint. In a shadowed corner near the main salon bar, a statuesque redhead in a feathered gold mask had her back pressed against the wall while a man in a black-on-black suit—Ken recognized him as a prominent hedge fund manager—kissed her throat with open-mouthed hunger. His hand moved under her long dress, fingers working skillfully as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. No one around them batted an eye. This was the Hamptons after dark. At this hidden mask party, the rules dissolved with the champagne.

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

They called me I don't know if ill run, but I'm strong I can manage to beat them, but the problem is that they are 3 and I'm all alone. I'm ready to run when one of the gangsters throw an empty can of beer exactly to my head " I'm sorry I'm not looking for trouble" I apologized, I'm ready to walk when one of them pulled my collar and throw me on the ground "I told you I'm not here to mess with you guys!" I said calmly, I'm controlling myself now, I don't want to fight them back I was about to stand up when the man wearing a mask, I guess the leader of this shit suddenly punched me on my face, he messed with my face

"Isn't this all because of you? If you hadn't helped her back then, would Brianna have ever scored that well in math?" I dug my left hand into my thigh, hard, forcing myself not to tremble. The others smiled and echoed her, as if they'd all suddenly forgotten what they had done to me in high school. During lunch, it was like they were following a script, casually showing off how well their lives had turned out. Finneas took a call and loudly mentioned a deal worth millions of dollars. Melissa showed off a diamond ring that was clearly several carats large. Vexana Jones made sure everyone noticed the luxury watch on her wrist.

The sounds of cars driving by, and their horns interlaced with the cacophony of voices and footsteps created a background song to my self-declared movie. I lifted my head and gazed at the giant sign of the White-Angel company and a flood of warmth flowed in my stomach. —Today was day one of my revenge mission and I was very well prepared for it. I pushed back the Bayonetta glasses I had ordered over the weekend from A****n. They had been one of the basics for the office siren starter pack I had researched deeply on P*******t and which I had dressed accordingly. Over my pin-striped pencil skirt with the side front slit, I had worn a very tight-fitting white shirt which did not have any button